In 2014, The Atlantic published an article headlined “Living With Less,” outlining the perks of minimalism. Six years later, a story from Vox read “Minimalism is dead. Meet maximalism.” And just last year, the BBC ran “The rise of relaxed minimalism.” These are the ebbs and flows of home design, specifically in the past 15 years.
Minimalism rose in popularity following the 2008 recession, with Marie Kondo, the lifestyle’s de facto spokesperson, urging people to “declutter” and “discard everything that does not spark joy.”
“To me, a minimalist interior is very intentional, with well-executed pieces,” says Ryan Kopet, an interior designer at Miles and Kirk Design, LLC in Chattanooga. “Where you’re not going to have an abundance of things, everything you do and place has a purpose and a design thought and direction.”
Maximalism is on the opposite end of the spectrum. Described in Architectural Digest as “a design style rooted in a more-is-more philosophy,” contemporary maximalism emerged when COVID-19 forced everyone to spend more time inside and rethink spaces in their home, Kopet says.
The definitions for these two umbrella terms — minimalism and maximalism — are ever changing. “It’s less ‘Is it minimalist or maximalist?’ and more ‘How intentional or personal is it?'” Kopet says.
For Chattanooogans Daryl Thetford and Dana Shavin, Damon and Lisa Davis, Sydney Phillips and Nick Carruth, all their spaces are absolutely intentional and personal; it’s just a matter of how they express it through their decor (or lack thereof).
More Is Not Enough: Meet the Maximalists
Design Imitates Art
Chattanooga artist Daryl Thetford created a piece in 2011 titled “The Enduring Appeal of the Apocalypse.” The work, prominently displayed in his home office, is meant to evoke the ominous and nervous tension concerning the Mayan prediction for the end of the world in 2012.
In the piece, a young man in a pink suit with outstretched arms is surrounded by news clippings, signs and crowds of people, all blending together on a yellow backdrop. If it sounds like a lot of moving parts, it is.
All of Thetford’s art has an aesthetically chaotic appeal, so it’s of no coincidence that his maximalist home echoes his maximalist art.
“I like things around me that remind me of something: a place, an event, friends,” says Thetford, who shares his Elder Mountain home with his wife of 22 years, Dana. “Not just buying to decorate, but getting things that mean something to us and putting that around us.”
Walking around the artists’ home feels like walking through a gallery — that is, a cocker spaniel-friendly gallery (the couple has two).
The Thetfords occasionally go to antique stores and art galleries, but most of their purchasing is done spur-of-the-moment and oftentimes while on vacation. “The one time we tried to buy something ahead of time, it was for a painting above the fireplace. We ended up buying five different paintings, none of which could go over a fireplace,” Thetford says.
Every artifact has a story. Gesturing to a stack of cards on his bookshelf, Thetford says, “These were all at a flea market in Barcelona, and I bought a whole stack of those commemorative WWI cards.”
The couple moved into the house three years ago, so it’s undergone a home makeover recently. No couch — and there are plenty of them — is the same color. The lipstick-red sofa faces a yellow one, and while those colors aren’t complementary, the eclectic nature of the home allows it to work.
In a 2020 Vox story, correspondent Rebecca Jennings wrote, “To look at a maximalist home is to get a sense of what the inside of a person’s brain might look like — the places they’ve visited, their heritage, the random objects they’ve amassed over a lifetime.” It would be difficult to find a better way to describe the Thetfords’ home. Religious iconography from places like the Vatican City and Mexico reside on Daryl’s bookshelf, and artwork Dana has produced appears sporadically throughout the house.
It’s a deeply personal space, and the intentionality behind the decor gives the home a spacious feel. It certainly helps that they share the same taste for design. “It’s pretty rare that we’ll disagree,” Thetford says.
The Cracker Barrel of Airbnbs
“People have called this the Cracker Barrel of Airbnbs!” says Damon Davis, who jointly runs a pair of Airbnbs across the street from one another with his wife, Lisa, at the base of Missionary Ridge in Chattanooga.
The Davises, who jumped into the Airbnb business five years ago, have outfitted both the houses in a way that prevents their guests of all ages from ever becoming bored. The Dodds house (both homes are named after their previous owners) is a bit more eccentric than the Watkins house. The ball pit in the closet could keep a 3-year-old busy as Grandma admires the four paintings of Elvis in the kitchen.
Just be sure none of the guests have coulrophobia, or a fear of clowns; Lisa has pictures of them displayed around the house. “A lot of times, we come back and the clowns are turned around backwards so they’re not staring at you,” Damon says.
Their philosophy behind designing the house is simply to make it fun, Lisa says. And it works. It’s not at all uncommon for the Davises to have guests return, and those guests aren’t shy about showing their appreciation, making origami crafts that now reside on a windowsill or adding to the U.S. state dinner plate collection that spreads across the walls in the kitchen.
