Jessica Davis Shares How Her Multicultural Upbringing Shaped Her Work

If you’ve ever tried to answer the question “Where are you from?” with anything longer than a zip code, you already understand the
first ingredient in Jessica Davis’s design philosophy: layers. Not just layers of paint, pattern, and texturelayers of
identity, memory, and place.

Davis is the principal of Atelier Davis and the founder/creative director of Nest Studio, a luxury hardware brand known for
sculptural knobs and pulls that feel like jewelry for your cabinets. Her rooms, like her story, don’t sit neatly in a single category.
They’re playful and polished, globally curious and deeply personalbecause her upbringing was, too.

Who Is Jessica Davis?

Jessica Davis built a career that spans interiors and product designa combo that makes sense once you realize she’s obsessed with
how people move through space and how their hands touch objects. She’s been recognized in major design circles, including being named
to the ELLE DECOR A-List, and she’s also helped create community and visibility through leadership work with the
Asian American Pacific Islander Design Alliance (AAPIDA).

A Childhood Across Continents: Sydney, Hong Kong, and Texas

Davis was born in Sydney and spent much of her childhood in Hong Kong before moving to the United Statesspecifically, to Dallasduring
middle school. That move wasn’t just a change of address; it was a full-body cultural gear shift. Going from a dense, international city
to a place where “everyone grew up together” made her feel like an outsider, and that feeling later became a professional superpower.

When “Different” Becomes a Design Skill

Growing up between cultures often trains you to read a room fast: What’s the vibe? What’s the unspoken rule? Where’s the comfort, and where’s
the tension? That sensitivity shows up in Davis’s work as an instinct for balancing oppositesold and new, bold and calm, playful and refined.
It’s the design version of code-switching, except with wallpaper instead of words.

The Melting-Pot Aesthetic: How Heritage Becomes Style

Davis doesn’t treat culture like a theme you paste onto a wall (no “instant Zen corner” starter kits here). Instead, she treats it like a
lived experience that shapes what you’re drawn to: the shapes you find comforting, the colors that feel like home, the objects that carry
story.

Chinese Antiques, British Chintz, and Hong Kong ModernismIn One Brain

In her own reflections, Davis describes being surrounded by a mix: Chinese antiques collected by her parents, floral chintz in friends’ homes,
and the modern steel-and-glass sensibility common in Hong Kong apartments. That’s not a “style.” That’s a visual vocabulary. And it explains
why her rooms can hold multiple references without feeling chaotic: she grew up learning how different aesthetics can share space.

Architecture First: The Backbone of the Story

A consistent thread in Davis’s interviews is the idea that architecture is the “jumping-off point.” In other words: before she picks a rug,
she reads the bones. What era is the building? How does light move? What’s the rhythm of windows and doorways? That approach is especially
important for designers with multicultural backgrounds, because it helps avoid “decorating with clichés.” The structure becomes the anchor, and
everything else becomes the narrative.

Example: A Mid-Century Eichler With an Art-Loving Client

One standout project Davis has spoken about is an Eichler home in Palo Alto. The clients had a strong art collection and the confidence to mix
color and unexpected pairings. That combinationgood architecture plus owners who aren’t afraid of personalityperfectly matches Davis’s sweet spot:
spaces that feel current but unmistakably lived-in.

Designing “Home” When You’ve Lived Everywhere

People who move a lot as kids often develop a complicated relationship with the word “home.” It can feel less like a fixed place and more like a
portable feelingsomething you build through rituals, objects, and the way a room holds you at the end of the day.

Davis’s work reflects that. She’s known for creating environments that feel personal and restorative, not museum-perfect. Her ethos is essentially:
don’t be preciousbe real. If life happens in the space (kids, pets, parties, the occasional “Why did we buy a white sofa?” moment),
the design should still hold up.

Why Her Rooms Feel So “Collected” (Even When They’re New)

Many designers can do “pretty.” Fewer can do “pretty and meaningful.” Davis leans into a collected look by mixing periods and textures and
by encouraging clients to incorporate objects with personal historyartifacts, heirlooms, travel finds, or pieces that reflect cultural identity.
The goal isn’t a showroom; it’s a story.

Layering as a Form of Respect

Here’s the subtle but powerful part: when a designer makes room for a client’s cultural history, that’s a form of respect. It tells the homeowner,
“You don’t have to erase yourself to have a beautiful space.” For people who’ve felt “othered” at timeslike many multicultural familiesthat
message lands hard (in a good way).

