Looking beyond the familiar.
Why getting outside what we know can change the way we see what’s already there.
Place matters. So does looking beyond it.
Place matters. It shapes the materials we encounter, the buildings we inherit, the way light enters a room, how people live, and what feels familiar. But familiarity can also become automatic. And the interesting answer is rarely the automatic one.
Portland has shaped the practice.
Portland and Oregon have shaped how I have built AHID. It’s a mix of well-maintained historic homes, others waiting for the right steward, and contemporary new builds with expansive sight lines and beautiful materials. There’s something about how a place informs the buildings in its midst — the relationship between structure, the surrounding landscape, natural materials, and the craftspeople who have honed their skill within it.
From the beginning we have refused to be constrained by a design style, type of home, or aesthetic. We often tell clients that we aren't interested in imposing an AHID look on their home. We’ve designed historic homes like the Honey House and Upper Hygge Historic that balance modern conveniences while honoring the era of the space, and contemporary homes like Mt Tabor Modern, where the interiors were designed as much around the landscape outside as the lives happening within them.
I'm a born-and-raised Oregonian, with family roots here reaching back to the mid-1800s. But AHID's point of view isn't derived from geography alone. Each project calls for its own approach. Different architecture. Different people. Different answers. The makers and craftspeople we work alongside are part of that response. There is enormous satisfaction in watching someone who has spent years refining a craft take an idea and make it better through their own expertise.
“Different architecture. Different people. Different answers.”
The value of being unfamiliar.
I first discovered Spain in college. A Spanish major looking to expand my perspective of the world while mastering my language skills, I studied in Sevilla attending literature, history, and art history courses. It was the art history class that truly captivated me — I found myself sketching tile patterns and architectural details in the margins of my class notes, taking pictures of color combinations that surprised me, and delighting in understanding that what you might see on the surface level as beautiful ornamentation had a historical story all its own.
I was in a constant state of wonder at the centuries-old buildings and the way different cultures over centuries had shaped them. I was fascinated by buildings where evidence of different cultures and eras remained visible, one layer incorporated into the next rather than the past being entirely erased. It all felt, and still does, so much more interesting to me. There was also something different about the relationship between craft and place — one region known for ceramics, another for leatherwork, another for a particular kind of shoe. I grew up in Nike's birthplace but I don't know that anyone would consider Air Jordans a regional shoe of Oregon.
There was also the way in which culture shaped the life of at home. The largest meal of the day taking place in the middle of the afternoon. The social nature of a paseo that builds community outside of the house or the custom of sharing tapas and drinks. Despite a family of five, the kitchen in my family’s home was small and we crowded around a round table each afternoon to share our day over a home-cooked meal.
Just like anywhere else, the environment also dictated how we lived — in the arresting heat of Andalucía it was not uncommon to have a nearly dark house in the middle of the day as the heavy exterior shades had been closed to keep the space cool. And while I had grown up with an energy-efficiency-minded dad, I was no match for the number of cold showers I took before realizing I first needed to turn on the water heater. I was equally puzzled by the skirted table in the living room, where everyone sat with the fabric pulled over their laps, until I discovered the small radiant heater underneath keeping them warm through the winter.
The nature of living abroad didn’t just expand my perspective; it required that I pay attention and observe at a level most of us simply don’t do when we’re in the familiar.
While my studies were that of language, the experience of living in the unfamiliar, closely observing and embracing new and different ways of being unequivocally impacted the work of AHID today. We look closely at people, place, architecture, culture and constraints before making big moves, because the interesting answer is rarely the automatic one.
“The nature of living abroad didn’t just expand my perspective; it required that I pay attention.”
Looking again.
In five days I’m headed back to Spain, this time to attend Feria Hábitat Valencia. I believe exposure changes your frame of reference.
I’m going to look.
Yes, at furniture, lighting, and materials. But also to meet manufacturers and craftspeople, talk with designers, understand what Spanish and European makers are doing, notice what feels different, and what feels familiar, and pay attention to what makes me reconsider something.
There will no doubt be inspiration by way of conversation, materials, and colors. But an idea encountered in Valencia isn't automatically right for a house in Portland. A material appropriate to the Mediterranean isn't necessarily appropriate to Oregon. And something beautiful somewhere else shouldn't simply be transplanted here. The context matters.
We have some idea what we're looking for. We're more interested in what we don't yet know to look for. Because sometimes the best way to see the familiar differently is to spend some time somewhere that isn't.