THE INVISIBLE THREAD: MELANIE RAINES ON INTUITION IN DESIGN
Melanie Raines is an interior designer based in Austin, Texas whose practice is deeply rooted in storytelling, intuition, and the unseen dimensions of space. With a background spanning architecture, writing, and meditation, her design philosophy is both methodical and deeply personal. As the founder of the Hardholy Method, Raines approaches each project as an excavation of self, using inquiry, sensory exploration, and biographical narratives to shape spaces that reflect the lives of those who inhabit them.
In this conversation with Materia’s Editor-in-Chief Sarah Len, Raines reflects on her creative influences, the rituals that sustain her practice, and the power of design as portraiture. She speaks to the delicate balance between form and feeling, and how writing serves as both a tool for discovery and a way to translate her clients’ identities into meaningful environments. From her transformative experiences at Big Sur’s Esalen Institute to her belief that design thrives at the intersection of presence and intention, Raines invites us to consider space as a profound vessel for self-actualization and connection.
Through her thoughtful insights, Raines reveals that design is not just about aesthetics—it’s a way of living, feeling, and being in the world.
Sarah Len: What are some of your greatest sources of inspiration?
Melanie Raines: I love being alive at this point in time because mentorship is no longer limited by proximity. You can learn from anyone, whether you’ve met them or not. Some of my constants are Louis Kahn, Luis Barragán, Agnes Martin, Maya Lin, and Rick Joy.
A lot of my inspiration also comes in bite-sized moments—a film still, a choreographed movement, the cut of a garment, a passage from a book. These fleeting impressions shape my perspective and fuel my creative process.
SL: What is your philosophy on design?
MR: Design is storytelling. It’s biography plus atmosphere. My role is to unlock something in my clients that they didn’t even realize was there. The creative act is discovering their needs, values, and desires, and then shaping them, much like a ceramicist working clay, into a form that is uniquely their own.
A completed space continues to evolve. It’s not static. Because we’ve unearthed something essential, it remains dynamic, reflecting and growing with its inhabitants. That is the art of it.
SL: Tell me about your home you designed in Austin, Texas.
MR: Our home is a love letter. My husband, a builder, and I created it together. During construction, we spent date nights picnicking on-site with our dog, placing crystals in the walls with intentions for our life. It was never planned this way, but we moved in the week we got married.
It’s a small home, so everything has a story. The kitchen tile was made from clay sourced from the small Northern California town where my husband grew up. Books hold our memories and ambitions; scent reminds us of our travels—we burn incense from onsens in Japan or from our favorite shop in Mexico City.
We have photographs of Luis Barragán’s architecture at the front door, a reminder of our wedding at Casa Pedregal in Mexico City. A pineapple we brought back from San Miguel de Allende serves as a symbol of hospitality, reflecting both Mexican and Hawaiian traditions.
The art in our home, like our books, is central to how we live. It’s more than aesthetics; it’s about evoking significant emotions daily. We collect ceramics from our travels because they capture the hand of the maker—imperfections in the glaze, fingerprints frozen in time. These pieces bring us back to specific places and moments.
“A completed space continues to evolve. It’s not static. Because we’ve unearthed something essential, it remains dynamic, reflecting and growing with its inhabitants. That is the art of it.” – Melanie Raines
SL: What are some of your daily rituals, both inside and outside of work?
MR: I read everything—poetry, stage plays, magazines. Reading connects me to a larger lineage. I also write to synthesize my thoughts. I can be quite cerebral, so writing helps me process and communicate more clearly.
I seek moments of solitude to think deeply about architecture, design, and art. For me, design is a container for everything else I love—dance, sound, scent.
Coffee and tea are small but essential rituals, as is time in water, which is vital here in Austin. When the days get busy, I reset with breathwork and sound frequencies. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about balancing thought and feeling—there’s a time to create and a time to analyze. Honoring both has become crucial to my process. These rituals sharpen my attunement to space and form the foundation of my creative practice.
SL: Writing is a big part of what you do. Tell me about the Hardholy essays and how writing fits into your daily ritual.
