Behind The Cabinet Door
What designing the heart of my home is teaching me about the truths I'm seeking in this chapter of life.
I’ve been thinking a lot about kitchens lately.
I spend downtime in the evenings decompressing by combing through Pinterest to save interior design ideas that speak to me in the moment. I’ve noticed that I keep saving one design choice over and over again to my latest board: a kitchen without upper cabinets.
The more of these images I save, the more I wonder how practical it is to eliminate half of your storage…but I now realize the hidden message in my pinning pattern. If a kitchen is the heart of the home, then I want it to show that through a vibrant, eclectic and unique display of our family story and creative spirit. I don’t want to hide our mess behind an of-the-moment renovation that I see copy and pasted as the current trend to follow in my Instagram feed.
I suppose this is a sign that I’m entering the phase of life where I am drawn to what is real rather than what is popular. Give me authentic, bold and eclectic instead of unoriginal, safe, and presentational. Not just in my home design…but in my professional projects, my relationships, and my daily conversations. And for some reason, not having upper cabinets — just shelving above countertops instead — feels like an open invitation for me to work through those feelings by styling some quirk, imagination, and a dash of daring into the space I hope to use most in our future family home.
I am not an interior designer by formal education. But I do tell stories for a living. And the more I chase my curiosity to learn about design, the more I realize the interiors I’m drawn to never have one distinct style, but they always tell a story.
So many of our childhood memories are made in kitchens. Whether at our own homes, or the homes of close family members and friends, these experiences stay with us and have great influence on us for the rest of our lives, whether we’re conscious of it or not.
In my family, food is a love language and gathering is an art. My childhood was defined by watching my grandmother, mother, and aunts spend countless hours in each other’s kitchens preparing and sharing our stories and recipes as an act of generosity and devotion that I always appreciated, but I admire even more now that I am a mother.
What are the stories you are choosing to tell yourself and others through the spaces you create, the words you speak, and the company you keep? A thought I’m challenging myself to ponder as we begin a new week…
*Footnotes: image source 1 | image source 2