A Life-Changing Diagnosis
I never imagined that at the height of my career, I would be sitting in a cold medical office hearing the word cancer. One ordinary afternoon, a doctor’s diagnosis shook the foundations of my world. In that instant, the trappings of success—the bespoke suits, the glossy magazine spreads of my work in luxury home design—faded into the background. I was faced with my mortality, forced to confront the possibility that my time might be cut short. The drive home that day was a blur; my mind was drowning in a whirlpool of fear and disbelief, asking why me and what have I been doing with my life?
The days and weeks that followed were some of the darkest in my life. As I underwent scans and treatments, I found myself in sterile hospital rooms with plenty of time to think. Lying in a hospital bed at 3 AM, attached to an IV drip, I stared at the ceiling and felt a profound emptiness beyond the physical. I realized I had been living on autopilot, chasing professional accolades and client approvals without ever asking myself a fundamental question. In the quiet of those nights, with mortality staring me down, that question rang louder than ever.
“Apa erti kita hidup?” – What Is the Meaning of Life?
Apa erti kita hidup? “What is the meaning of our life?” This question became the drumbeat of my existence as I fought through chemotherapy and contemplated the uncertain road ahead. I recall repeating the phrase to myself in Malay—my mother tongue—because it felt more visceral, more real that way. What was the meaning of life, my life? I had spent years designing beautiful houses for wealthy clients, crafting spaces of luxury and style. But lying there, weakened and bald from treatment, the accolades and aesthetics felt hollow. If I were to die, what legacy would I leave behind? A portfolio of pretty rooms? Would anyone remember why I poured my heart into those designs?
I began to reflect deeply on every facet of my life. I thought about my family—how often had I dined with them in the kitchen I renovated for my own home, versus how often I worked late perfecting someone else’s kitchen design? I thought about the young designers I mentored—what had I really taught them, beyond selecting cushions and fixtures? Every night, apa erti kita hidup? echoed in my head, demanding an answer. I realized I craved a sense of purpose beyond just surviving cancer. I promised that if I survived, I would live—and work—more intentionally. My actions, both personal and professional, had to answer that question of life’s meaning. And if they didn’t, then I would have to change course.
Slowly, an understanding dawned on me. Perhaps the meaning of life wasn’t one grand solution but a collection of small, meaningful moments and contributions. It was the comfort of a home-cooked meal with loved ones, the quiet pride of making a positive difference in someone else’s life, the peace of knowing that your existence, in some way, nourished others and yourself. In the past, I had been so focused on the surface of life—like the perfect surface of a marble countertop—that I neglected the substance underneath. Facing death taught me that meaning has to be at the core of everything we do. For me, that meant rethinking the very way I approached my work in interior design. I realized that my profession could no longer be just about creating beautiful spaces; it had to be about creating meaningful experiences and environments for those who live in them.
From Luxury Home Design to Meaningful Interior Design
When I was healthy and busy, I defined success by high-end projects and delighted clients. I moved in the world of luxury home design, crafting penthouse living rooms with Italian marble and resort-style bathrooms with gold fixtures.
It was fulfilling in one sense—I genuinely love art and beauty—but after my brush with mortality, I found myself asking: What value do these designs really add to my clients’ lives? Yes, they provided comfort and status, but were they helping anyone live better or more meaningfully? I realized that a house could be gorgeous and yet lack a soul. I didn’t want to create lifeless showrooms anymore. I wanted to infuse meaning into every corner, to practice meaningful interior design that goes beyond aesthetics.
During my treatment, when I was too weak to work for others, I turned inward and quite literally to my own home. Surrounded by uncertainty, I craved a space that could give me strength. So I embarked on a very personal project—a personalized home renovation of my study room into a healing sanctuary. I painted the walls a calming color, filled the shelves only with books and objects that inspired hope, and placed a comfortable chair by the window where the morning light could warm me as I read or meditated. This small renovation was more than a design choice; it was therapy. As I recovered, that sunlit corner became my safe haven to journal my fears and dreams. I remember one morning, feeling particularly sick, I sat in that corner watching dawn break, and for the first time in a long time felt a spark of optimism. By tailoring my space to support my spirit, I discovered first-hand how environment profoundly affects well-being. It was a lesson I would carry forward.
