FIELD NOTES / STUDIO PERSPECTIVE

We might be looking at different things

20 October 2026

Kellie Patry | KPHD

We might be looking at different things

You show me a photograph you saved. We both say, “That’s it.” You leave thinking we agree. We may not.

Close view of rectangular tiles arranged in a staggered tonal pattern at Equator Coffees in Culver City.

Tile detail, Equator Coffees, Culver City. Photograph by Antonio Diaz, 2024. An illustration from KPHD’s work accompanying a hypothetical discussion of reference images.

You show me a photograph you saved. We both say, “That’s it.” You leave thinking we agree. We may not.

I might be looking at the proportions: a long table, the space around it, the height of the room. You might be looking at how close the people are sitting. We can agree on the image and walk out picturing different places. You would find that out when the room is built.

The photograph is precise. Your attachment to it may be much less so. I can describe a table down to its edge profile and still miss why you saved the picture.

Here is what that can do to you. My training gives me a vocabulary for what I see, and the vocabulary sounds like authority. If I explain the proportions fluently enough, you nod, and what you were trying to say disappears beneath my explanation. You may have chosen the image for something you cannot yet name. I want to leave room for that, and I want you to refuse to let me close it.

Say we are using the photograph to imagine a workplace. I could take the long table as the central idea and begin with its dimensions and material. You might be drawn to the sense that anyone could pull up a chair. The table matters to both readings, but they lead to different decisions. A carefully proportioned table could still feel too formal for what you had in mind.

Now look at the people in your photograph. Cover them with your thumb. A room that seemed sociable can suddenly look severe. Some of what you fell for may not be furniture at all, and no amount of timber will deliver it.

For that workplace, I might keep a generous shared surface and question the arrangement around it. Does every chair have to match? Is there a clear head of the table? Could someone join without making an entrance? Those choices deserve as much attention as the timber.

Don’t let either of us translate the whole image into a word like “welcoming” and leave its physical qualities behind. Maybe it is the depth of the table you want: enough space to spread something out together. Maybe the light makes the room feel available for an ordinary afternoon. Keep the detail and the feeling beside each other until we know what can change.

So bring the photograph and expect a disagreement. Question what I noticed. I will test whether what you want depends on what the picture shows.

The room we make might look quite different. I want you to walk into it and recognize what you were trying to show me before you had the words.

ANOTHER DIRECTION

Carry your interpretation of an image into the briefing conversation.

Sources & editorial note

Originally published: Design Matters on Substack, 20 October 2026. Revised on this site 9 November 2026.

The ideas are mine — lived, read, and noticed first. AI writing assistance helps me get them onto the page. — Kellie Patry