a case for “gezellig” modernism

so, with the clocks going back and the days getting darker, i chose a timely topic for our october blog post. some if you might know this about me but i used to live in the netherlands for a bit - the design culture of the country is just exceptional so i might bring more examples later. but there is a little fascination as well with the dutch word gezellig as it has become one of those untranslatable design-world favourites. it turns up in lifestyle pages, pinterest captions and café menus, usually next to fairy lights and hot chocolates. but like most cultural imports, it’s been flattened in translation.

so what it is then? because gezellig is not “cosy”, not entirely. ask a dutch person what gezellig means and they might talk about a social setting, a place or a moment shared, an evening, a conversation. something that feels just right, with the right companionship. it is not a design term although the somewhat related “hygge” was hijacked much the same way by interior lovers so we can think about this from that spatial perspective too. in that sense, you could see it as being surrounded with a pleasant atmosphere. this is always going to be coming from the company you enjoy but also being enclosed in a space you feel comfortable in - and it is this design sense we’re talking about today.

a spontaneous communal space for sharing evening moments with neighbours - haarlem (photo by zita)

in that kind of hijacked-by-design sense, gezellig is as down to proportion as well as sentiment. it’s the pleasure of spatial logic functioning well - which explains why it appears so naturally in dutch design. you can think of the quiet, picturesque side streets off the main canals, but it’s a concept modernists take on too. think about gerrit rietveld’s schröder house, where planes slide and pivot to create a sense of adaptable intimacy. or, if you prefer a touch of the post-modern and you’re not afraid of a bit of the old cliché, you can also consider piet blom’s cube houses in rotterdam, which literally tilt domestic space into new geometries - but still feel surprisingly humane. these are environments that invite curiosity and domesticity at the same time.

the kubuswoningen in rotterdam (photo by zita)

an interior scene in the kijk kubus (source: wikimedia commons)

the cultural reading of modernism has long painted it as cold, austere, emotionless and rational. yet many dutch and also nordic designers work from the opposite principle: that good order is itself empathy. a well-proportioned chair, a clear grid, a balanced room: these are not emotional voids, but frameworks for care and joy. if form follows function, and the function is living well, then it is good design.

in that sense then, a modernist space can feel completely “gezellig” (even though it isn’t inherently a design term and much less a decorating one.) yet, if you are surrounded by order in the right proportions, with room for the right company around you, you can completely feel this way.

we like to think warmth comes from softness — fabrics, string lights, cushions — but gezelligheid is rarely about clutter. it’s material honesty that makes a space feel grounded, and room for those shared moments.

this is where gezellig quietly overlaps with what i sometimes call cosy rationality in my love for modernism, and also my textiles. zitozza patterns begin with logic: a block, a grid, a plan. but through touch, repetition and imperfection, they turn structure into atmosphere. the pattern is so much more than surface decoration; it’s rhythm and proportion given a physical surface.

modernism understands this perfectly. warmth is achieved through light and material rather than ornament — brick, textile, tiles, all exist to give room to inhabit, rather than overwhelm. it’s why concrete in the right context can feel as gezellig as oak.

comfort in modernism - békéscsaba, hungary (photo by zita)

AI interpretation of a “gezellig” interior using zitozza textiles

perhaps gezellig offers a way to rethink modernism’s reputation. not as a style of severity, but as a practice of calm. the neat repetition of façades, the modular rhythm of housing blocks, even the shadow of a stairwell — all contain a kind of order that feels peaceful, if not “cosy” in the conventional sense.

in textile design, that same impulse translates into repeat, rhythm, and scale. a pattern that repeats just so, aligning form with material, becomes more than visual — it becomes spatial. maybe that’s where architecture and textiles quietly meet: in the shared pursuit of gezelligheid through proportion.

to me, gezellig sits somewhere between company and peace. it’s not emotional in the ornamental sense, but in the human one: proportion, care, attention to the tactile. it’s what happens when design supports life rather than dominates it. so perhaps it’s time we reclaimed gezellig from the coffee-table clichés (although i’m partial to one too many string lights). it’s not a moodboard, but a method. a spatial feeling built through light, texture, and structure. and if that sounds suspiciously modernist — well, maybe modernism was never as cold as we thought.

the bernat klein studio (pt. 2) - an unfunded fantasy or a serious vision for a creative hub

if you’re up to date with your modernism, i’m sure you will have heard the news already about the heralded bernat klein studio by peter womersley. if you’re new, let me break it to you: it is up for auction for a guide price of just £18,000. camper vans are more expensive than that.

but this is a grade A lised building in the scottish borders, currently on scotland’s buildings at risk register - it was already in an awful state in 2016 when i first visited and i can only imagine the state it is in now. as sat derelict since the early 2000s and like so many modernist gems, it’s not only been neglected but overlooked. with its protected status, i do wonder about the real amount of funds required to restore it into anything structurally sound. but one can dream, right?

as many of you already know, i visited this building during my university days as part of a project exploring womersley’s work. it left a deep impression, the proportions, the materiality, the quiet authority of its modernist geometry while retaining the human scales and the airy, cantilevered forms that is such a signature style of womersley’s genius.

