Interview: Blainey North, Architect / Interior Designer

Blainey North’s surname fits well – the ebullient Sydneysider and enviable multitasker on an upward trajectory like few others.

Architect, interior and industrial designer, entrepreneur, business leader and firm Australian success story, North is a standout, having launched her eponymous studio at 21 and pushed hard to achieve ever since.

It’s meant working across a swathe of differing projects, from luxury Australian residences to hotels (Crown Towers and Metropol but two), megayachts (the 54m Mischief), restaurants (Bistro Guillaume) to the world’s tallest residential tower (New York’s Central Park Tower) and more.

We caught up to talk Bladerunner, ‘Zoom walls’ and gender neutrality in design.

Kanebridge News: So much of your work is framed by a sense of architectural allure – which perhaps isn’t surprising as this was your chosen field of study, right?

Blainey North: Yes, I studied architecture and always approach our projects with an eye focusing on the built elements before I even look at the interior decoration. I believe interiors should be crafted with the walls, ceilings and floors becoming part of the consideration in shaping the idea.

KN: Does having such greatly assist in your design process and also your industrial design work with the various Blainey North Collection pieces?

BN: The rigour in designing a piece of furniture is the same as that of a building, it’s just a set of entirely different problems to solve. I love the freedom of designing the furniture and lighting pieces as they are like beautiful little jewels that I can design without any client in mind. It’s a lovely artistic outlet for me. The latest collection, titled Man and the Machine was inspired by my deep fascination with the city and a bodies movement through it. It was almost an indulgence to be able to think and craft pieces based on a particular area of my interest.

KN: It’s arguably strange that more interior designers don’t produce their own pieces – what do you see as the main barriers to overcome here?

BN: To produce and manufacture something is far more involved than anyone would imagine. The design part is actually only a small fraction of what is required as the process of trial and error in prototyping, finding the right people to build it with you, the cost and the labour are all enormous factors in being able to produce a product of excellent quality. That’s all before you have a sale. I’m incredibly proud of our furniture and lighting collection, however it is a very distinct business to the interiors.

Blainey North — A three-storey waterside residence in Sydney’s Rose Bay.

KN: How has COVID impacted or brought change to the way you approach (indeed, clients are wanting you to approach) certain aspects of residential interiors and spaces?

BN: People are again ‘living’ in their homes. By that I mean, they’re entertaining and spending time in and about the house. It’s similar to the1800’s in that respect, and so too there’s a desire for a similar traditional house layout — where the kitchen and the ‘working”’ parts of a house are separated from the entertaining. And so we’re designing homes again with butlers pantries and stand alone kitchens, formal dining rooms, formal lounge areas. It’s a return to the past… Oh, and we’re also being asked to design specific walls for people’s Zoom background, which is quite fun.

KN: Is there a preference when it comes to interiors — in regards to residential over, say, large scale ‘commercial’ efforts?

BN: I absolutely love working at a large scale – there’s a rush about building something that’s so much larger than you. We’re interestingly seeing a trend where homes and apartments are becoming far bigger, in both Australia and the rest of the world. Many of the homes and apartments we’re working on are over 2000sqm internal… Frankly, though, I love all forms of design and select the projects we take on based on whether I feel inspired by the brief and have a nice synergy with the client.

KN: I recall a want to make every project ‘magazine worthy’ — can you explain this philosophy?

BN: Many design firms work on a model of designing a large number of projects with simple design and then take on a few special projects that they put extra time and energy into ( they might make a loss on these). My dream was to create a business where the everyday design process in the studio was so rigorous that every project was a project you were proud to show. It’s been a huge decision as it’s meant that financially you take a long term vision. However, right now, 20 years in, it’s meant we have a large body of work that we can stand behind and have so many repeat clients that we’ve worked with for over 15 years now.

KN: You don’t present, through your work and also on a personal level, as someone who necessarily follows or adheres to trends. Fair to say there’s a Blainey North narrative and that’s your focus?

BN: I do spend a lot of time researching and looking at what is current and new, however I’ve always been a lone wolf. Emulating trends in design is just background noise in my opinion. I believe that original design comes from a different place and a unique process, something we like to work with the client on. I like to think of every project being a grand scale couture dress – it’s designed and made just for you.

