New product discovery is one of the most important tasks designers face today. The challenge of simply working with the brands you know is hard enough. Today, we’re diving into a new brand to you and color, chemistry, culture—a whole new approach to what goes on your walls. You are about to hear from Maya Crowne and Price Latimer,, the visionary duo behind Alkemis Paint, a brand attempting to redefine the paint industry through sustainability, style, and substance.
Launched in 2023 after over three years of rigorous R&D, Alkemis was born out of the pandemic with a mission: to eliminate toxic chemicals from our living spaces and replace them with mineral-based, eco-conscious, air-purifying alternatives. But this isn’t just about cleaner paint—it’s about redefining how we think about surfaces, health, and design.
With a background steeped in creativity and a love for reggae and dub influencing their bold palette, Maya and Price are creating more than color—they’re creating a movement. We’ll talk about the science behind their unique formula, the challenges of launching a purpose-driven product in a tough market, and why education, authenticity, and collaboration are core to their growth.
This is a story about design with depth, color with conscience, and paint that actually breathes. Let’s get into it, right after this.
Thank you Maya and Price. Alkemis Paint, and if you’re like me, you’re walking away from this conversation with a renewed sense of what’s possible in the world of design materials.
Alkemis isn’t just making paint—they’re making a statement. One rooted in health, sustainability, and the kind of creative authenticity that sticks with you. From CO₂-absorbing finishes to culturally inspired hues, they’re bringing an entirely new mindset to the surface of modern interiors.
If you’re a designer, architect, or even a homeowner thinking about your next project, consider what Alkemis is doing. It’s more than a product—it’s a philosophy. And in a world where every choice we make leaves a mark, it’s refreshing to find a brand that’s thinking far beyond the brush.
Thanks for listening to Convo By Design. Until next time—be well, I hope this show help you stay motivated, inspired and focused so you can rise above the chaos. -CXD
Welcome to the Convo By Design Icon Registry episode for June, 2025, and today’s episode is something special. I’m joined by four extraordinary architects—Gary Brewer, Randy Carell, Grant Marani, and Roger Schiefter—partners at Robert A.M. Stern Architects, a firm globally recognized for its enduring elegance and rigor in design. Collectively, they represent decades of leadership and legacy, and I’ve dubbed them, affectionately, the Fab Four of architecture.
We’re exploring their latest book, Houses, a breathtaking volume showcasing RAMSA’s residential work from across the globe. This isn’t just about aesthetics—it’s about architecture that works, endures, and adapts. As someone who values tactile design and the subtle elegance of spaces that feel lived in, I was especially drawn to the honesty and detail these architects bring to their craft.
We’ll talk about how RAMSA evolved from a small, hands-on firm into a global powerhouse using a unique studio structure, how the architects grew up within a culture of high expectations, and how they now design homes as full ecosystems—self-contained, resilient, and deeply personal. And, how the pandemic changed the way we think about domestic space, and why, despite digital tools, the printed page still holds unmatched power in architectural storytelling.
So, whether you’re an architect, designer, student, or someone who just loves great design, this conversation is full of insight, humor, and heart. And you will hear it all form this months inductees, right after this from our Convo By Design Icon Registry presenting partner, pacific Sales Kitchen & Home.
That was Gary Brewer, Randy Carell, Grant Marani, and Roger Schiefter—four voices with a shared vision, yet distinct design perspectives, brought together in Houses, a book that feels more personal, more immersive, and more intimate than past RAMSA monographs.
What struck me most is their deep respect—for clients, for context, and for the act of living itself. Whether it’s a house in East Hampton rebuilt with reverence for sycamore trees, a modern reinterpretation of a black-and-white colonial home in Singapore, or Roger’s own renovation of a Southern California midcentury gem, these projects aren’t just beautiful—they’re functional, thoughtful, and designed for longevity.
In a world increasingly obsessed with speed and spectacle, these homes offer something slower and deeper. As one client said after moving into her RAMSA-designed house: “All I had to buy was a tablecloth.” That’s not just a compliment—it’s a blueprint for what design should be: complete, coherent, and truly lived-in.
Print may be fighting for its place in a digital age, but books like Houses remind us why it still matters. It’s not about nostalgia—it’s about permanence. About slowing down to experience a space the way the architects intended.
Thanks for listening to Convo By Design. Thank you to my partner sponsors, Pacific Sales, TimberTech and Design Hardware. And thank you for taking the time to listen. I couldn’t do this without you, wouldn’t want to. I hope this show help you stay motivated, inspired and focused so you can rise above the chaos. -CXD
This is Convo By Design—where we explore the ideas, people, and projects shaping the future of design. But you know that, I imagine this is why you listen each week… To hear stories behind the design. One of the things I have been thinking about lately is how ideas, feelings and purpose can change over time. When I started CXD in January of 2013, I thought I was speaking to design and architecture clients. Homeowners who wanted to learn about the stories behind design. From the response I received, almost immediately, I realized it was the trade I was speaking to. Well, that’s who was listening. And it was that way for years. It was probably around 2015 or 2016 that homeowners were listening and speaking to their designers about imbuing their story into the work. Personalizing it which prior to that was still seen as a detriment to resale. That idea is pretty much gone now, and that’s a good thing.