and so, naturally, as a brutalist and modernism-obsessed textile designer, it feels like it’s my duty to fantasise about it a little. so i’ve been daydreaming and i’ve created a series of speculative interior visualisations using AI – don’t shoot me for using it, i know fine well these renders are a not a replacement for reality (some prints really do not resemble zitozza at all and don’t even get me started on the cat..), nor is this a serious, budgeted proposal. it’s just a little bit of fun to put some ideas out to the universe and help stimulate the imagination about the building’s future. (or as the kids would call it, “manifesting”…)

in this parallel universe, the studio is lovingly restored not into an airbnb or a “writer’s retreat” (sorry barnabas calder, love your books but we really can do better here.) so in my head i turned it back into a working textile studio instead. my vision is an idea that is only half-selfish, and it would also contribute to the economy and give back to the scottish borders. i’m obviously thinking about zitozza here, but also a space for creative jobs, education, apprenticeships, and professional development. it could be quite a serious place for the textile industry with not only a space for designing, printing and production but there could also be workshops, residencies and exhibitions – continuing the building’s original purpose and klein’s spirit of thoughtful and considered, sustainable design.

okay, yes, the millions required to make it happen are currently in the realm of fantasy… but hey, everyone tells you that to do well in business you need to dream big so that’s exactly what i’m doing.

so, here’s a (completely unbudgeted) proposal. we don't need more holiday houses – we need permanent homes for making and creativity. modernist ideas - egalitarian notions of simplicity, abstraction and rational proportions - need to make a comeback and become mainstream again. spaces where design isn’t just theorised and talked about but physically made to furnish real spaces. achitecture, at its best, can enable that.

these are my ai generated fantasies, but it’s also a bit of food for thought. and hey, if you don’t have the money but want to keep the dream alive you can always just buy a teatowel… but if you do happen to have a few million pounds to spare and a soft spot for brutalist textile utopias, well, you know where to find me!

***edit: serious news! you can actually donate to bring it back to life, open to the public as a design centre - the bernat klein foundation along with the national trust and the scottish historic buldings trust have joined together in a bid to raise funds to acquire it and you can contribute to the cause.***

the joy of modular design - a few thoughts ahead of our new collection launches

ahead of our new collection launches, i want to revisit a core idea behind zitozza: the joy of modular design. it’s at the heart of how we create patterns — and why our textiles bring so much flexibility, structure, and character to modern interiors. we talked about this before, in our very first blog post - but we’ve come a looong way since then so it’s perhaps time to revisit these thoughts because i feel like it’s at the core of everything here, yet there is so little written about on these pages.

there’s something quietly satisfying about a system that lets you build from the ground up — pattern by pattern, block by block. at zitozza, modularity has always been at the heart of what we do. it’s more than a method; it’s a mindset.

the act of printing by hand using custom-made blocks invites a kind of architectural thinking. each motif becomes a unit — a brick, a tile, a module — capable of being repeated, rearranged, or rotated to form something larger. the process echoes the very structures that inspire our designs: functional, concrete, geometric. it’s a design language rooted in the modernist ideal that beauty comes not from decoration, but from clarity, rhythm, and purpose.

and yet, there’s so much play in it too.

modularity allows for variation — for reassembly, surprise, even subversion. every print starts with a simple shape, but it rarely ends there. colours collide, edges misalign, and new patterns emerge unexpectedly. it’s not about perfection, but about the whole picture, richness that comes from composition. the hand-printed surface becomes a space of improvisation. each textile becomes a landscape, or rather, a cityscape with buildings and structures.

our new tiles, the RAJZ set (to be released soon!) takes this even further. designed for modern interior spaces - we printed this on wallpaper for the first time ever! - and inspired by the abstract logic of architectural plans and schematic drawings, these blocks are designed for movement and multiplicity. they're not just shapes, but visual cues — arrows, intersections, corridors, walls. they suggest flow. they ask to be built with. as part of the MODERN set of course, these will go seamlessly with other blocks, allowing you to create even more patterns.

the upcoming TOYTOWN and AGGREGATE collections (also coming in may) are just our way of creating with our existing sets. they embrace this philosophy in different ways — one playfully, the other structurally — but both grounded in the joy of repetition and reconstruction. you’ll see echoes of grid systems and city plans, the raw tactility of concrete, the subtle logic of elevation lines. and you’ll also see softness, colour, and warmth. because modularity doesn’t mean rigidity — it means possibility.

i designed these two very different new collections for this summer, to emphasise the variety of moods, colour schemes, looks that you can create with the same handmade process, the same handmade texture, yet very different interiors can be achieved. i love this kind of versatility and if you want to create your own look with these systems, start here.

in an age of ready-made looks and fast consumption, there's something refreshing about design that invites creativity and such freedom of thought. modular design is never final. it welcomes revision, addition, and layering. it lets people participate in the pattern.

and that’s the joy of it.

if you want to be among the first to browse our collections when they’re released, sign up below to our newsletter. it comes with a free downloadable poster every month. stay tuned for our release!