Curating Stillness: Colin King on Crafting Spaces with Depth and Emotion

Colin’s Tribeca loft, a space for careful observation and meditation, is both a testament to his tranquil style and a reflection of his dynamic career. Things are always in motion here, with potential clients and collaborators dropping in for meetings. We visit Colin in the heart of this creative universe to discuss the origins of his career, his everlasting quest for inspiration, and the importance of making big plans while staying attuned to life’s small wonders.

Before embarking on an interior styling journey, you were a professional dancer. What qualities did you take away from the dance world to your work in interiors?

I am constantly discovering how dance translates into my work. Dance is among the most disciplined art forms because you work with your body as an instrument — an instrument that changes daily. Some days you feel balanced and energized, while on others, you might feel weak, tired, or even injured. I think that this discipline is something I will always carry with me. It’s the mindset of showing up at the ballet barre to strengthen your body and refine your instrument, no matter what.

From a styling perspective, dance offers a unique way of seeing the world. Through movement, dancers develop a nonverbal form of communication, and similarly, styling communicates a visual language that is universally understood. It’s great because everyone can interpret it in their own way.

Dance is an art form that I continue to practice, and I see how it has taught me spatial awareness. It has influenced how I perceive and feel in a space. In dance, side lighting is often used to avoid flattening movement, which allows for depth and dimensionality. Similarly, I prefer side lighting in interiors to highlight the multi-dimensionality of objects and space.

What was your journey like transitioning into interior design?

People often ask me how I got into this, and I honestly don’t have one simple answer. It’s funny — I didn’t even know this career existed, and I certainly wasn’t actively pursuing it. Looking back, I believe something greater was guiding me toward this path. It definitely wasn’t a linear journey.

After finishing my studies in dance at a college in New York, I was doing a bunch of odd jobs, trying to pay rent while auditioning for different things. It’s funny because college was such a unique, beautiful bubble where I could study intensely, but the reality of making a living as a dancer was much tougher. So, I moved to LA, danced for a bit, and eventually transitioned into personal training. A lot of dancers go into fitness because we know our bodies so well.

As a personal trainer, I traveled the world and met fascinating people. I was exposed to homes I had only seen in books or magazines, and experiencing design in these private homes triggered something inside me. Soon after, I became the estate manager for one of my clients, managing seven homes. That’s where my styling really began — I arranged flowers, styled spaces, and documented each home’s unique style. I started taking pictures of everything.

I then went on to work for a design firm as their content manager. They had a little shop in front of the firm, which I was responsible for. I would style the shop, photograph it, and manage their social media. This was back in 2015 when Instagram was really taking off, and I used photography and social media as my creative outlet. During this time, I moved back to New York, and people started referring to me as a stylist, to which I would laugh and say, “I don’t even know what that is!” A photographer friend brought me onto a shoot and asked me to style the scene, and everything just happened organically. Somehow, Architectural Digest got my name, and I started working on editorial shoots once or twice a month. It really snowballed from there. I was still supplementing my income with personal training and getting a crash course in design as a junior designer for Tom Delavan. The rest is history — I got an agent, and here we are today.

How much have you transformed your Tribeca loft from its original state?

The changes were mostly cosmetic. I restored the pine floors to their original condition and replaced all the hardware, doors, and lighting fixtures — the little things that make a big difference. I knew that if I had a solid framework, the rest would fall into place. One of the most time-consuming parts was finding the perfect wall color. I collaborated with Kamp Studios to create a custom shade. My apartment is surrounded by red brick buildings, so it was tricky to find a neutral tone that wouldn’t pull too red or yellow. I didn’t want a beige space, but I wanted something warm that would harmonize with the floors.

I’ve seen several versions of your apartment online. How often do you change the setup in your loft? Do you make major changes, or are they usually smaller adjustments?

My space is a reflection of how I feel or where I’m at in life, so things are constantly shifting. New York apartments, no matter how grand, often have small elevators. For example, the blue sofas I designed with Future Perfect had to be cut in half just to get them into the apartment! So, I’ve been avoiding major changes because of those limitations.

