Carl Dellatore

Publishing Projects for the Design Community

Writings

Why Every Interior Designer Needs a Book

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Books have long served as lasting documents for creative vision. In today’s competitive fields of interior design, producing a book is far more than compiling a portfolio—it’s a strategic tool that elevates your practice into a recognized, premium brand. 

Authority and Credibility

In an era when social media posts vanish into the algorithmic vapors, a published book offers permanence and prestige. It positions you as a trusted expert—a designer whose vision carries weight. On coffee tables and library shelves, it functions as the ultimate business card, continually marketing your work. This tangible proof of expertise often justifies premium pricing and attracts discerning, high‑value clients in the design and architectural world.

Clarifying Your Design Philosophy

The process of creating a book refines and codifies your creative DNA. Selecting your strongest projects, documenting your process, and articulating the principles behind your work help define what sets you apart. Whether you design minimalist interiors bathed in natural light, maximalist rooms rich with lush color, or traditional spaces rooted in historic precedent, your book becomes both a brand manifesto and a visual operations guide, ensuring consistency for clients, collaborators, and your team.

Expanding Business Opportunities

Published designers often find themselves invited to speak at industry conferences, contribute articles, or collaborate on product lines. Media coverage flows more readily to authors, delivering publicity worth thousands in ad spend. Like the salons of Paris, authorship places you in influential circles where reputation and opportunities grow in tandem.

Creating Scalable Assets

While client projects demand your direct time and presence, a book generates passive revenue through royalties and licensing while laying the groundwork for courses, workshops, and strategic partnerships. Much like planting a perennial garden, the benefits persist season after season—your work continues to inspire and influence even in your absence.

Blending Visual Impact with Insight

For maximum impact, combine stunning imagery with insightful commentary. Describe the way light cascades across a textured wall or how a hardwood floor pattern leads visitors on a pathway, offering readers both inspiration and a taste of your expertise. Share enough practical advice to establish authority while leaving intrigue that encourages future collaboration.

Choosing Your Publishing Path

Traditional publishing provides broader distribution and a stamp of established credibility, but self‑publishing should not be discounted–it offers control and higher profit margins. In either case, your book serves as a timeless ambassador—merging professional authority, cultural depth, and sensory allure.

Bottom Line

A thoughtfully produced design book is more than a record of your work. It’s the most elegant and enduring interior design marketing strategy you can create—one that builds lasting authority, attracts premium clients, and ensures your vision resonates well beyond the project’s completion.

Turning a Design Vision Into Print

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Creating a successful design book encompasses much more than simply arranging beautiful photographs on a page. As an art director and book designer who has spent years working with authors to bring their visions to life in print, I have developed a deep understanding of what it takes to translate their aesthetic into a cohesive visual package.

My first step with any designer is always research. I immerse myself not only in their portfolio but also in their thought process, design philosophy, professional history, and any other factors that drive their creative decisions. This is beyond professional courtesy! It’s an essential step in producing a book that genuinely represents who the designer is. Every font choice, every layout decision, every color palette I select should feel like a natural extension of my client’s work. 

The typography itself can tell a unique story. If the designer’s aesthetic leans traditional and elegant, a classic serif font can echo the sophistication of those kinds of interiors. For a designer with a more modern, edgy approach, a clean sans-serif font will better capture that contemporary spirit. But there’s also artistic value in creative rule-breaking. Pairing fonts to create hierarchy and visual interest–a thoughtful combination of serif and sans-serif, for example–can provide a rich and beautiful balance, much like a designer might pair a contemporary sofa with an antique coffee table.

The book’s cover presents the most significant challenge, and opportunity, for me: a delicate balance between an image that tells the entire story at a glance and typography that enhances and informs without competing with that image. The most successful covers I’ve designed are those where the image and type seem as if they were always meant to be together, neither overpowering the other. 

The collaborative process—poring over the photography with the author, discussing their design aesthetic and vision for the book—is really where the magic happens. They get to share the story behind each particular room—perhaps it was a challenging space with an even more challenging homeowner, or a project where every detail held special meaning. These conversations inform how I treat that space in the book: Does it deserve a full spread? Does it warrant detailed shots that highlight specific design solutions?