In this episode, I’m speaking with Lindsie Davis, the creative force behind Bluberry Jones, a design firm based in Texas. Lindsie’s story is rooted in authenticity—an interior designer who once felt uncomfortable in the spotlight, but found herself pulled into a public-facing role by the very nature of her work. Her creative journey weaves through fashion, art education, and eventually, full-scope interior design, fueled by instinct, passion, and an unwavering desire to build spaces with soul.
From her first unexpected design job at a paint store to launching a firm amid the uncertainty of 2020, Lindsie has leaned into change—and thrived in it. We talk about her evolution from the suburbs of Dallas to the creative haven of Wimberley, the cultural rise of Texas design, and the very real challenges and rewards of running a design business in a rapidly growing, ever-shifting market like Austin.
This conversation also dives deep into kitchens—yes, white kitchens, colorful kitchens, and how even the smallest design decisions can echo with intention and meaning. Lindsie’s perspective is one of quiet confidence, shaped by creativity, hard-earned business acumen, and a genuine love for making homes better, one thoughtful layer at a time.
That was Lindsie Davis of Bluberry Jones. A designer with a sharp eye, a creative spirit, and a grounded understanding of how to make spaces work beautifully and meaningfully for the people who live in them.
Her story is a reminder that design is rarely a straight line—it’s a winding road of experiments, pivots, passion, and perseverance. Whether she’s reimagining a kitchen, collaborating with architects on multi-year projects, or navigating the changing landscape of Texas design, Lindsie brings intentionality and warmth to every corner she touches.
Thank you for listening. If you liked this episode, share it with a friend who loves design, subscribe to Convo By Design wherever you get your podcasts. And continue the conversation on Instagram @convo x design with an “x”. Keep those emails coming with guest suggestions, show ideas and locations where you’d like to see the show.
Thank you to my partner sponsors, TimberTech, The Azek Company, Pacific Sales, Best Buy and Design Hardware. These companies support the shelter industry so give them an opportunity on your next project. Thanks again for listening. Until next time, stay focused and rise about the chaos. -CXD
This episode’s dropping in June—and if you’re listening the day, week, or even month it’s released, well, you already know that. I’ve been thinking about adding these time stamps to each episode moving forward. It just helps frame the conversation, especially considering how fast things are changing.
I just got back from a swing through California—starting up in the Bay Area and making my way down through Pasadena and LA. I met with some brilliant creatives and brand leaders to talk shop about the market, the mood, and where things stand right now.
And if there’s one thing we can all count on these days, it’s the unpredictability of… well, everything. Between extreme weather events, climate challenges, and an ever-shifting political landscape—again, not pointing fingers here—just acknowledging how these forces are impacting the shelter space in very real ways.
So, moving forward, expect more context in these intros, and more conversations focused on market dynamics—specification, supply chain challenges, and how brands are staying sharp with costs, design, and materials.
Today’s guest is Alexander Dornbracht, Vice President and General Manager of Kallista and Robern, both under the Kohler umbrella. Alex literally grew up in this industry—his family business was in the same space—so he knows it inside and out. And he’s here to give us an unfiltered look at what’s really happening out there.
A big thank you to Alexander Dornbracht—great catching up, and I really appreciate the insight. And, of course, thank you to our amazing partners: TimberTech, Pacific Sales, and Design Hardware. These are incredible companies and true friends of the trade. Please keep them in mind for your next project.
Thanks to you for listening, subscribing, and sharing the show with your friends and colleagues. If you haven’t subscribed yet, go ahead and hit that button so you get each new episode delivered straight to your feed.
I always love hearing from you, so keep those messages coming—email me at convo by design at outlook dot com and follow along on Instagram, @ConvoXDesign (with an “X”).
Until next week—thank you for spending this time with me. Be well, stay focused, and now that chaos has really settled in… do your best to rise above it.
In a thoughtful and far-ranging conversation, architect Mitch Rocheleau sits down with me to discuss the deeper layers of architecture, the critical importance of reflection in design, and the challenges—and opportunities—presented by rebuilding in the face of disaster. Throughout our exchange, Rocheleau consistently returns to one core belief: architecture is not merely about aesthetics or function, but about the human experience.
“I think architecture, if you study and reflect on it, write about it, think about it deeply, can be in some ways a storybook,” Rocheleau said early in the conversation. “You can read it and gain profound insights into the people that were building it.” Which is such a dynamic idea and one we just don’t often consider.