However, smaller adjustments happen all the time. Some Saturdays, I’ll put on music and experiment with different layouts. I should probably be a spokesperson for those little furniture moving pads — I have them under everything, so I can move pieces around by myself. It’s amazing how much a space can feel different just by rearranging things. Whether it’s swapping lamps or moving items between rooms, it always brings a fresh perspective.
I also like to surprise myself. I’ve turned side tables into coffee tables, stools into benches, and so on. The table I’m sitting at right now? It was once a coffee table with the legs unattached, resting on a plinth for a couple of weeks. It’s all about improvising and seeing your space in new ways.

Is there an object in your apartment that holds special sentimental value for you?

It might surprise people, but sometimes the things that mean the most aren’t on display. I have handwritten notes from people close to me, and I know exactly where they are in my apartment. They hold so much meaning. I don’t have much attachment to objects as a stylist — as long as I have a memory or image of them, I’m okay with letting things go. The objects I value most are those that carry a story or were gifted to me. For example, I have a small brass egg from a friend whose child I’m the godfather of; it’s engraved with his name and birth date. Or a bowl I got from a flea market in Japan, gifted by my friend Adrian. I also have a quilt my mom made for me. It doesn’t really fit with my aesthetic, so I don’t have it out, but knowing where it is in the apartment gives me comfort. Those personal pieces, with stories behind them, are what holds the most sentimental value for me.

What do you appreciate most about living in NYC? Do you see it as your permanent home?

I love New York, and I don’t see myself living anywhere else — at least not in the United States. It definitely feels like home. What I appreciate most about the city is that you can step outside and be immersed in everything from culture to fashion to architecture. As an artist, it’s so important to always be seeking inspiration, and New York provides that endlessly. 

It’s easy to get stuck in your own bubble, but in this city, you’re surrounded by eight million people, all trying their best to succeed — and that can be tough. I feel this determination, this drive, and a silent camaraderie between us.

I grew up isolated on a farm in Ohio, so being surrounded by people and almost being forced into interactions is something I’ve come to value. It pushes me, and it keeps me connected in a way that feels essential to my life and work.

You’ve mentioned being inspired by life’s everyday rituals, gestures, and imperfections. How do you find these small moments in a busy life?

It started when I became a stylist. I was drawn to things that didn’t feel overly styled. I didn’t want to lose the natural feeling of a photo by making it look too perfect or rigid. A big part of being a stylist is knowing when to step back and let things be, allowing imperfection to shine through. I’ve always been interested in capturing scenes that aren’t obvious — like a cloakroom in a museum, a table people just left, or the way a curtain falls when someone pushes it aside. Those are the moments I try to create as a stylist. I want my arrangements to evoke a sense of humanity, to feel lived-in and real.

Designing someone’s home is a task that carries a great deal of responsibility. What philosophy about the concept of “home” resonates with you the most, and what do you believe a home should be? 

What I’ve come to realize is that traditional interiors and styling don’t always overlap. A home needs to be functional for the people living there, while photos are often about capturing a curated moment — you don’t see outside the frame. A private home should reflect the people who live there and be practical enough to support their lifestyle. In my own space, which also doubles as my studio, I’m constantly thinking about how I’d design it differently if I didn’t have people over so often. I’d probably have a cozy bed to watch TV and relax in. Ultimately, a home should be a place of respite. I think people can get overwhelmed trying to make their home a perfect reflection of who they are, which can lead to stress when they can’t afford certain things or have to compromise on a rental. My advice would be to focus on the small things that bring you joy and tell your story. Collecting pieces that mean something takes time, and just like you, your space is always evolving. It should reflect where you are in life, not just some fixed idea.

What’s your usual starting point when working on a new project? Do you approach each one the same way?