MR: The essays are an exploration—I don’t have the answers; I’m just figuring it out in real time. I know in my bones that space is significant, and I’m trying to articulate why. I work with the Academy of Neuroscience for Architecture, where data informs this understanding, but much of it stays within academic circles. My goal is to break that down—both for myself and to bring meaning into my work, making it accessible for clients as we design their homes or commercial spaces.
SL: What themes do you explore in the Hardholy essays?
MR: It’s an exploration of self and space. When I first started writing, I focused on wellness—clean water, clean air, non-toxic materials. But it quickly evolved, much like Maslow’s hierarchy. Those foundational elements should be a given. What clients really want is to see themselves reflected in their space.
Space is a powerful agent for self-actualization, creative growth, and connection. It’s not just about objects in a room—it’s about their arrangement, the energy they create. That energy is never neutral; it’s either working for you or against you. Our role is to calibrate it in a way that enriches people’s lives.
Lately, I’ve been exploring the intersection of portraiture and biography. Clients want their homes to feel like them, but designers often have to guess what that means. We’ve been developing methods to ask better questions, to excavate personal narratives, and to translate them into built space.
I’m also deeply interested in neuroarchitecture and neuroaesthetics—how colors activate the brain, how textures shape experience, and how space can be designed to support specific needs. Many clients share common desires: a home as a refuge, a gathering space for family, a setting for creative expression. I love fine-tuning these elements, playing with materials, colors, and finishes to achieve those objectives.
“Space is a powerful agent for self-actualization, creative growth, and connection. It’s not just about objects in a room—it’s about their arrangement, the energy they create. That energy is never neutral; it’s either working for you or against you. Our role is to calibrate it in a way that enriches people’s lives.” – Melanie Raines
SL: How do the Hardholy Method shape your design process?
MR: Hardholy is both our philosophy and our process. Everyone wants spaces to feel like them, but that’s an abstract goal. Our method—through deep questioning, visualization, and tactile workshops—transforms that abstraction into something precise and deeply personal.
Instead of starting with inspiration imagery, we explore the unseen: the true needs, desires, and essence of each space. From there, we craft a strategy, moving through standard milestones while incorporating physical engagement. The process doesn’t end with installation; it culminates in ritual and sensory elements that make a house a home.
Design isn’t just the finishing touch; it’s a practice of self-knowing, a path to a more meaningful life. It should be both hard and holy—whatever that means to you. I love the definition of holiness as not about doing great things but doing small things with great love. That’s the life we seek to create.
SL: What would you say is distinctive about working with you?
MR: We are a method-led design studio, which means our process is highly collaborative and inquiry-based. We ask deep questions, guide visualizations, and engage in world-building with our clients early on. This helps us uncover the what before the how of design. What are the objectives? What should the space feel like? By defining those qualities upfront, the aesthetics naturally follow.
Our method moves through phases—from interior architecture to furnishings, to production and installation. Along the way, we engage clients in tactile experiences, exploring materials and surfaces in the studio. This hands-on process allows us to weave biography into the design so that the end result tells a story and creates a meaningful feedback loop between the space and its inhabitant.
Finally, we polish the experience with conversations about ritual and scent. Without those layers, a space isn’t truly alive. It doesn’t breathe. Our goal is to create environments with a heartbeat—spaces that resonate on a human level and enrich daily life.
SL: How do you integrate your meditation practice into design?
MR: My meditation practice is inseparable from my design work. For a long time, I thought I had to compartmentalize it—the creative and intuitive process on one side and the deliverables and service model on the other. But now, I see their interconnection. Clients want to be part of the process; they want to co-create their world. I serve as a channel for that, using my sensitivities as a gift rather than something adversarial.
Meditation prepares me to be in service to others. It acts as a clearing out, allowing me to channel biographical narratives into physical spaces. This openness enables me to design in a way that’s not rigid but adaptive to different people and needs. The process is the scaffolding, the method is the container, and within that, I must also do my own inner work.
Design, at its best, is deeply intuitive and meditative. It’s not about imposing control but about listening—the same lesson meditation teaches. Space is a powerful agent for self-knowing and transformation, yet it’s often treated as just another commodity. My spiritual practice allows for mystery, trusting instincts, and designing with presence rather than force.
