‘There is a breaking point’: The line between maximalism … and a mess
Clutter equals comfort and colour as a form of protest are two key principles of this ‘rule-breaking’ trend in home design.
By Elana Castle
Sydney designer Greg Natale’s latest project, a New York City townhouse, is “an immersive experience”.
A wardrobe may not be the most obvious place for a “moment of surprise and delight” in a renovation, but for Greg Natale, a Sydney-based interior designer and self-confessed maximalist, that’s precisely why it works. “It transformed a practical space,” Natale says of the sculptural wall carvings inside the dressing room of his latest project, a New York City townhouse.
Natale is a proponent of the “more is more” school of design, which, after the dominance of quiet luxury for several years, is making a resounding return. Beige, whether it be walls or sofas, is being replaced with colour as protest, and clutter has become synonymous with comfort, as the pendulum swings away from early 2000s minimalism and pared-back uniformity towards personality, complexity, warmth and identity.
Just looking at photos of Natale’s New York project is an immersive experience. Think riotous wallpapers, a Matisse-inspired de Gournay patchwork mural in the narrow hallway and colour-drenched walls throughout. And, of course, the aforementioned wardrobe.
“Richly veined stone panels set against clay-pink walls and ceiling, with a high-gloss pink island anchoring the room, might have been statement enough,” he explains. “The effect was already maximalist and almost theatrical, but carving the panels into sculptural shapes elevated the space further, echoing the Sputnik-style pendant light and surrealist vintage bedhead in the main bedroom, as well as the abstract marble mural in the main shower.”
The kitchen in the New York Townhouse, designed by Greg Natale.
A bedroom in the New York Townhouse.
When working with his clients, who own both an art school and art gallery (located on the same property as their home), Natale’s goal was to create a dialogue between the wardrobe with the spaces it adjoins, while infusing the home’s boundary-pushing design with a deeply personal touch.
“It felt fitting to make strong artistic statements throughout this home,” he says. “If we had held back instead of leaning in, the home would have lost its vibrancy and individuality.”
Shannon Shlom and Dominique Brammah, co-founders of Sydney-based design practice Duet, agree that maximalism offers a poignant manifestation of humans’ desire to look forward and backward at the same time.
“We are nostalgic by nature; our memories shape us,” says Shlom. “Yet at the same time, we are always projecting into the future, imagining what could be. That duality is especially important in people’s homes. They need to feel grounded and familiar, yet open to evolution.”
Natale’s NYC townhouse project.
The “almost theatrical” wardrobe.
This approach is also championed by global design stars such as Kelly Wearstler, Martin Brudnizki and Australian Catherine Martin, as well as Natale and the Australian “doyenne of maximalism”, Anna Spiro, who is known for her seemingly effortless overlay and manipulation of pattern, colour, texture and furniture.
Martin, an Oscar-winning costume and production designer and the wife of director Baz Luhrmann, says: “Both interior design and production design are fundamentally about expressing a narrative through space and atmosphere. That’s where the drama comes from: not from spectacle, but from storytelling, memory, and emotional resonance.”
Martin and Luhrmann’s joint projects are celebrated for their sumptuous and unapologetically bold aesthetic. Their recent work on the interiors of New York bar Monsieur underscores Martin’s point, centring its concept on a mysterious character invented by the pair, a fictitious veteran of Manhattan’s East Village who carries with him relics from his many lives. Using this base, Luhrmann and Martin layered the bar’s interior with mythological objects, symbols and lavish materials that aim to tell Monsieur’s story in a poetic and surrealist way.
The interiors of New York bar Monsieur.
Natale employs the same strategy, albeit for a predominantly residential clientele. “Maximalism, like any interior style, works best when a strong narrative anchors it,” he says. “Every inclusion, whether that is a reference, a texture or a layer needs to connect back to the story you’re trying to tell. That story often begins with the home and the client: What is the architectural language of the house? What resonates personally with the people who live there?”
In Australia, he is often asked to reimagine Federation-style homes. “In those projects, we draw on that heritage but pair it with contemporary and modern elements, creating a dialogue between past and present,” he says. “It’s about curating histories in a way that feels both cohesive and alive, so the room tells a story that is authentic to its setting and its owners.”
Catherine Martin (with husband Baz Luhrmann): Maximalism needs a story to anchor it. Credit: Getty Images
With an abundance of elements in the mix, it’s the designers with a genuine understanding and appreciation of different eras in design who produce interiors with depth, meaning and a sense of cohesion. Still, at what point does a maximalist approach start to feel overdone? When does abundance descend into chaos?
Martin says drama needs to come from “intention and specificity” and not mere excess. “I think viewers – whether on screen or in real life – instinctively recognise abundance that’s driven by care and intention. When detail and richness are the result of thoughtful storytelling, it resonates. It invites people into a world that feels lived-in, considered, and full of narrative possibility.”
Says Swedish-born Brudnizki: “I’m not interested in pastiche or decoration for decoration’s sake. Instead, we look for threads that connect a project to its surroundings. From there, we layer in references from different periods or cultures that support that narrative. When done right, the result feels rich and considered rather than random.”
A project that exemplifies Brudnizki’s philosophy is the Broadwick Soho hotel in London, which opened in late 2023. “Everything [in the hotel] ties back to the story of Soho; the artists, the music, the grit and glamour,” Brudnizki explains.
The same could be said of Spiro’s Melbourne home, where seemingly disparate textures, patterns, hues and forms could easily have read as a hodgepodge. Yet somehow they translate into a balanced whole. Take the pink sitting room: a sofa upholstered in Jasper Fabric’s floral “Nathalie Bouquet Summer”, a red-chequered ottoman, an armchair covered in a Michael Smith “Dutch Stripe” fabric, numerous artworks and an 18th-century Irish chandelier sit among vintage objects, accessories and collectibles to splendid effect.
Even Spiro’s kitchen design pulls off an unthinkable colour combo – lemon yellow and aubergine, offset by a mint rangehood, the latter adorned with multicoloured antique plates.
The bedroom of Anna Spiro’s Melbourne home. Credit: Martina Gemmola
A living room in Anna Spiro’s Melbourne home.Credit: Martina Gemmola
“I do feel that there is a breaking point, and too much clash can look garish, unsophisticated and sometimes cheap,” she says. “I always strive to create rooms that look interesting and sit outside the box, but luxury and quality sit at the core of what I do. A room scheme is like a puzzle – all the different shaped pieces must fit together to create a perfect whole. If one element is off, then that piece won’t fit in the puzzle and the whole room won’t sing.”
When it comes to advice for the would-be maximalist, most agree art and a brave approach to colour are at the top of the list. Shlom and Brammah, who champion thoughtful, unhurried creativity (“not fast fixes but warm collaborations that feel like friendship”), always include unique pieces in their projects.
“We love incorporating one-off items that can’t be found elsewhere and become uniquely tied to the space, creating interiors that are not only memorable but truly one of a kind,” says Brammah. “We also always intentionally lean into moments of imbalance – that edge where something feels a little too chaotic or a little too bold – and then pull it back just enough. That slight tension is where the magic happens.
“We don’t shy away from surprise or discomfort. Sometimes, imbalance is the beauty. That contrast between order and unpredictability creates depth and resonance. Our work reminds us to stay brave with our choices, to embrace the unexpected, and to keep our eyes open to beauty in all its forms.”
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