A client rarely describes a spatial problem. They describe a nuisance: "we're short of room", "it's dark", "we don't know where to put the children". The trade begins by translating those sentences into measurable constraints, then into an organisation of the space that resolves them.
Studying use before drawing
Interior design starts from what happens in a place, not from what it looks like. How many people occupy it, at what times, to do what, with which objects, what habits, what daily friction.
That study of use produces a brief: the list of what the space must allow, with priorities and with what can give way. It is that document which makes later trade-offs possible, when not everything fits.
It also distinguishes this trade from decoration, which works on surfaces, furniture and atmosphere without altering how the volumes are organised. The two often complement each other on the same project. Professional titles, the qualifications required and the extent of permitted acts vary by country and regulatory framework: describing the actual work is more reliable than invoking a title.
Surveying the existing space
You do not design on a supplied drawing without checking it. The survey measures what is actually there: dimensions, heights, apparent thicknesses, the position of openings, which way doors swing, where the water points, drains, electrical supplies, ducts and ceiling bulkheads are.
You also note what cannot be measured but decides: where the light comes from and at what hour, what the windows look onto, where noise comes from, how you enter, where people put their things on arriving.
Discrepancies between the existing drawing and reality are common. Finding them at survey stage costs a visit; finding them on site costs a project.
Volumes and circulation: what is decided before colour
The heart of the trade is organisation: where people pass, where they sit, where things are stored, where work happens, what needs to be near what.
A circulation route that is too narrow is endured at every passage. A door that swings against a cabinet is irritating for ten years. A kitchen where two people cannot work is talked about on day one. These faults are not recovered by colour or by furniture: which is why they are addressed first.
The work therefore consists in producing options rather than a single solution. Two different organisations, with what each allows and what it sacrifices, let the client choose while understanding the trade-off — rather than approve a proposal they have no means of questioning.
Light, ergonomics, storage: the invisible decisions
Three subjects that do not show in an image and are felt every day.
Light first: natural, according to orientation and the hours of use; artificial, distinguishing general lighting, task lighting and ambient lighting. A lighting plan is thought through with the layout plan, because it determines where the switches and fittings go.
Ergonomics next: worktop heights, clearance in front of a unit, the real space taken by a chair pushed back, accessibility for a person with reduced mobility where the project provides for it or the regulations require it.
Storage last, and it is the most underestimated subject. A cluttered interior is not badly decorated: it lacks storage volume in the right place.
The dimensioned drawing, the central deliverable
A studio's output is not a rendered image: it is a set of documents a contractor can build from. Dimensioned layout plans, floor and ceiling plans, elevations, the location of electrical and water points, finishes schedules, drawings for bespoke furniture.
A three-dimensional view helps the client understand what they are approving. It does not replace the dimensioned drawing: it is the latter that commits.
The question of who owns those documents deserves settling in writing from the outset — what the client may do with them, whether they may hand them to another contractor, what happens if the project stops. Those rules belong to the contract and to the applicable law, and are not the same everywhere.
What belongs to a qualified professional
Interior design quickly meets subjects that are not its own, and professional prudence consists in saying so plainly.
Touching a load-bearing element, opening a floor void, altering a structure, working on an electrical installation, on water or drainage services, taking down a ceiling, fixing a significant load: these belong to competent professionals and, depending on the case, to professionals authorised by the country's regulations. The designer's role is to identify the point, raise it and call in the right people — never to settle it alone because the drawing would be more elegant that way.
Any authorisations required follow the same logic: they depend on the country, the municipality, the building and the nature of the works. No procedure is universal, and a project that presupposes an authorisation is not started before it has been verified.
The United Nations Environment Programme, through its work on buildings and construction, is a reminder of the sector's weight in energy use and emissions from the built environment. For an interior designer that translates into concrete and modest decisions: favour natural light and ventilation where the building allows, choose durable and repairable materials, avoid demolishing what can be kept.
Site follow-up: drawing is not building
A design studio does not carry out the works. Those are executed by contractors the client chooses, and the follow-up mission — where the contract provides for one — consists in checking that what is built matches what was drawn.
In practice: visits at defined stages, verification of setting-out before it becomes irreversible, answers to execution queries, arbitration of discrepancies, and a handover with written reservations.
Site safety belongs to those carrying out the work. The International Labour Organization's code of practice on safety and health in construction sets out the principles — work at height, manual handling, lifting appliances, protective equipment, competent personnel. A designer visiting a site complies with them and reports what they see; they do not organise safety in the contractor's place.
In the African context
Project contexts differ profoundly from one country, one city and one building type to another: there is no typical African interior design, and the value of the trade lies precisely in answering a given situation.
The first reality is pressure on housing. The United Nations Human Settlements Programme places housing at the centre of urban policy and estimates that three billion people will need adequate housing by 2030. In fast-expanding cities, a significant share of projects concerns contained floor areas, recent buildings handed over as bare shells, or houses extended in stages as means allow. Designing for a home that will evolve — a room added in two years, a use that changes as children grow — is a skill in itself, distinct from designing a fixed project.
The second is climate. Depending on the region, heat, sunlight, humidity, dust or the rainy season steer the decisions: cross-ventilation, solar protection of exposed openings, materials that tolerate humidity, finishes that can be cleaned. Designing with those conditions rather than against them also reduces dependence on equipment, which matters where the electrical supply is not continuous.
The third is execution. Depending on the market, some works are carried out by established contractors and others by independent craftspeople. That changes the nature of the deliverables: a clear dimensioned plan, simple schedules and legible dimensional references are worth more than a sophisticated file nobody will read on site. An effective designer draws for the people who will build.
The fourth is bespoke furniture. Where an imported catalogue imposes lead times and standard sizes, local joinery and metalwork allow making to the exact dimension, repairing and adapting. That is often the most economical and most durable answer to contained floor areas.
The fifth is the client relationship. In several markets, instant messaging is the main channel — first photographs of the place, approval of an option, site follow-up — and mobile payment simplifies staged settlement. The International Telecommunication Union puts the share of the world's population using the Internet at 74 per cent in 2025, with 36 per cent for Africa, the lowest of the regions it measures: these channels are therefore very useful where they exist, without ever replacing a visit or a written drawing.
What an interior designer does not guarantee
They guarantee neither the feasibility of a structural alteration before verification by a qualified professional, nor that an authorisation will be obtained, nor the final cost of works carried out by third parties, nor the schedule of a contractor they do not employ, nor a material's availability before ordering. They stand in neither for the contractor, nor for regulated professionals, nor for the competent authorities.
What they do commit to can be checked: a study of use, a survey of the existing space, reasoned options, usable dimensioned drawings, schedules, a follow-up mission described in the contract, and a handover with reservations.
That is also what makes a studio credible: real, dated projects, explained by what they solved rather than by appearance alone, an enquiry form, a calendar, quotes, contracts, invoices and genuine reviews. No software is compulsory, and no rendered image replaces evidence of what was built.
Artificial intelligence can help structure a brief, organise stated needs, explore layout directions, produce text variants, sort references or prepare a checklist. It does not know a place's real dimensions, does not invent constraints it has not seen, validates no structure, replaces no qualified professional, and a generated render is never proof that a layout can be built.