Sarah Sherman Samuel sees home as a living autobiography, where art, architecture and memories meet. The celebrated designer shares the process behind the Showhouse — her own new-build in the Michigan woodlands.
“What set this project apart was the lack of typical restraints that all designers navigate. Usually, projects come with many predetermined factors, chief among them the existing architecture, including the general style, the façade, the foundation, the rooflines, the floor plan, the plumbing locations, window details and so on. Projects also typically have pretty rigidly defined client-based guardrails we need to work around: the client’s budget and personal preferences, existing furniture, the project timeline and material availability, to name just a few. With the Showhouse, however, I faced an almost entirely blank slate, limited only by budget and site conditions.
As every artist knows, starting with nothing can be intimidating. But it also presents unique opportunities. As I sketched floor plans, I was simultaneously finalising designs for my first full furniture collection, seven years in the making. The Showhouse became a chance to flip the typical design sequence: instead of fitting furniture into existing spaces, I could let my product designs lead the architectural composition. I scaled the great room around the dimensions of my Archer dining table, and the primary bedroom around my Hyvaa bed, a perfect demonstration of how product design can influence spatial planning. Even in the kitchen, I turned constraints into opportunities, building walls to match my Semihandmade cabinet dimensions. Instead of custom cabinetry, I had the walls built to match the available cabinet sizes, creating the illusion of fully custom cabinetry. Each decision informed the next, creating a seamless flow between product design and architecture.
My primary mission was to infuse a new build with the soul and character typically found when renovating an older home. I’ve always been inspired by traditional brick or stone homes that have been thoughtfully renovated and updated with contemporary additions. Like a European country house, but with some modern enhancements — or a modern glass orangery attached to a stately brick home, or a sleek steel-and-glass addition rising out of a centuries-old stone cottage. I just love how these homes play with the contrast of old and new as well as differing volume and scales. I wanted to bring that tension and materiality to the Showhouse, but in a way that would be honest to its woodsy Michigan location and reflect my personal style.
While the Showhouse was my vision from top to bottom, it exemplified how different disciplines must converge to create something truly special. From architectural planning to hands-on craftsmanship, each expertise informed and elevated the others. Collaboration was key, but with a twist: we kept everything very close to home, removing many of the steps between creator and end product. When it’s possible, I think this approach can lead to a more cohesive and personal result in any design project. The bones of the structure came to exist in collaboration with the architects at Mera Studio translating my vision to paper, and then to the many hands that built it.
We quickly developed a rapport, adding ideas and melding them into new details as they completed construction drawings. Each specialist — from the framers and masons to the plasterboard hangers and tilers — brought their own expertise to the project. For instance, the framers had to engineer a way to create the specified barrelled ceiling, a challenge that required creative problem-solving, having never encountered one before. And unsatisfied with locally available interior doors, I commissioned my dad to create custom wood doors. We made them together in his workshop, much like we do for many of my initial furniture prototypes. We figure it out with our own hands through trial and error, which makes me feel deeply connected to the unique character of the home.
Unlike typical projects with very detailed and rigid construction drawings, this personal project allowed us to be much looser. Design disciplines could overlap organically. I was on site almost daily, so I could make real-time decisions and tweaks that crossed traditional boundaries — architectural choices could respond to interior needs, product specs could influence structural details, and my artistic vision could shape technical decisions. For example, as we did the electrical walkthrough, I marked out the light fixture, outlets and switch locations in person instead of on paper. We designed and fabricated the doors as they were needed, and I drew bathroom elevations for tile layout just days before the tilers arrived. Since we didn’t have to consider a client’s timeline and we weren’t living in the space ourselves, we had the luxury to let the overlap of design, architecture and craftsmanship unfold naturally. While not feasible for every project, this organic, unhurried approach can lead to more thoughtful, site-specific design choices.
Midway through the project, my husband got his builder’s license and took over the construction side of things, affording us even more freedom with time and a more satisfying partnership. We could now lean on our shorthand communication and his (tolerant!) expectation that I will labour over details and come up with ideas that are usually just a bit more complicated than defaulting to the status quo. He still questions me sometimes, but in any design project, a strong, trusting relationship with your builder — whether you’re married to them or not — makes all the difference.
The Showhouse became more than an experimental build — it evolved into proof of what’s possible when there’s cross-pollination of different design disciplines. Working fluidly across architecture, interior design, product design and art taught me that the most compelling spaces emerge at these intersections. Without my industry’s typical constraints, I could explore how each discipline could elevate another: how a furniture piece can shape a room’s architecture, how material choices can inspire new product design, how artistic vision can influence structural or technical decisions. While this level of creative freedom isn’t always possible, the fundamental lesson endures: when we allow different aspects of design to inform the others naturally, we create spaces that feel both intentional and alive. These are principles I now bring into all my projects, regardless of their scale — always seeking that magical alchemy where disciplines merge and boundaries blur.”
Edited extract from Sarah Sherman Samuel: The Intersection of Art and Design by Sarah Sherman Samuel (Abrams Books).
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