From Interiors to Hardware: Nest Studio as a Global Design Translation

In 2012, Davis founded Nest Studio, and it’s basically her multicultural, art-history brain turned into brass. The brand’s inspiration references
everything from Bauhaus and Art Deco to ancient forms and nature. That wide lens is classic “grew up everywhere” energy: when you’ve lived across
cultures, your idea of “classic” gets bigger.

Small Objects, Big Impact

Hardware is one of the most tactile parts of a home. You touch it every day. Davis has talked about creating pieces that interpret shapes she sees
in the wider design worldlike circular, jewelry-like formsthen translating them into something functional. It’s a perfect metaphor for her overall
work: turning cultural observation into everyday beauty.

Community Work: AAPI Design Alliance and Representation

Davis has also been open about the challenges of being an Asian American in a design industry that can feel Eurocentric. Helping found and lead
AAPIDA created a space for connection, visibility, and collaborationso emerging designers don’t have to feel like they’re the only one in the room.
In a field where “taste” is often treated like a narrow gate, widening that gate matters.

A Real-World Example: Texas Roots, Reimagined in a Showhouse

Multicultural influence doesn’t mean a designer ignores their American roots. In fact, Davis has leaned into themespecially her Texas connection.
For the Kips Bay Decorator Show House in Dallas, she created spaces inspired by Texas sunsets, using warm rust tones with pops of green and richer,
deeper hues as the palette intensified. It was a grounded, place-based conceptfiltered through her highly layered sensibility.

What We Can Learn From Jessica Davis’s Approach

1) Don’t “theme” culturelive it

The strongest multicultural design isn’t a checklist. It’s a point of view. Instead of “Asian-inspired” or “European-inspired,” think:
“What do I love, and why?” That’s where authenticity lives.

2) Let architecture be the anchor

When you start with the building itself, you avoid forcing a vibe that doesn’t fit. Architecture gives you structure; your story supplies the color.

3) Collect meaning, not just objects

A beautiful home isn’t the one with the most expensive piecesit’s the one where the objects make sense for the people living there. Heirlooms,
art, and travel finds aren’t clutter when they’re curated with intention.

4) Joy belongs in “serious” design

Davis’s work repeatedly circles back to playfulness. It’s a reminder that grown-up taste doesn’t have to be beige. (Beige is fine. But beige isn’t a
personality.)

Extra Experiences: What a Multicultural Upbringing Can Add to Creative Work (About )

Multicultural upbringing doesn’t come with a single blueprintsome people grow up switching countries, others switch languages at the dinner table,
and some simply learn that “normal” depends on which relative is visiting. But certain experiences show up again and again, and they help explain why
designers like Jessica Davis often build spaces that feel unusually human.

One common experience is learning to live with contradictions. Maybe the house rules were strict, but the family gatherings were loud and joyful.
Maybe you grew up eating two totally different cuisines, celebrating different holidays, or hearing different ideas about what “good taste” looks like.
Over time, your brain stops panicking when things don’t match. You learn that harmony isn’t samenessit’s balance. In design, that becomes comfort with
mixing: traditional shapes next to modern art, heirlooms next to clean-lined furniture, color next to quiet.

Another experience is hyper-awareness of context. When you’re the “new kid” in a communityor the only one who looks like youyou get good at reading
signals. You notice the tiny things: how people host, what makes guests feel welcome, what feels intimidating, what feels warm. In a design career, that
sensitivity can translate into excellent client work. You’re not just picking pretty finishes; you’re building emotional safety. You’re asking,
“How do you want this home to feel when you walk in after a hard day?” and “What parts of your life deserve a spotlight?”

Multicultural households also tend to produce a deep relationship with objects. Sometimes it’s practicalyour family moved, so the things you kept had
to matter. Sometimes it’s emotionalcertain dishes, textiles, or artworks connect you to people and places that aren’t close by anymore. That’s why the
“collected” home resonates: it reflects real life. A bowl from a grandparent, a painting bought on a trip, a weird little souvenir you love for no
logical reasonthese pieces become anchors. They’re also fantastic design tools, because they bring narrative into the room without trying too hard.

Finally, multicultural experiences often create a hunger for belonging. Not the performative kind (“Look at my perfectly styled shelf!”) but the deep
kind: a home that holds you. That hunger can drive designers to build spaces that are less about impressing strangers and more about serving the people
who live there. It’s why “design shouldn’t be too precious” hits home. Life is already complicated; your home shouldn’t punish you for existing in it.
If a space can carry multiple histories, multiple aesthetics, and multiple versions of youand still feel cohesivethen it’s doing what home is meant to do:
making room for the whole story.

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