KN: If you did have to target some likely design trends to appear this year and across 2022 – what can people expect?

BN: Detail and craft – it’s like the 1920’s all over again. The world is coming out of a period of minimalism and great pain and we’re ready to celebrate again and see beauty in all aspects of our life. I think that will mean that creativity will flourish in all areas of the arts with a specific focus on our interior spaces, the ones we have spent so much of the year inhabiting. It’s an incredibly exciting time to be in my field.

KN: In regards to your aesthetics there’s often a sense of moody and arguable masculinity to some of the work — fair summation?

BN: I’ve always found this idea of gender based aesthetic so curious, I mean, what does it mean to have a male or female aesthetic? If it’s floral and curved should that mean it’s feminine? I can say that I attempt to be original in detail and concept in each of our projects, and bring that rigour to the detail as well. I think it’s that attention to detail and alignment that is similar to the principles of Art Deco.

KN: Where do you find inspiration — is much of it delivered, simply, by the everyday and all that surrounds you in Sydney?

BN: I’m usually researching something in my spare time — for example, I’m currently interested in the direction of Kris Van Assche, the creative director of Berluti. In his latest collection he’s been fusing the art of a particular ceramicist and morphing it into fashion in a way I haven’t seen before. It’s started me thinking about how I might use this same technique and apply it to our architecture and interiors. I’m sure that our next project will have some of this inspiration coming from the art world.

KN: Are Australians — generally speaking — becoming braver and bolder with their approach to interior and architectural design?

BN: I think there is a new appreciation for design as a whole. Australia has now seen that good design might be more expensive in the short term, but it can deliver financially in the long term. That means that the developers are enthusiastic about building good design and understand that can relate to better sales and longevity in the product.

KN: Do you feel international markets are increasingly looking enviously at the contemporary design aesthetics we’ve developed here — especially in relation to open interiors, use of light, airiness and so on?

BN: Absolutely, we have such a unique set of criteria here with intense light and an amazing climate, we’ve developed amazing solutions to the indoor/ outdoor transition.

KN: Crown Spa Sydney is a recent project of yours – can you talk us through the concept here and what you were wanting to achieve. And your take on the Chris Wilkinson-designed building itself, from an architectural standpoint?

BN: We wanted the spa to feel like the moment you start drifting off to sleep, that space between sleeping and waking where your peripheral vision blurs. I think that’s one of the most beautiful and relaxing moments in a day, when the mind stops before it goes into a dream state. The design is full of curves and semi transparent walls of resin that you slip around. We worked with Hayden Cox, the famous Sydney surfboard shaper to create these unusual tables and benches in organic surfboard like shapes. It’s lovely as it feels incredibly relaxing but also somewhat unusual — a space which flows and you can’t quite put your finger on.

As for the buildng, it’s our greatest piece of architecture second only to the Sydney Opera House. It was an incredible feat to be able to build a tower which is twisting in three directions. There isn’t a straight wall on the whole façade which meant it was a challenging project for all the team involved. The documentation required complex spacial thinking and resolution. I’m so proud to have worked on the project — it’s rare that such an architectural vision is executed at this level of quality.

KN: What are your other artistic pursuits beyond design?

BN: One could argue I’ve made an art out of dining out. However I do spend time going to galleries and I’m a patron of the Sydney Film Festival. I really love film and find film sets of great inspiration for our work. In fact, one of our designs had wall panels inspired by the set of the movie Bladerunner.

KN: Name three timeless pieces every home needs and a simple sentence as to why?

BN:

Something beautiful to put your bag/ keys on when you walk in the door. I think that’s important as it’s the first moment when you arrive home and should set the tone for your home.
A lamp in the living room — because great entertaining is about people feeling comfortable and lamps throw a beautiful soft light to make people feel just that.
A great coffee table. It’s the centrepiece of the living room so make it something amazing to look at.

KN: What projects are exciting you most in regards to the year ahead — those which you can discuss?