The reality is that creating an interior designer’s book involves balancing multiple voices—the author’s, the editor’s, the publisher’s, and the marketing team’s perspective. Each brings valid concerns about everything from commercial appeal to production costs. My role is to navigate these sometimes competing interests while protecting the integrity of the design vision.

In the end, a well-executed book project should serve not just as a portfolio, but as a refined extension of the designer’s brand and creative legacy.

Some Thoughts on Nuance

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The sepia mural enveloping this room, designed by Suzanne Rheinstein, was painted by Bob Christian, and the chairs and wooden chimera on the Louis XVI marble mantel are 18th century. The painted, gilded, stained, and waxed wood surfaces and various fabric textures bring a subtle interest to the space; the ceiling was lacquered off-white to reflect light. Photographed by Pieter Estersohn as it appears in “Interior Design Master Class” from Rizzoli, New York.

(WRITTEN FOR AND PUBLISHED BY THE DESIGNERS SOCIETY OF AMERICA)

You would be hard-pressed to open a newspaper or visit an online media outlet without discovering an article about the coming (or already here?) artificial intelligence (AI) revolution. Some praise AI’s problem-solving virtues in medical treatment and data analysis; others warn of impending calamity as malicious actors misuse AI to disrupt communication or further dilute any semblance of privacy we still have.

Consider this: In November 2023, there were no less than 40 stories on AI in The New York Times—covering everything from AI-controlled drones deployed in warzones to AI’s impact on career illustrators whose livelihoods are now threatened by art-generation programs. That latter example brings the point closer to home as we ponder how AI affects architecture and design professionals.

On architecture: An August 2023 piece published in The Guardian, written by Oliver Wainwright and titled “It’s Already Way Beyond What Humans Can Do: Will AI Wipe Out Architects?” takes an in-depth look and the conclusions—some fancied and others already realized—are no less than earth-shaking. AI is altering the future of architecture in unimaginable and revolutionary ways.

As a designer, you may already use generative AI to create 3D models, optimize space planning, or organize floor plans. Machine learning is taking hold, too, with programs that analyze preferences and predict what furniture your client might choose in a given room. And financial analysis programs are quickly-advancing, helping designers improve accuracy, transparency and workflow—all toward maximizing profit margins. Taken together, these advances are changing designer’s lives for the better.

But the questions persist: Will artificial intelligence take over the interior design industry? Or worse, render it obsolete?

The answers, at least in part, can be found in a piece the late designer Suzanne Rheinstein wrote in my book “Interior Design Master Class” on the subject of nuance. Contemplate her paragraph on the elements of a room:

“Assuming the architecture has been attended to, and the preliminary floor plans made, choosing the furniture must be done carefully. When considering pieces old and new, pay attention to finish and textures. The antique chairs I buy often have beautiful old and rubbed (not chipped!) paint with the wood showing through or faded gilt or mellow fruitwood frames, which look very attractive in the same room, with none of them standing out more than another. The tables may be small shapes from Asia, with 40 applied coats of lacquer creating the characteristic soft undulations in the surface. Or it can be a bespoke modern table with a smooth lacquer finish and simple bronze legs. I sometimes order extremely plain tables or desks with very finely woven raffia or glazed linen applied for texture.”

Rheinstein’s operative words are somewhat alliterative—choosing, carefully and considering—but they make an essential point: The devil is in the proverbial details. The nuanced decisions she made during her career elevated her rooms, for which she found herself on the AD 100 and Elle Decor’s A-List year after year. Her carefully honed aesthetic vision gives us insight into the future of design in the age of AI because while it may be true that a software program can choose color palettes or organize floorplans, it’s the nuanced details arrived at through years of experience working as a designer that artificial intelligence misses—at least for now.

I’ve been thinking not about how AI advancements could detrimentally impact the design industry but how the changes might make for better designers.

Hear me out.

While it may be an oversimplification, designers create interiors by identifying aspirations, exerting creativity, and marshaling resources to realize individually tailored spaces for their clients. That statement offers a roadmap.

