I imagine kitchens as they unfold over the course of a day.

Morning light moves across the counter as a familiar routine begins — fruit is sliced and lunches are set aside for later. Midday brings a moment of preparation — containers set out, ingredients rinsed, a charcuterie board arranged with care. As evening settles in, the one you share life with works at the stove, your teenage daughter sorts through the mail from the cozy booth, college decisions in mind, or your longtime friend pours a glass with the intention of staying a while longer.

I’ve always paid attention to kitchens in film, especially the ones meant to recede from focus. In late-century cinema, where domestic life grounds the story, these spaces draw people together without effort. In one of Steven Spielberg’s films — an intergalactic story about an otherworldly visitor — the kids instinctively gather in the kitchen, like so many other nights. Those moments stay with me.

That’s the kind of kitchen I love creating. Spaces that are tailored to the way a family actually lives. Designed to support nourishment, conversation, and staying where you are.