Thank you Mitch, Amazing. Thank you to my incredible partner sponsors, TimberTech, Pacific Sales, and Design Hardware. Amazing companies and great friends to the trade so please give them an opportunity for your next project. Thank you for listening, subscribing to the show and sharing with your colleagues. If not already subscribing, please consider that so you receive every new episode automatically to your podcast feed.
Until next week, thank you for sharing this time together, until the next episode, be well, stay focused and now that it has arrived in earnest, try to rise above the chaos.
The Power of Writing in Design
Rocheleau has become known not just for his architectural practice, but for his written reflections on the field. These writings—available via Rust Architects—provide critical insight often missing from mainstream discussions of architecture.
What drives this urge to document and reflect? Rocheleau sees it as an essential part of the creative process.
“As I’ve gone through that process [of creating], I’ve begun to feel the intuition or this need to reflect,” he explained. “To say, okay, what am I actually doing? Where is this coming from? What is the work I’m putting into the world?” Such purposeful cogitation creates the framework for managing creative ideas for a greater purpose.
This emphasis on writing as a reflective tool, rather than simply a vehicle for promotion or analysis, places Rocheleau in a tradition of architectural thinkers who seek deeper meaning in their work. He draws inspiration from historical figures such as John Ruskin, seeing the built environment as both a product and reflection of civilization.
Bridging School and Reality
A particularly compelling moment in the interview, for me, came when Mitch and I discuss a comment from architect Brian Pinkett: that architecture school doesn’t teach students how to design, but rather how to think critically. Rocheleau agreed, but pointed out a troubling disconnect between that training and the professional world.
“It seems to me that there may be in the path of architecture… a primary path, and then along the way, a series of possibly distractions,” he said. These distractions include software, rendering techniques, and other technical tools that—while valuable—can steer young architects away from their original, human-centered purpose.
Rocheleau’s concern is that without conscious reflection, the architectural process becomes reactive, not intentional. He views writing, philosophy, and psychology as tools to reconnect with that original path.
“At its essence, it all can come back to the idea of the human and what’s going on in the human’s mind as we’re walking through space.”
A Lens on the Farnsworth House
Mitch and I discuss one of his recent writings on the Farnsworth House by Mies van der Rohe. While often seen as a minimalist icon of modernism, Rocheleau sees it through a more emotional and humanistic lens.
“There was this really maybe sensitive approach from Mies van der Rohe about the human experience,” Rocheleau explained. “Which is a strange thing, because I think he often doesn’t really get credit for that type of thinking.”
He views the Farnsworth House not just as an object of design, but as a symbol of a new, more transparent way of living—one that connects people more directly with their surroundings. The building, in his view, represents not only architectural purity but emotional vulnerability.
“It’s massively freeing to think that it’s possible to live that way,” he said of the open, glass-walled structure.
Lessons from the Past: Venice as a Living Artifact
Turning to another of Rocheleau’s essays, I highlighted a piece on the architectural history of Venice—an improbable city that, as the architect pointed out, “shouldn’t exist.” The challenges Venice faced gave rise to unique solutions, like the Venetian chimney, which doubled as both an artistic feature and a fire safety measure.
“It’s this confluence of beautiful art and necessity,” Rocheleau explained. “Somebody’s in a challenging place, and they’re problem solving.”
For Rocheleau, Venice exemplifies how constraints and adversity often lead to innovation. He contrasted this with the top-down, utopian visions often proposed by urban planners—visions that may be beautiful but are often divorced from lived reality.
“Without those challenges, that city would not be what it is today,” he noted. “There’s a bit of hollowness in a plan that hasn’t faced resistance.”
Rebuilding After Disaster: Southern California’s Moment
Los Angeles and Southern California in the wake of wildfires that have devastated communities. With the surge in rebuilding efforts provide both risk and an opportunity.
Rocheleau sees parallels with Venice’s resilience—suggesting that, just as hardship led to innovation in the past, today’s crises could inspire smarter, more human-centered urban planning.
Rocheleau agrees that now is a time to reflect deeply on what kind of environments truly serve humanity—not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually.
“I think we should reflect as a collective society… to help us get a better compass for how to proceed with architectural work in the future.”
The Takeaway: Thought Before Form
Throughout the discussion, Mitch Rocheleau makes a compelling case that architecture is as much about thought as it is about form. His writings, rich with philosophy, psychology, and historical insight, aim to bring intentionality back into a profession often overwhelmed by trends and tools.
In a world dealing with climate disasters, urban sprawl, and shifting cultural values, his voice is a reminder that architecture has always been—and should remain—a human art.