Like most creatives, I have these little sparks where my brain starts making connections, and I begin to see things. My mind works visually, so I get flashes of books or images I’ve seen, and I start building a mood around them. Sometimes it’s based on a color palette or a combination of colors I’ve noticed on the street. I always rely on this mental image bank when starting a new project. I’m also a huge book collector, and I love going through them for inspiration. That’s what makes me take my job so seriously — most people will experience interiors through a photo, not in person. My job is to create a moment in time that people will be able to experience in a book or magazine in the future.

Speaking of books — your apartment is filled with so many. What are your three favorite ones at the moment?

I love books, and they’re one of the easiest things for me to bring back from my travels. I always make it a point to visit local rare bookstores, and I also collect pamphlets from museums and gallery shows I’ve been to. As for my three favorites right now…

One is a little sketchbook by Jack Ceglic, who was one of the silent partners behind Dean & DeLuca, the iconic grocery store in New York from the ’70s. He was one of the first people to treat food like art. I had the pleasure of meeting him and even posed for one of his drawings. His sketches are incredible.

Another favorite is The Private World of Yves Saint Laurent & Pierre Bergé. I recently visited Tangier for the second time and stayed at Villa Mabrouka, their former home. I’m fascinated by how they lived — their interiors, their collection of art, and their appreciation for craftsmanship. They traveled extensively and brought so much of that influence into their spaces.

The third is a photo album by John Pawson. It’s just his own simple, almost mundane photos with small captions about why he took each one. It might be something as small as leaves gathered in a corner or a shadow on a building. It’s unpretentious, and I’m always intrigued by how other creators see the world around them.

The world of styling and interior inspiration is more saturated than ever. How do you find your own style or develop an original concept in an era where everything is instantly accessible online?

When I first started my career in styling, I never thought burnout could happen. But today, I realize how important it is to keep things fresh. It’s easy to get caught up in what’s trending or what everyone else is doing, but I’ve found that when I rely on my own instincts and trust my creative abilities, that’s when the magic happens. It’s almost like a reflex — knowing that I have the vision within me and trusting it fully. That’s when I open up the channel to create without being overwhelmed by outside noise. 

Inspiration for me is more about capturing a feeling rather than replicating what I see. It could be something simple, like how a chair is placed next to a lamp in a particular composition — not to recreate it exactly, but to capture the mood or the essence of the arrangement. It’s not about copying what’s already been done but translating that emotion into something new.

In a world saturated with images and ideas, I think it’s vital to go inward and trust that no one sees the world quite like you do. That’s where I find peace amidst all the noise — knowing that my perspective is unique.

Lately, I’ve also become more intentional about what I share. There’s so much out there, and when things get overwhelming, I tend to quiet down and focus on what feels authentic to me. I believe that trusting in your own vision and investing in yourself is key.

Your journey was quite unique, and the creative landscape has changed dramatically over the last decade. If you could give one piece of advice to young interior stylists, what would it be?

No matter the discipline, I’d tell them to just start creating — don’t wait for someone to hire or discover you. There’s a Picasso quote that always stuck with me: “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” I remember creating little vignettes, going to the flower market, trimming a branch, and just starting to make things. Whatever you envision for your career, find those small, everyday actions that can bring you closer to it. It can be as simple as that. It’s also really important to put your work out there. For me, sharing my compositions online was a great way to show how I see the world. If you look forward to sharing your work, that can also be a good barometer for whether it’s strong.

What would be your dream project?

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. I feel like the best way to figure out what’s next is to picture your ideal day and work backward from there. I’ve been sketching out what I want that day to look like. Do I want to be a creative director for a brand? Do I want to focus on my own work? As an artist and business owner, the balance between art and making a living is always tricky. But I think my dream project would be creating a space — maybe a shop or gallery — where people could experience the things I’ve collected or made firsthand.

I’ve curated a few shows, like one in the Hamptons at Jack Lenor Larsen’s house for Object & Thing, and having people actually walk through the space felt vulnerable, but also really special. Most people only see my work in photos, so letting them experience it in person would be amazing. Honestly, I haven’t had everything quite fully figured out — I just said yes to things and let them take me where they were meant to. So, I will continue doing that and we’ll see what happens.