Most of the decor is purchased from antique stores or at ReStore, a resale store run by Habitat for Humanity. The couple buys primarily with their guests in mind, though there is some personal flair to be found throughout the houses. The Davises’ first date was at the Riverbend Festival, and posters from this Chattanooga music festival dating back decades line the living room walls.
While their home feels like a museum, they operate it more like a fun house. If the closet ball pit and framed clown pictures aren’t enough for you, how about the pirate-themed room, the pink toilet and Kevin, the cat who greets you (and will join you, if you’ll allow it) at the door of the Watkins house? The bedside table in the pirate room doubles as a toilet, believe it or not.
“You can be a minimalist type of person and still appreciate it, because it’s entertaining,” Damon says. “If something is really, really tacky but we think that it’s still neat, we’ll buy it. We’re gonna bring tack back!”
Keeping It to a Minimum: Meet the Minimalists
Cats, Roommates and Guests? Yes. Clutter? Nope!
For Chattanooga resident Sydney Phillips, it’s simple. “I don’t like clutter,” she says.
“Usually, if I get new stuff, I will get rid of something,” Phillips says. “That’s kind of how I keep everything not cluttery.”
Phillips has a roommate, two cats and a bedroom downstairs that serves as an Airbnb, and she often hosts friends, but true to her word, there’s no sign of clutter.
“I always tell my friends that if it starts to smell like cat in here, tell me, because I won’t be able to smell it,” she says. For those wondering, it doesn’t smell like cat, though Oliver and Ricky make their friendly presence felt around the five-bedroom North Shore home.
Just because there isn’t any clutter doesn’t mean the house lacks decor. Phillips is fond of plants, which appear throughout the home, and modern art is contradicted by vintage posters. The bedroom is separated from the living room by French doors, contributing to a light and airy feel.
“I like mixing and matching styles,” Phillips says. It’s not going to be all modern; it’s not going to be all vintage; it’s not going to be all of anything. But I would say that if it’s neutral, simple and good fabric, then I’ll probably like it.”
The house has a unique layout, starting at the bottom floor, where a bedroom greets visitors upon entering through the front door. Phillips has transformed that space into an Airbnb rental that she hosts and her roommate manages, complete with a queen-sized bed, en suite bathroom and closet and a TV. A staircase leads to the aforementioned living room, and a trip up one more staircase leads to another couple of bedrooms (one for her roommate, one for guests), Phillips’ office and a back porch.
“It’s really the first place, as an adult, that feels like home,” says Phillips, 32.
While she uses some of the same buzz words as Marie Kondo, Phillips doesn’t claim to be a follower. Perhaps she is influenced more by her mother, whom she describes as “military-style clean.” Phillips wouldn’t go that far in describing her own cleaning habits, but she enjoys starting her early mornings with coffee, reading and cleaning.
She has worked in real estate for the past decade, so it comes as no surprise that she has more of a refined taste — refined, but adventurous. “I’ve seen every cookie-cutter layout that there is, and I’m not into that,” she says. “I’ve always loved the things that don’t make a ton of sense.”
No Need for Excess
Nick Carruth sees his life through seasons. “As life happens, seasons change, so our needs change,” he says. “My needs are changing. My seasons have changed.”
This season, Carruth is focusing on being active, surrounding himself with friends and, when he’s alone, being intentional with his personal time. It just so happens that decorating his space doesn’t figure into his needs, he says.
Therefore, Carruth’s walls are practically empty, save for a set of wicker baskets hung up in the living room, along with a large train-station timetable he’s holding for a friend that’s leaning against a wall.
“Personally, I just don’t like excess,” Carruth says. “I was living out of a duffel bag for a little bit of time, and I literally carried everything I owned. So if I have excess, I think, why am I holding onto this?”
He grew up with little to no decoration on the walls, so it’s just what he’s used to. “I’ve had things on the wall before in the past, but I’ve really noticed that I pay zero attention to it once it’s up there,” he says. “If I’m not using it, in a weird way, I feel guilty for having it.”
For Carruth, it’s also a calculated decision to live with less. He moved every year of his life for eight years after leaving home, so he’d like to have more of a sense of permanence before designing a space, he explains.
Carruth’s minimalist tendencies extend past just the lack of decor on the walls. He doesn’t have a TV either, which is a conscious decision. “It’s about being intentional about the things I choose to bring into my life,” he says. “I know I have a very addictive personality, so I keep myself on a short leash and don’t tempt myself with it. Otherwise, I’ll sit and binge-watch everything.”
He has a desire to host friends during this season of his life, and not having a TV makes that more difficult, he admits. “There are many times when I’m like, I want to fill my apartment up with stuff, or I don’t want it to look straight barren,” he says. But for now, those thoughts haven’t become actions. Carruth is more content to focus on his hobbies, like reading, crafting and building.
“The goal isn’t to reach as little things as possible. It’s just to figure out what my needs are,” he says.
There’s no telling what the next season in Carruth’s life has in store, but at this moment, it seems to be a minimalist season.