Rebuilding Los Angeles: Balancing Urgency, Legacy, and Vision for the Future
In the wake of disaster, the urgency to rebuild is often overwhelming. Families are displaced, communities fractured, and infrastructure shattered. It’s entirely human to want to move quickly—to restore normalcy, provide shelter, and begin again. But what if moving fast risks missing the chance to do something truly transformational?
This tension is especially evident in places like Los Angeles—a sprawling, layered urban environment that defies easy categorization. To understand LA is to understand that it’s not one unified city but a complex mosaic of neighborhoods, each with its own identity, architecture, and community fabric. In a region so rich in diversity and history, rebuilding isn’t just about putting walls back up—it’s about deciding how we live, why we build, and what legacy we leave behind.
The Dangers of Rebuilding in Haste
The instinct to rebuild quickly is understandable, especially after catastrophe. But speed can come at the cost of quality, thoughtfulness, and long-term resilience. As one architect reflected, there’s a real risk in responding with haste: the impulse to recreate the same structures, to replicate familiar patterns without taking the time to reflect on what worked, what didn’t, and what could be improved.
Rather than defaulting to “build back the same,” there’s a compelling argument for pausing—just long enough—to ask deeper questions. What are the values of the community? How should infrastructure serve people today, and tomorrow? And how can the rebuilt environment contribute not just to housing needs, but to culture, identity, and connection?
Preservation vs. Progress: A Los Angeles Dilemma
Los Angeles faces a unique architectural paradox. On one hand, it houses some of the most iconic mid-century and modernist structures in the country. On the other, it is a living, breathing organism that constantly evolves—one that doesn’t (and arguably shouldn’t) preserve everything for the sake of nostalgia.
Take the example of Eichler homes. Built as part of the post-World War II housing boom, these homes reflect a critical shift in how Americans thought about suburban living. With open courtyards, indoor-outdoor flow, and modern materials, Eichlers weren’t just houses—they were a statement about a new way of life. They marked a philosophical and aesthetic evolution, one that mirrored broader changes in society.
But here’s the irony: while Eichlers are celebrated today as architectural gems, they were once just part of a larger tract housing movement—one often dismissed for its uniformity and lack of design rigor. This contradiction highlights the challenge of preservation: how do we decide what is “worth” saving? What makes one tract home a heritage site, while another is fair game for demolition?
A Moment of Opportunity
Today, Southern California has a rare opportunity—perhaps the greatest since the postwar boom—to reshape the urban landscape for generations to come. Disaster, as tragic as it is, presents a unique chance to not just restore, but to reinvent.
It’s a chance to take what we’ve learned—about materials, sustainability, equity, and design—and apply it at scale. To create housing that isn’t just affordable, but beautiful and dignified. To craft public spaces that foster connection. To reimagine density not as a threat, but as a solution to sprawl, climate strain, and social isolation.
This isn’t about tearing down the past. It’s about learning from it—and building a better future because of it.
The Role of Architectural Language
Architecture is a language, and like any language, it evolves. Styles shift, materials change, needs adapt. Yet at its core, good architecture speaks to the human experience. It tells a story—about how we see ourselves, our values, our aspirations.
In the absence of nuanced architectural criticism, however, these stories are often lost. Today’s social media environment favors snapshots over substance, impressions over inquiry. A photo of a sleek facade might go viral, but who explains the deeper design choices? Who critiques whether a building works—not just visually, but emotionally, functionally, and socially?
This is why thoughtful architectural voices are needed now more than ever. Not just to defend preservation or promote innovation, but to interpret, contextualize, and push the conversation forward.
Learning from the Masters—And Moving Beyond Them
Even the most revered architects had blind spots. Visiting Frank Lloyd Wright’s Price Tower in Bartlesville, Oklahoma, one is struck by its grandeur and ambition—but also by its shortcomings. The dramatic design includes soaring glass expanses and rich materials, but also narrow hallways and impractical living spaces. One secretary’s desk was placed beneath a half-wall that blocked her view, despite floor-to-ceiling windows nearby. It’s a reminder that architectural vision can sometimes ignore human needs.
These imperfections don’t diminish Wright’s legacy—but they do highlight the importance of designing not just for expression, but for experience. Today’s architects must balance vision with empathy, aesthetics with usability.
Toward a New Los Angeles
What does the next Los Angeles look like? That depends on the questions we’re willing to ask—and how brave we are in answering them.
Can we build faster and better? Can we honor the past while embracing the future? Can we move beyond labels—“modernist,” “traditionalist,” “preservationist”—and simply strive to create environments that work for people?
The answer lies not in one master plan, but in many conversations—among architects, planners, community members, and leaders. It lies in resisting the pressure to rush, and instead seizing this moment to do something deeper.
Los Angeles is not static. It never has been. But it can be intentional. And in that intention lies the hope of a more resilient, equitable, and inspiring city for the next generation.