Thinking about aspiration, the late Steve Jobs had it right: “Don’t give the people what they want; give them what they don’t know they want yet.” Have in-depth conversations with your clients that help you arrive at design solutions beyond your client’s expectations. Regarding creativity, challenge yourself to find furnishings and finishes that set you apart; instead of a showroom piece, scour the local antique shops for something unusual or engage an artisan to make a one-of-a-kind piece. And go the extra mile on installation day—stock the new refrigerator with your client’s favorite champagne or have fresh peonies on the dressing table. Together, these actions will underscore the value of hiring a design professional.

Designers who balance the advantageous aspects of machine learning with an ever-expanding use of their imaginations will continue to succeed far into the future. I’d bet on it.

More Is More Is More: Today’s Maximalist Interiors

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Pattern: Exotic Butterfly in Black, by Josef Frank. Available through Schumacher

Introduction

© Carl Dellatore, September 27th, 2022. Rizzoli New York

What defines maximalism? In the design world, opinions vary greatly. There is one faction that says a level of excess is pivotal. Some suggest that unexpected, often shocking color (or color combinations) should take center stage. Still others believe a mix of patterns to be de rigueur. The list goes on.

As most views about design are ultimately subjective, they are all correct. But no matter its form, maximalism has been with us as long as the decorative arts.

At the turn of the twentieth century, the Breakers, Richard Morris Hunt’s dichotomous seventy-room “cottage” designed for the Vanderbilt family and decorated by the team of Jules Allard and Sons and Ogden Codman Jr., defined Gilded Age maximalism through the use of architectural elements. No expense was spared toward cementing an aura of supreme wealth and status: lavish marbles from Italy, exotic woods and chromatic tiles from far-flung locales, and a stupendous mantel from a French château shipped at great expense for the Breakers library.

Fast-forward to the 1960s and ’70s, when Manhattan society lauded Robert Denning and Vincent Fourcade’s supremely layered rooms focused on opulent furnishings, with every surface adorned: high-gloss lacquered walls, silk damask settees, neo-baroque curtains, delicately pleated custom lampshades, and dyed-to-match passementerie. Their work was described by Architectural Digest’s Mitchell Owens as “magnificent excess” for clients as varied as Henry Kissinger and Oscar de la Renta.

And then there is the present-day decorator Kelly Wearstler’s twenty-first-century maximalism—an interpretation of old Hollywood glamour, conjured not through excess but with grand-scaled patterns, inventive silhouettes, audacious color, and her reverence for all things naturalistic, seeing Mother Nature as the ultimate source of inspiration. 

There is one quality all these incarnations of maximalist design have in common: There must be an element of surprise. Maximalist interiors always create a certain frisson, a sense of amazement, a gleeful jolt for the visitor. When you enter a maximalist room, the question remains, How did the designer ever think of that? To achieve surprise, creativity is a necessity.

Creativity in the decorative arts is expressed in the ability to think outside the oft-clichéd box—to be imaginative, to celebrate curiosity, and to come up with original ideas. It’s the creation of spaces that eclipse the predictable. The ways you’ll find designers expressing their creativity in this book fall into five categories, or chapters: color, elements, pattern, layering, and surfaces.

You’ll find an otherwise austere Manhattan entryway lacquered floor to ceiling in several shades of apple green. There’s a dizzying array of patterns in a Victorian bedroom unified by botanical motifs. You’ll find a carpet woven in an oversize, pixelated garden scene gracing a dining room floor. There’s a visually kinetic black-and-white folding screen in a Palm Springs bedroom. And there are rooms with often discordant objects, layered to perfection through a designer’s vision.

While I’m on the subject of designer vision, it’s important to note that while maximalist interiors often appear busy at first glance, there’s always a wealth of knowledge and experience that serve as the underpinnings in visually demonstrative spaces. Designers know there is a difference between curated and cluttered rooms. 

For example, interior designers understand the subtle ways to link the objects in a room to form a narrative, telling a story as the eye lands on each element and then moves to the next. An understanding of color theory is key, as when pairing complementary hues—burnished terra-cotta balanced by just the right shade of teal. And of course, there’s the interplay of silhouettes, with a feminine, curvaceous chair juxtaposed against the ridged angles of a Jean-Michel Frank sofa. 

Maximalism as a design movement is very much in vogue. Perhaps it’s our twenty-first-century wish to feel bright and celebratory; perhaps it’s the antidote to decades of midcentury-inflected minimalism; or perhaps it’s the influence of social media platforms, specifically Instagram.