BN: We are so excited to be finishing the apartments in Central Park Tower, the tallest residential tower in the world and which is on Central Park in Manhattan. It’s been an amazing challenge to build during Covid, however, we’ve created some amazing new systems to work with our clients and offices internationally. We’re presenting more and more in virtual reality, where I can walk the client and the team through the design in real time on the computer.

blaineynorth.com

In Singapore, it’s not unusual for total strangers to ask, “Have you eaten yet?” A greeting akin to “Good morning,” it invariably leads to follow-up questions. What did you eat? Where did you eat it? Was it good? Greeters reserve the right to judge your responses and offer advice, solicited or otherwise, on where you should eat next.

Locals will often joke that gastronomic opinions can make (and break) relationships and that eating is a national pastime. And why wouldn’t it be? In a nexus of colliding cultures—a place where Malays, Indians, Chinese and Europeans have brushed shoulders and shared meals for centuries—the mix of flavours coming out of kitchens in this country is enough to make you believe in world peace.

While Michelin stars spangle Singapore’s restaurant scene , to truly understand the city’s relationship with food, you have to venture to the hawker centres. A core aspect of daily life, hawker centres sprang up in numbers during the 1970s, built by authorities looking to sanitise and formalise the city’s street-food scene. Today, 121 government-run hawker centres feature food stalls that specialise in dishes from the country’s various ethnic groups. In one of the world’s most expensive cities, hawker dishes are shockingly cheap: A full meal can cost as little as $3.

Over the course of many visits to Singapore, I’ve fallen in love with these places—and with the scavenger hunts to find meals I’ll never forget: delicate bowls of laksa noodle soup, where brisk lashes of heat interrupt addictive swirls of umami; impossibly flaky roti prata dipped in curry; the beautiful simplicity of an immaculately roasted duck leg. In a futuristic and at times sterile city, hawker centres throw back to the past and offer a rare glimpse of something human in scale. To an outsider like me, sitting at a table amid the din of the lunch-hour rush can feel like glimpsing the city’s soul through all the concrete and glitz.

So I’ve been alarmed in recent years to hear about the supposed demise of hawker centres. Would-be hawkers have to bid for stalls from the government, and rents are climbing . An upwardly mobile generation doesn’t want to take over from their parents. On a recent trip to Singapore, I enlisted my brother, who lives there, and as we ate our way across the city, we searched for signs of life—and hopefully a peek into what the future holds.

At Amoy Street Food Centre, near the central business district, 32-year-old Kai Jin Thng has done the math. To turn a profit at his stall, Jin’s Noodle , he says, he has to churn out at least 150 $4 bowls of kolo mee , a Malaysian dish featuring savoury pork over a bed of springy noodles, in 120 minutes of lunch service. With his sister as sous-chef, he slings the bowls with frenetic focus.

Thng dropped out of school as a teenager to work in his father’s stall selling wonton mee , a staple noodle dish, and is quick to say no when I ask if he wants his daughter to take over the stall one day.

“The tradition is fading and I believe that in the next 10 or 15 years, it’s only going to get worse,” Thng said. “The new generation prefers to put on their tie and their white collar—nobody really wants to get their hands dirty.”

In 2020, the National Environment Agency , which oversees hawker centres, put the median age of hawkers at 60. When I did encounter younger people like Thng in the trade, I found they persevered out of stubbornness, a desire to innovate on a deep-seated tradition—or some combination of both.

Later that afternoon, looking for a momentary reprieve from Singapore’s crushing humidity, we ducked into Market Street Hawker Centre and bought juice made from fresh calamansi, a small citrus fruit.

Jamilah Beevi, 29, was working the shop with her father, who, at 64, has been a hawker since he was 12. “I originally stepped in out of filial duty,” she said. “But I find it to be really fulfilling work…I see it as a generational shop, so I don’t want to let that die.” When I asked her father when he’d retire, he confidently said he’d hang up his apron next year. “He’s been saying that for many years,” Beevi said, laughing.

More than one Singaporean told me that to truly appreciate what’s at stake in the hawker tradition’s threatened collapse, I’d need to leave the neighbourhoods where most tourists spend their time, and venture to the Heartland, the residential communities outside the central business district. There, hawker centres, often combined with markets, are strategically located near dense housing developments, where they cater to the 77% of Singaporeans who live in government-subsidised apartments.

