Recent interior design trends have tended toward an old-house aesthetic. Picture exposed ceiling beams, weathered plaster, and step-worn stair treads. My neighborhood is full of 100-year-old houses, some with these same characteristics. But rather than tastefully chic or wabi-sabi imperfect, the houses are abandoned.
What’s the difference between an inhabited house and one left to the elements? To me, it’s the signs of life. Windows are wiped and cobwebs cleared; stale air and dust aren’t allowed to settle for long. Small, unseen, barely noticed acts that together impress, “Someone lives here.”
In the garden, landscape designers have a term for such acts. “Cues to care,” they call them. Plant a native meadow and people will just see overgrown weeds. But selectively prune, pull, and transplant, then mow a narrow band along the border, and an unfettered wild becomes legible.
We’ll notice cues to care in AI work, too. This piece of copy was trimmed of its excesses. That product’s interactions were re-sequenced with intent. Amid generative processes, we’ll recognize when a creation is maintained—sustained—by someone who lives with it.
