I often ask myself: why does this need to be designed in a certain way?
We, as designers, obsess over the smallest details- the exact curve of a corner, the placement of a doorknob, the thickness of a line. We fixate, refine, and revise until the space feels just right. It borders on a kind of design OCD, and we all recognise the familiar urge to make sure everything is exactly where and how it's supposed to be.
But for me, that process doesn’t begin with drawings, or site plans, or even concepts. It begins long before anything takes form in a quiet, almost sacred moment of intuition.
Before I know what the space looks like, I feel a kind of pull, a sense that something needs to be designed in a particular way. That feeling doesn’t come from logic, or aesthetic preference, or trend. It comes from a deep inner knowing that there is a need - a need to heal, to connect, to soften, to protect, to expand. The intuition of “why” is my starting point.
Every detail I design, no matter how small, needs to connect back to that invisible thread: the original intention. I find myself constantly asking, Does this decision align with the emotion I started with? If not, I begin again.
There are layers to this process, layers that are emotional, spiritual, technical, and conceptual all at once. But I’ll try to explain the journey in a way that reveals where my intuition lives:
Intention Before Form
I begin with the right intention to design not just for aesthetics, but for people. To understand what someone truly needs from a space and to offer them not just functionality, but a new way of feeling, living, and being within it.
Translating Emotion Into Space
Once the emotion is clear, I ask myself how it can exist spatially. What does care look like in plan view? What does freedom feel like in a section cut? How does protection translate into materiality?
Documenting the Invisible
I begin to articulate how this emotional framework can be applied to a real space through circulation, light, surfaces, and sound. At this stage, my intuition is still guiding me. It tells me which choices feel right, even if I don’t yet have the words.
Making Concrete Decisions
Once the structure of emotion is laid out, then comes the part we all know- the plans, the models, the materials, the renders. But even here, my decisions are not just functional. They are there to serve the original intention to do justice to the why.
I believe design is not just about problem-solving or aesthetics, it’s about meaning-making. The role of intuition in my process isn’t a vague, mystical thing. It’s a compass. It tells me when something’s right before I even know why. And as I connect that feeling to form, I begin to make spaces that do more than just function, they speak, they hold, they transform.
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