How have queer spaces shaken up the architectural canon?

Belsize Park, in north London, exudes an upscale conformity. The neighbourhood’s leafy streets are lined with archetypal Victorian houses, offset from the pavement to accommodate well-manicured front gardens. Adam Nathaniel Furman’s home is set on one of these streets, occupying a characteristically handsome coach house. But on the other side of the front door, it quickly becomes clear that this is far from the typical Belsize Park abode.

The arched doorway to a studio at the back of the property opens to reveal a riot of colour and clutter. The walls are lilac and mint green, the gabled ceiling is pale blue and pink, and there are accents of bright yellow throughout – colours that clash on paper but somehow come together as a cohesive, exuberant whole. The studio is replete with Furman’s design output: rugs that evoke the ornamental traditions and summer light of the Mediterranean, a table with a flamboyant radial pattern, lamps with fluted porcelain bodies reminiscent of Roman columns, plywood chairs whose forms approximate intimate body parts.

The space points to Furman’s deep entanglement with architectural history, an affinity for wide-ranging, co-edited with architectural historian Joshua Mardell. Though for reasons of modesty and timing, the studio didn’t make the cut. This issue of Wallpaper* is its first appearance in any publication.