Finding Center

Lately I’ve been touring more traditional homes.

Not casually traditional — but fully axial, deeply symmetrical interiors. Centered fireplaces. Identical armchairs. Perfectly aligned art. Matching lamps. Repeated moldings. A clear spine running through the room.

And I’ve found myself unexpectedly drawn to them.

Not intellectually.

Physically.

There’s a calm that settles in when you step into a space that is fully centered. Your eye doesn’t search for hierarchy. It’s given one. The architecture establishes the focal point. The furnishings reinforce it. Nothing competes.

It feels composed.

And I’ve been asking myself two questions:

Why does this feel grounding right now?
And could I actually live with that much symmetry?

Because what I’ve always loved about modern interiors is something different.

I love composing things slightly off-center.

A console shifted just enough.
A grouping of three objects instead of two.
Negative space that allows the eye to travel.

Modern balance isn’t mirrored — it’s felt. It’s tension and release. It’s the quiet relationship between object and void. It’s allowing space for flow, for chi, for movement.

There’s breath in it.

In Asheville, that aesthetic has always made sense. Creativity here leans expressive. Individual. Slightly untethered.

But we are living in an off-axis moment.

Economically uncertain.
Digitally overstimulated.
Constantly interrupted.

Life feels asymmetrical.

And symmetry does something different to the nervous system.

When I was in architecture school, I read Christopher Alexander — especially his book The Timeless Way of Building. At the time, his writing about “strong centers” and wholeness felt philosophical, almost abstract.

Standing in these traditional rooms, I understand it differently.

Alexander argued that spaces feel alive when they possess strong centers — when elements reinforce one another and create coherence. A room, like a body, needs structure. It needs gravity. It needs relationships that make sense.

Symmetry is one of the oldest ways we create that coherence.

Traditional interiors use mirroring and proportion not just as decoration, but as structure. They establish an axis — a visual and emotional anchor. When two chairs flank a fireplace, when sconces reflect one another, when a dining table sits squarely beneath a centered fixture, the message is quiet but powerful:

There is order here.
There is intention.
There is stability.

Symmetry reduces visual noise. It lowers cognitive friction. It contains energy instead of scattering it.

In a chaotic world, that containment feels like care.

And yet — total symmetry can feel rigid. Almost ceremonial. Too resolved.

That’s where I pause.

Because I don’t think I’m drawn to rooms that are entirely mirrored.

I’m drawn to anchored spaces.

A living room grounded by a centered hearth — but layered with asymmetrical styling.
A bedroom balanced by nightstands — but softened by art that isn’t perfectly aligned.
A dining room that holds its axis — while allowing movement around it.

Maybe symmetry doesn’t need to dominate a room.

Maybe it simply needs to anchor it.

A fireplace centered on a wall.
A pair of chairs establishing equilibrium.
A table aligned beneath a fixture that holds the spine of the space.

And then, as the room moves outward — toward windows, toward art, toward the natural world — things loosen.

The styling shifts slightly off-center.
Objects group in threes.
Negative space opens up.
Energy begins to move again.

The center holds.

The edges breathe.

That feels more human.

In nature, perfect symmetry is rare. But strong centers are everywhere — a tree trunk before its branches, a spine before limbs extend, a hearth before a home unfolds around it.

Maybe that’s what I’m responding to in these traditional interiors.

Not rigidity.

But grounding.

In a creative place like Asheville — where landscape and architecture constantly interact — a room that holds its center while allowing its edges to soften feels aligned with the way we actually live.

In an off-axis world, we don’t necessarily need perfect symmetry.

We need an anchor.

And from that anchor, we can allow flow.