As a lifelong student of design, I’m always curious to learn the “why” behind the choices made in crafting maximalist interiors. That brings me to the final component of this book: insight from the designers. I’ve interviewed the designers for each image in this book, writing the captions in close consultation with them to share their process for achieving the marvelously alchemical success of each space. Through their words, you will see each room and gain insight into their aesthetic vision. From these words and images, you will be able to channel their knowledge as thrilling inspiration for the decoration of your own home. As imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, please borrow some ideas from this book. I know I intend to!

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More Is More Is More: Color

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Pattern: Dawnridge in Peacock, by Cristina Buckley. Available through Schumacher

COLOR ~ From the book More Is More Is More: Today’s Maximalist Interiors

© Carl Dellatore, September 27th, 2022. Rizzoli New York

Lush color is the key to maximalism, as is a willingness to split with established color theory. And don’t forget to add in an unbridled dose of creativity. Along with pattern and silhouette, color makes up the triad of the foundational elements in maximalist design. One might argue that color is the most important of the three.

Historically speaking, there are countless design luminaries who understood and employed a rich, maximalist approach to color in their work. Perhaps the best example is high-society designer Dorothy Draper and her landmark decoration of the Greenbrier hotel in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia. Her brazen use of green, juxtaposed against red, reinvented a color combination that was once relegated to the end-of-year holiday season. And let’s not forget the boisterous mix of shades she conjured for each of the Greenbrier’s bedroom suites: yellow curtains against pink ceilings against red upholstery against teal-striped walls, plus riotous floral bedspreads for good measure! 

And it’s impossible not to remember Billy Baldwin’s decoration of legendary fashion editor Diana Vreeland’s living room, affectionately dubbed the “garden in hell.” Published in Architectural Digest in the September/October 1975 issue, the crimson-clad salon, with its floral chintz–lined walls and matching curtains, most certainly set a few dinner-party conversations ablaze with its unabashed flair. 

Other notable rooms with a maximalist approach to color include Albert Hadley’s legendary brass-lined oxblood library for Brooke Astor with its iconic La Portugaise chintz upholstery; Virginia-born tastemaker Nancy Lancaster’s drawing room on London’s Avery Row, with its walls sheathed in her famous “buttah-yellah” shade of yellow paint and festooned with corn-silk curtains; and Mark Hampton’s brownish black–walled library for Sue and Haydn Cutler, in Fort Worth, Texas, set off in sharp contrast by crisp white furniture and a neutral sisal rug. Even today, these rooms look bold and eye-catching. It’s obvious why they’ve earned a place in the annals of color-referenced design history. 

Interior Design by LA-based Kevin Isbell ~ Photography by Annie Schlechter

Today, as a culture we’ve pivoted to the eye-popping, kaleidoscopic, color-rich spaces that define contemporary maximalism. This all invites the question, How do I incorporate maximalist color in my home?

Esteemed interior designer Robert Couturier once told me, “I think the basics about color are like grammar: You need to learn it; you need to absorb it. And then you need to forget it. Taking risks with choosing color is key.”

Taking risks, indeed. As you turn the pages to enjoy the many glorious rooms included in this chapter, you will see designers pushing the limits with color, such as a living room inventively striped in vertical bands of progressive hues, drawing your eye around the space, or a room lacquered in a rich marine blue set off by a mix of eggplant-purple and lime-green furniture. Taking risks with assertive color creates one-of-a-kind spaces that catch the eye and delight the visitor. 

How do you know if you’ve landed on the best color, or color combination? I respectfully defer to the aforementioned Dorothy Draper, who famously said, “If it looks right, it is right!”

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More Is More Is More: Elements

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Pattern: Idris Embroidery in Navy and Multi. Available through Schumacher

ELEMENTS ~ From the book More Is More Is More: Today’s Maximalist Interiors

© Carl Dellatore, September 27th, 2022. Rizzoli New York

There are times when a maximalist interior is defined by a singular element, challenging the typical maximalist convention of a densely populated room that combines a myriad of finishes and furnishings. In these unique spaces, paradoxically speaking, less can be maximalist too. On the other hand, there are rooms where a single design element is used multiple times—either densely populated in one area or scattered throughout—adding visual interest and maximalist flair. However a potent element is utilized, it can carry a space, becoming a focal point that punctuates a room in a superlative way. 

