This story is part of our annual look at the state of American design. This year, we’re highlighting work that shines through an acrimonious moment—and makes the case for optimism.

Generally, around here, we tend to look toward the future. We’re always asking: What can a home be? What should it be? What are the ideas, structures, forms, and flourishes that open up possibilities for better ways to live?

This year, the planning for our annual American design issue coincided with a federal election, miring us in an exhausting present. The atmosphere as we finalized the issue saw the nation choking on cultural strife, political and social violence, and a normalization of suffocating hate—particularly against people of color, queer people, trans people, and women. It’s all set against a background of horrifying wars and large-scale weather disasters fueled by climate change.

Staring at the glow of my various feeds, I’ve started to feel a little like burnt toast. Now that we know the outcome of the election, the wash of notifications has only intensified. It threatens to drown out the stories of people doing something thoughtful, beautiful, affirming, and full of possibilities. So we decided to highlight some of them here.

Staring at the glow of my various feeds, I’ve started to feel a little like burnt toast.

For example, an architect’s Washington, D.C., house might as well be a billboard advertising the future of cork as a renewable building material. (Seriously, it’s everywhere.) In Santa Cruz, a builder created a home that ensures future neighbors will get to see an important local mystery. (I’m not giving anything away here.) In New Orleans, a writer documents the experience of building a vivid new home perfect for her chosen family, which more American households are starting to resemble.

Next, we challenge the homogenizing effect that social media has had on design, with trendy decor threatening to make everything everywhere look the same—remember the moment we hit peak bouclé? Our Modern World section celebrates furniture, lighting, and other objects that show how designers are drawing from the contexts they live and work in. The designers we feature in North Carolina have a pride in craft—sometimes deployed to playful ends—that will endure, even after a devastating hurricane.

Overall, the issue renews my faith that architecture can help solve crises and that it gets better when it serves all kinds of households and all kinds of communities.

Meanwhile, Amy Dantzler and her wife, Julie Anderson, decided to renovate a classic 1960s A-frame in Manhattan Beach, California, likely saving a piece of neighborhood history from being demolished to build a mansion. And elsewhere, four architects have proved that attention to design and some creative use of endangered public incentives can make low-income housing both possible and exciting.

Overall, the issue renews my faith that architecture can help solve crises and that it gets better when it serves all kinds of households and all kinds of communities. I’m not going to pretend that these houses will unite us all, but let’s take a beat to recognize that forward-looking, fun, and truly good design is still happening in America.

Top photo by Peyton Fulford

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Head back to the November/December 2024 issue homepage