We ate laksa from a stall at Ghim Moh Market and Food Centre, where families enjoyed their Sunday. At Redhill Food Centre, a similar chorus of chattering voices and clattering cutlery filled the space, as diners lined up for prawn noodles and chicken rice. Near our table, a couple hungrily unwrapped a package of durian, a coveted fruit banned from public transportation and some hotels for its strong aroma. It all seemed like business as usual.

Then we went to Blackgoat . Tucked in a corner of the Jalan Batu housing development, Blackgoat doesn’t look like an average hawker operation. An unusually large staff of six swirled around a stall where Fikri Amin Bin Rohaimi, 24, presided over a fiery grill and a seriously ambitious menu. A veteran of the three-Michelin-star Zén , Rohaimi started selling burgers from his apartment kitchen in 2019, before opening a hawker stall last year. We ordered everything on the menu and enjoyed a feast that would astound had it come out of a fully equipped restaurant kitchen; that it was all made in a 130-square-foot space seemed miraculous.

Mussels swam in a mushroom broth, spiked with Thai basil and chives. Huge, tender tiger prawns were grilled to perfection and smothered in toasted garlic and olive oil. Lamb was coated in a whisper of Sichuan peppercorns; Wagyu beef, in a homemade makrut-lime sauce. Then Ethel Yam, Blackgoat’s pastry chef prepared a date pudding with a mushroom semifreddo and a panna cotta drizzled in chamomile syrup. A group of elderly residents from the nearby towers watched, while sipping tiny glasses of Tiger beer.

Since opening his stall, Rohaimi told me, he’s seen his food referred to as “restaurant-level hawker food,” a categorisation he rejects, feeling it discounts what’s possible at a hawker centre. “If you eat hawker food, you know that it can often be much better than anything at a restaurant.”

He wants to open a restaurant eventually—or, leveraging his in-progress biomedical engineering degree, a food lab. But he sees the modern hawker centre not just as a steppingstone, but a place to experiment. “Because you only have to manage so many things, unlike at a restaurant, a hawker stall right now gives us a kind of limitlessness to try new things,” he said.

Using high-grade Australian beef and employing a whole staff, Rohaimi must charge more than typical hawker stalls, though his food, around $12 per 100 grams of steak, still costs far less than high-end restaurant fare. He’s found that people will pay for quality, he says, even if he first has to convince them to try the food.

At Yishun Park Hawker Centre (now temporarily closed for renovations), Nurl Asyraffie, 33, has encountered a similar dynamic since he started Kerabu by Arang , a stall specialising in “modern Malay food.” The day we came, he was selling ayam percik , a grilled chicken leg smothered in a bewitching turmeric-based marinade. As we ate, a hawker from another stall came over to inquire how much we’d paid. When we said around $10 a plate, she looked skeptical: “At least it’s a lot of food.”

Asyraffie, who opened the stall after a spell in private dining and at big-name restaurants in the region, says he’s used to dubious reactions. “I think the way you get people’s trust is you need to deliver,” he said. “Singapore is a melting pot; we’re used to trying new things, and we will pay for food we think is worth it.” He says a lot of the same older “uncles” who gawked at his prices, are now regulars. “New hawkers like me can fill a gap in the market, slightly higher than your chicken rice, but lower than a restaurant.”

But economics is only half the battle for a new generation of hawkers, says Seng Wun Song, a 64-year-old, semiretired economist who delves into the inner workings of Singapore’s food-and-beverage industry as a hobby. He thinks locals and tourists who come to hawker centers to look for “authentic” Singaporean food need to rethink what that amorphous catchall word really means. What people consider “heritage food,” he explains, is a mix of Malay, Chinese, Indian and European dishes that emerged from the country’s founding. “But Singapore is a trading hub where people come and go, and heritage moves and changes. Hawker food isn’t dying; it’s evolving so that it doesn’t die.”

Interview: Blainey North, Architect / Interior Designer

Post-COVID interiors and why trends are little more than “background noise.”

No trip to Singapore is complete without a meal (or 12) at its hawker centers, where stalls sell multicultural dishes from generations-old recipes. But rising costs and demographic change are threatening the beloved tradition.