As a rule of thumb, using an element or elements in a maximalist manner can be successfully achieved in three primary ways: through the manipulation of scale; through the singularity of an element; and, in the case of collections, through repetition.

On the subject of scale, I’m reminded of what legendary designer Juan Montoya wrote on the subject in my book Interior Design Master Class: “Create a focal point from the best pieces you can muster. Dare to be imposing. Even a small room may take on majesty if one orchestrates, sparingly, significant pieces within it: large in size, superb in style, and high in quality.”

Interior Design by Alexander Doherty ~ Photography by Marius Chira/Instagram @marius.dof

Several rooms in this chapter exemplify the ideas Montoya puts forth. One in particular is the wood-paneled entryway of a stately Tudor-style home, spare and rather austere, with an immense sculptural foot by the Italian artist Gaetano Pesce centered on an unadorned floor. Another features a piece of functional sculpture in the form of a monumental door—commissioned by the designers—set off by uniquely faceted walls. In both cases, exaggerated scale telegraphs an arresting more-is-more feeling. But when going for grand gestures, there is one caveat: dynamic pieces benefit from negative space around them, so that they can be fully appreciated.

With regard to singularity, an element in a room might stand out for its rarity or the way it’s been positioned in relation to other elements, allowing it to take center stage. An illustration you’ll find in this chapter is an antique mirrored tester bed positioned on a grand-scaled stenciled floor and surrounded by serene pink walls. 

Perhaps the idea most easily employed in maximalist interior design is the repetition of an element. Designers return again and again to this idea as a way to turn up the volume in a room. One fine example in this chapter is the ceiling of an elegant Dallas living room, which is covered in crisp, white-painted decorative plaster blocks. And there are several glorious rooms with a collection of artworks hung gallery-style that collectively command attention. 

Whatever the approach, one thing is paramount: choosing the elements of a maximalist space should be an enjoyable process. Pick elements that you respond to emotionally, elements that you will be happy to live with. Joy is a precious commodity, so by all means have it in abundance at home.

More Is More Is More: Pattern

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Pattern: Japura Forest in Green. Available through Schumacher

PATTERN ~ From the book More Is More Is More: Today’s Maximalist Interiors

© Carl Dellatore, September 27th, 2022. Rizzoli New York

In my former career as a textile designer, pattern was an omnipresent concern. Creating a design element and then engineering it to echo across the width and length of fabric was challenging yet very enjoyable work. And while stripes have always been a personal fascination, there’s a vast, ever-expanding trove of patterns for designers to utilize in maximalist rooms.

The patterns in use today have their origins in many cultures, with motifs originating from East to West. There are time-honored Persian paisleys, both traditional and contemporary interpretations; adaptations of ancient Roman herringbones in every color of the rainbow; ginghams, which are thought to be of Malaysian origin, from the Malay word genggang; tree-of-life designs born from Indian bedcovers and tent panels called palampores; and bountiful florals traced back to China and subsequently reinvented by Europeans. 

As dizzying as the breadth of patterns that exist is, there is an equally vast number of ways in which interior designers can deploy them. A grand-scaled William Morris design from the mid-nineteenth-century founder of the Arts and Crafts movement might be papered around the perimeter of a library, creating a kinetic rhythm. An awning stripe fashioned into tasteful curtains hung from lacquered white rods can serve to impose order on the landscape just outside the window. And speaking of outside, an English floral chintz, covering a range of upholstery silhouettes, transports the visitor to the gardens of a historic Essex manor house in the languishing days of a British summer.

Interior Design by Harry Heissmann ~ Photography by Kris Tamburello

Then there’s the artful juxtaposition of patterns, giving maximalist designers an opportunity to mix and match to create a range of effects. A decadent salon sheathed in an electrifying mix can feel like a 1990s Christian Lacroix haute couture runway show, providing the backdrop for invigorating conversation. Alternately, a demure bedroom with patterns that reveal a graceful mix of motifs encourages a sense of serenity just before slumber. There’s always something that creates a connection—either overtly or in a nuanced way.

