Carte blanche creative freedom is every designer’s dream—but a precise brief can be just as thrilling.

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At least that’s the opinion of Julia Miller, founder and creative director of Expert studio Yond Interiors. When her client, who had purchased a second home in an idyllic lakeside setting, came to her referencing wabi sabi-influenced decor that nods to her Swedish heritage, she was only too happy to get stuck in.

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“The owner knew what she wanted to experience and explore within the space. Having the freedom to respond to something so specifically was fun because most people don’t usually go for themes with their homes,” explains Julia.

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**"They didn’t want typical floating shelves, so we came up with this idea of backlighting the windows with plate racks."

**—Julia Miller, Yond Interiors

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The most transformative move in purging the Minnesota property of its 1990s developer-grade origins was the application of carefully considered interior architecture details. Julia opted to clad almost all of the ceilings in reclaimed wood, and the walls were liberally plastered in soft, muted tones. “We wanted to evoke a certain feeling which is hard to get from painted drywall,” says the Expert. “I felt like it really needed another level of texture and irregularity.” Even the stair rail got a makeover, with custom planks (painted in Farrow & Ball’s Down Pipe) emulating Swedish millwork techniques, replacing the original, glossy-white spindles.

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Another impactful way of injecting vintage character into this newer build was to double down on materiality at every opportunity. The living room’s jagged stone flooring and coffee table (carved from an enormous oak tree) authentically capture the wabi-sabi appreciation for imperfection. And the European log-burner with the recessed storage makes every house guest pine for a cold snap so that they can spend an afternoon languorously curled up by the fire.

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But it’s the awkward kitchen (shaped by odd angles which make it neither a square nor a rectangle) that takes the cake as Julia’s proudest design feat. Egged on by the client—“she really pushed us out of the box to give her a kitchen no one else has”—the designer landed on rustic, reclaimed elm cabinetry that sits within hand-hammered copper frames. Creating a pair of windows on either side of the extractor for added natural light meant sacrificing wall storage, until Julia dreamed up an ingenious concept (literally, it came to her while sleeping). “They didn’t want typical floating shelves, so we came up with this idea of backlighting the windows with plate racks,” says Julia, who embellished the fronts with Swedish-inspired cutwork motifs. The result is practical but lends a collected feel to everyday ceramics and tableware.

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This remarkable project marked more firsts for the designer, like specifying linen fronts within oak frames for the wet bar’s cabinets. Concealing an ice-maker and a refrigerator, “it softens what would otherwise have felt quite harsh,” Julia says. She also pored over every detail of the custom cushions along the built-in seating so that they fit and look just so. “It was a feat of strength,” she laughs, but prioritizing comfort to take in the Lake Minnetonka horizon was paramount.

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As for the lighting, the mostly open-plan layout called for a sensitive approach. “Naturally, the client was very protective of the views, so it couldn’t take up much of the aesthetic space,” notes Julia. A monumental fixture was never in her sights—instead, she opted for Apparatus’ delicate Talisman pendants arranged asymmetrically over the central dining table. “It feels like raindrops falling from the ceiling.” A supporting cast of sleek flush mounts and pinhole recessed lights makes useful sources of task lighting.

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This house is a retreat for the owner's college-age children as well as extended family and friends. Heavily invested in creating space for everyone, a bunk room caters to younger ones, while each bedroom has its own identity. Julia designed the adjoining bathrooms with chiseled limestone sinks not just to be quirky, but to add more materiality to what can otherwise be clinical spaces. “An undermount sink is fine, but it doesn’t create an experience as an object,” she reasons.

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Balancing both form and function, the house now ticks so many boxes that the owner is planning to move there full-time. “I feel like that's the best compliment,” says Julia.

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