modular

ARCHITECTURE, INSPIRATION, INTERIOR DESIGN, JUTE

material vs surface: what do we touch when we decorate?

this is going to be another one of those meandering blog posts but those who know zitozza will appreciate how much i value tactile, haptic design and i often explore this further — even on the buildings i frequently post about. in interior design, it’s often the surface that gets the glory. glossy interior magazines, pinterest kitchens, machine-mixed, precisely matched wall paints — all of these speak first and foremost to the eye. but do they speak to the hand? we decorate our homes by looking, mostly. but living happens through touch.

why touch matters

this re-discovering of tactile design has been going on for a while, finnish architect juhani pallasmaa argued in the eyes of the skin that modern design has lost its connection to the body. “architecture” he wrote, has become “an art of the printed image” — increasingly flat and ocular, distant from the sensory depth it once held. we experience spaces with our skin as much as with our eyes, but you wouldn’t know it from most interiors magazines.

touch is the forgotten sense of design — until you step onto a coarsely woven jute rug barefoot, or brush your hand against a natural linen fabric. that fleeting physical experience tells us more about comfort, quality, and materiality than a thousand words of product copy.

at zitozza, this is something we take seriously. every hand block printed cushion, rug, or lampshade is an invitation to feel as well as see. the patterns may be graphic — influenced by architecture, brutalism, modernist grid systems — but the textures are deliberately tangible. you don’t just see the ink sitting on the weave. you can feel it, the texture is within the patterns and the way it is applied by brush too.

materials are more than surfaces

i want to make a clear distinction here between “surface” and “material.” although as a surface pattern designer, i have designed hard finish surfaces such as floor patterns and carvings, surface to me means something visual, often cosmetic. material carries structure, meaning, weight, and i don’t think you can design for any kind of surfaces without understanding how materials behave.

in her book thinking with things, art historian esther pasztory proposes that objects — and their materials — are not passive. we use them to think with. they shape how we relate to space, culture, and ourselves. in design, this means we don’t just use things to build with, or decorate; we also use them to express what we value.

a hand-printed lampshade might say “i believe in craft.” a concrete-textured cushion might say “i value raw honesty over perfection.” material, in other words, does not just have physical weight but also a subjective kind of significance.

this is why surface-led decorating often feels fleeting. trends change, finishes date, colours come in and out of favour. but materials with presence (e.g. stone, wood to raw jute and block-printed textures) carry weight and can be adapted to outlast different fashions.

the material as Architectural element

our work at zitozza comes from the intersection of graphic design and material design. our blocks aren’t carved by hand — they’re precision-cut from digital vector drawings, a nod to order and modernity. but once that design hits the textile, once it’s printed, imperfectly, by hand — it becomes something else. it becomes a tactile surface. a material transformation.

this is why we speak of our textiles not just as “homewares” but as architectural materials. wallpaper, for example, becomes more than wall decoration — it becomes part of the structure’s language. our newly released AGGREGATE collection for instance, can be printed by hand on non-woven wallpaper rolls and it embraces this exact idea: bold modular graphics that are not only seen but felt, shifting as light and touch interact with the ink.

what does this mean when you decorate?

it means you don’t just choose based on colour schemes. you choose based on how something feels, both physically and emotionally. that’s why the texture of a printed cushion, the density of a handwoven rug, or the grip of a paper-mounted fabric print matters. these are materials that invite interaction. they’re not background, they’re architecture in soft form.

so next time you consider updating a room, ask: what do i want to touch every day? what kind of surface do i want to live with — not just look at?

explore tactile design

if you’d like to explore zitozza's approach to materials, here are a few places to start: printed rugs (for pattern underfoot.) cushions (for texture on the sofa or bed.) mounted prints (for a feel of the cloth without needing upholstery) fabrics and wallpapers (for sampling our prints.)

MODULAR SYSTEM, INSPIRATION, ARCHITECTURE

designing with grids: a short history of order

a short while after we discussed our love for modular systems, we are talking about grids again. this isn’t just a graphic-designer-turned-textile-person’s obsession — they structure our cities, inform our screens, and quietly underpin almost every page layout and pattern we encounter. but beyond their role in organising space, grids can be a springboard for creativity, allowing designers to build complexity from simplicity. this post explores the grid not as a constraint, but as a tool of liberation — from early modernism to contemporary practice, including how zitozza plays with modularity in its textiles.

The Grid as Modernist Foundation

grids found their spiritual home in early modernist movements. bauhaus, and de stijl artists in particular, like piet mondrian reduced visual language to the essential: horizontals, verticals, primary colours. continuing the idea after the war, the swiss style emerged in the mid-20th century, with designers like josef müller-brockmann using grids to create visual harmony in posters and editorial layouts.

this was design as a rational act — about clarity, neutrality, and structure. the swiss grid system created a framework where typography and imagery could be arranged with precision. it was less about decoration and more about logic, a way to strip back the unnecessary and design a hierarchy of information.

Le Corbusier: The Grid as Urban Ideal

speaking of the swiss — we love brutalism here, so now is the time to mention le corbusier, one of the most influential figures of architecture in the 20th century. in his seminal work towards a new architecture, 1923), he argues for a new visual order grounded in function, technology, and standardisation.

le corbusier's urban visions, particularly the ville radieuse and the controversial plan voisin, proposed cities built on a grid: modular, repetitive, efficient. these were not just aesthetic gestures but ideological ones, attempts to impose order on the chaos of industrialised life.

the city becomes a machine for living. blocks of buildings aligned on rigid axes, roads intersected at clean right angles (and roundabouts - think about glenrothes!), and light, air, and greenery were prioritised through geometric planning. the social and emotional consequences of these ideas are still felt today, but their influence on modern urban environments is undeniable.

the outskirts of bratislava, by SI Imaging Services / Imazins (source: getty images)

the outskirts of bratislava, by SI Imaging Services / Imazins (source: getty images)

Grids in Graphic and Interface Design

in contemporary graphic design, the legacy of the swiss grid lives on in everything from magazine layouts to responsive web design. grids provide consistency across platforms and allow for flexibility within a rational structure.

this is something i have less experience with but it has translated on from print to digital, and in UI/UX design, it is the grids that make digital interfaces feel coherent and navigable. the hidden scaffolding of columns and gutters supports typographic hierarchies and interactive elements, creating experiences that are intuitive without drawing attention to their structure.

The Balance Between Structure and Creativity

but the grid isn’t just about order. it can also serve as a space for subversion. architects and designers often use grids to set expectations — then disrupt them. breaking the grid, or the grid itself, can both become a statement - think about the iconic tables of superstudio.

in textile design, modularity offers a similar tension. zitozza's approach to block printing starts with fixed elements—repeating tiles, geometric forms — but introduces variation through placement, layering, and colour. a grid may begin the composition, but it rarely contains the outcome. it's not unlike building a city out of toy blocks: rules exist, but imagination ultimately dictates the layout.

Grids as a Living Language

grids, like language, evolve. they provide a shared syntax for designers, architects, and urbanists, but are constantly reinterpreted across time and context. from the pure geometry of modernism to the playful modularity of contemporary practice, the grid remains one of design's most enduring tools.

at zitozza, we embrace this legacy. our new collections explore grids as both framework and provocation. they are starting points, not boundaries.

after all, there is joy in structure. and sometimes, the most surprising creativity begins with a line drawn straight.

BEHIND THE SCENES, DESIGN CONVERSATIONS, INSPIRATION, MODULAR SYSTEM, WORK IN PROGRESS

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!