Repetition of color is one tried-and-true option for mixing patterns in successful maximalist rooms. For example, a chevron-patterned rug woven in brown and white would pair perfectly with a Moorish-motif wallpaper similarly inflected with brown and accented by powder blue and silver. Repeating motifs works just as well: a delicate Indian lotus print on a tablecloth trimmed with a deep bullion fringe would mix perfectly with a blossoming peony fabric on a collection of throw pillows. The mix could be further unified by a rose-covered Aubusson underfoot, resulting in a verdant botanical flair.

Utilizing geographical references is also an excellent way to link patterns. Think wallpaper populated with chinoiserie pagodas set against a bamboo trellis upholstered on a pair of club chairs, then paired with a stylized chrysanthemum-covered folding screen. To take this idea a step further, a designer might choose a variety of locales by combining a Francophile toile, a Portuguese azulejo, and a Florentine vine, tracing a path around Europe.

With the vast knowledge the designers in this book possess on the history of the decorative arts—coupled with their curiosity and intuition—it’s no surprise that the rooms in this chapter brim with the creative use of pattern. As they would likely all agree, using patterns successfully comes down to what appeals to us personally. To quote the legendary decorator Billy Baldwin, “Be faithful to your own taste, because nothing you really like is ever out of style.”

More Is More Is More: Layering

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Kashgar Velvet Ikat in Ruby & Plum. Available through Schumacher

Layering ~ From the book More Is More Is More: Today’s Maximalist Interiors

© Carl Dellatore, September 27th, 2022. Rizzoli New York

As the title of this book suggests, “more is more” is the ethos of maximalism, and layering is the best implement in a designer’s toolbox to achieve maximalist flair. Color, finishes, materials, furnishings, and organic elements create rooms that have a larger maximalist impact than the sum of their parts. Think of it like a musical composition: each instrumental layer adds to the richness of a piece. When violins, cellos, clarinets, drums, flutes, oboes, saxophones, and French horns combine, they build toward an exhilarating crescendo as exciting as the rooms in this chapter. 

But there is one important clarification: not every layered room can be considered maximalist. For example, rooms conceived around neutral color schemes with nuanced textures and quiet, luxurious furnishings may be rich in supremely sophisticated layers and yet not over the top in any way. 

While not every layered room is maximalist, nearly every maximalist room is layered. In fact, the more richly layered a space, the more maximalist it becomes. The rooms in this book explode with such enthusiasm, exuberantly telegraphing the creativity of the designers behind each space. 

Collected interiors reveal themselves in stages and over time as the eye establishes relationships between parts of an interior. These include the finishes in a room, like wallpaper, paint, wood, stone, textiles, and passementerie. 

Then textures begin to appear as more complex layers reveal themselves: the coarse grain of rough-hewn walnut used in a shiplap wall treatment, the sheen of the highly polished marble top on a brass-framed coffee table, the chunky comfort of lush chenille upholstered onto a headboard. 

Interior Design by Brockschmidt & Coleman. Photography by Simon Watson / Trunk Archive

As the eye travels around a room, we perceive elements in slightly larger groups: the massed decorative pillows positioned on upholstered pieces astride patterned rugs, or lacquered walls punctuated by luxurious window treatments and a handsome, geometric hand-stenciled floor.

Plants add another layer—either singularly, like the large-scale rich green leaves of a fiddlehead fig tree, or in concert with one another, like a pair of Boston ferns on pedestals near a spiky Christmas cactus in full riotous bloom. 

Collections play a key role in maximizing rooms. A dozen tall Murano glass vases in differing hues would command attention on a center hall table, but their impact is enhanced even more by an assortment of Moroccan marquetry boxes interspersed with antique candlesticks. 

Books are a valuable component of any layered room; they imbue a space with a certain sense of knowledge while revealing the interests of the home’s inhabitants. When grouped with other personal mementos, such as generations of family snapshots in silver picture frames or seashells gathered from an annual sojourn to a much-loved beach, a family’s history is revealed on the shelves. 

Ask any of the designers represented in these pages, and they’ll surely tell you that when a maximalist room is layered correctly, it feels effortless—despite the skill it took to create—with each finish, material, furnishing, and object in equilibrium. It’s the secret sauce of decorating. Like the pieces of an elaborate jigsaw puzzle, a maximalist room comes into focus when every piece, every loop and socket, is connected and in its place.