By Shannon Sharpe

On a hot, humid summer afternoon in 2016, I walked into interior architect and designer Suzanne Lovell’s Chicago studio. I’d love to say I remember every piece of art and object on display, but this was 10 years ago, and memory is fallible. What’s more important is what I do recall. This isn’t a reception area, I thought to myself as I stepped through the doors. It’s an art gallery. The space captured Suzanne’s guiding ethos of gesamtkunstwerk, in which multiple disciplines come together to create a total work of art. This concept sits at the center of Suzanne’s practice, so much so that the firm maintains an art advisory.

On a bone-chilling January day this year—a decade after I first visited the studio—I returned. Over the years, the artwork has changed over again and again. Yet, the space revealed itself in exactly the same way: a place where fine art, architecture and design converge. That particular winter afternoon, I encountered—among many other works—a towering porcelain vessel by Felicity Aylieff standing beside a Zizipho Poswa glazed-earthenware sculpture. Photographer Marina Abramović’s The Hero served as a backdrop.

By the time you read this, much of the work will have been rotated out for other pieces in the firm’s collection. There are, however, four seemingly permanent pieces at the center of the space—41-by-32-inch vitrines, each containing individual exercises in design. From these acrylic-encased palettes—composed of commissioned architectural samples by artisans, handwoven couture textiles and a curated view from the collector’s art collection—an imaginary inhabitant comes to life. One design might suggest an urban dweller drawn to the bold and unexpected; another might hint at a world traveler who has spent their life collecting fine art and objects from around the globe.

This intricate display emerged from Suzanne’s broader pursuit of a Doctor of Philosophy in Architecture and Design Research at Virginia Tech (where she also received her Bachelor of Architecture). She’s entitled her thesis It’s Not About the Chair—a title that captures her unwavering belief that furnishings are not the driving factor in great design. Rather, logic and architectural lines are what set the stage. “Architecture provides a system for all my thoughts to flow through,” she muses.

Suzanne’s focus is proportion, movement and anticipation—how a person walks through a residence and senses. Material considerations are essential—as she says, “the creation of the architectural language always comes first.” There is no place the team is unwilling to go to find the perfect surface; recently, they traveled with a client to walk through an Italian stone yard. Art placement enters early—during the drawing phase, in fact. As the layout develops, specific locations are reserved for works that do not yet exist.
“We’re creating moments within the architecture,” Suzanne says. “The art does not fill a wall; the wall anticipates the art.”

Suzanne travels the globe to visit art fairs, artist studios and auctions. She reflects fondly about discoveries at some of her favorites: the Venice Biennale, the European Fine Art Fair in Maastricht, Art Basel in Switzerland, woodworker Joseph Walsh’s studio in the Irish countryside and an especially memorable trip to Marfa, Texas.

It is only after the lines have been drawn, the spaces planned, the art chosen and the surfaces selected that Suzanne considers the furnishings. Even this experience is atypical. Suzanne doesn’t ask her clients, “Do you like this fabric or this? This chair or that? A floral wallpaper or clean white walls?” Instead, she guides them through the home’s design at each meeting, staring at the front door and moving from room to room, discussing the vision of each space. It is, she says, a narrative rather than a collection of parts.

Before I left Suzanne’s studio, she pulled out what she calls the “big book.” It’s a heavy, ever-growing five-inch-thick tome of her ideas, designs and inspirations (she’s been known to wake up in the middle of the night with a thought that is an essential addition). A collection of sketches, photographs and one-off musings scribbled on post-it notes, the binder is at the same time meticulously organized. It’s an object that encapsulates Suzanne’s paradoxical approach to design—wildly creative, but all set within a carefully considered system. ✤