I eventually regained my strength and returned to work, but I was not the same designer who left. Instead of jumping back into the old routine, I approached each new project with fresh eyes. I began by sitting down with clients and listening—truly listening—to their stories, their values, their struggles and joys. I found myself asking them the kinds of questions I had asked myself: What do you want to feel when you wake up in this room each day? What part of your life’s story do you want this home to tell? This was a stark contrast to my previous queries which revolved around style preferences or color schemes. I discovered that when I framed design in terms of meaning and emotion, clients opened up about their lives in ways I never expected. Some spoke of wanting a home where their children would grow up with a sense of security and wonder, others talked about needing a retreat from a stressful career, or a place to rekindle hobbies and dreams deferred.
I started to see my role not just as an interior designer, but as a kind of interpreter of personal stories. My job became translating a family’s values and aspirations into the language of design—into floor plans, light, textures, and furniture layouts. In essence, I was helping craft a narrative for their home. In the world of hospitality design, there’s a saying that every great hotel needs a story. I realized that every great home needs a story too—the homeowner’s story. I recalled a quote from one of my design heroes, Bill Bensley: “Narrative is everything to me… no project is complete without a real design DNA” . Those words resonated deeply now. I had long admired how Bensley’s hotel designs are immersive and full of storytelling, and I wanted to achieve the same depth in private residences. Armed with this philosophy, I began to design with intention. It was no longer enough that a living room was elegant; it also needed to evoke the emotions and values the family cherished—be it joy, tranquility, or inspiration.
One of the first projects I took on after my recovery was a sprawling bungalow for a young couple. In the past, I might have been preoccupied with making their home magazine-worthy, but this time I first sought to understand what home meant to them. I discovered that both husband and wife were avid readers who fell in love in a library in London.
This little detail sparked an idea: what if I could infuse the coziness of a library into their ultra-modern living room? Instead of a trendy feature wall that would wow visitors but mean nothing to them, we designed a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf filled with their beloved books collected from travels. We added two comfortable reading chairs by the window, creating a nook reminiscent of that library corner where their story began. The wood for the shelves was sourced from an old bookstore that had closed down, giving it a second life in this home. On installation day, when they saw that bookshelf and the reading nook bathed in afternoon light, the wife teared up. The husband told me later that for the first time, the house truly felt theirs. This wasn’t just interior design; it was interior storytelling. And that reinforced for me that this approach of designing for meaning was the path I would never stray from again.
A Home with Soul: The Birth of ERTI MAISON
My battle with illness and the epiphany that followed didn’t just change me; it sparked a movement in my professional life. I wanted to share this purpose-driven approach with the world and help more people live in homes that truly reflect their essence. That vision led to the birth of my design studio, ERTI MAISON. The name itself is deeply personal: erti means “meaning” in Malay, and maison is French for “home.” I chose this name to declare my mission outright—the meaning of home. ERTI MAISON would be a direct answer to the question “Apa erti kita hidup?” that had saved me; it would be my way of embedding meaning into the world, one home at a time.
From day one, I made sure ERTI MAISON’s design process was unlike the typical glamour-driven approach of other firms. Every project for us begins not with discussing the color of the curtains, but with discussing the values and purpose of the homeowner. We start with a blank canvas and a deep conversation. We ask questions like: What do you want your home to say about you? What activities or rituals in your daily life are most meaningful to you? The answers become our design brief as much as any architectural requirement. In essence, the client’s life philosophy becomes the “DNA” of the project. Our team then works to ensure that every element in the design serves that DNA.
I insist on this purpose-driven ethos in all aspects of our work. If a client is an art lover who finds meaning in creativity and history, we make their home a gallery of personal treasures, perhaps designing a feature wall to display their favorite paintings under perfect lighting. If another client values family above all, we’ll focus on creating expansive, inviting communal spaces—the kind of kitchen where everyone naturally gathers, or a courtyard where stories are shared under the stars. For a homeowner who seeks serenity and wellness (perhaps someone who, like me, has faced health challenges), we might design a personal sanctuary in their home—a meditation room with warm wood tones and soft light, or a spa-like bathroom that becomes a daily retreat for rejuvenation. Each design decision, from the grand layout down to the choice of a doorknob, is made with intention. The goal is that when the homeowner walks through their front door, they feel an immediate connection—a sense that “this is where I belong, this is me.”
Of course, we don’t ignore aesthetics or luxury—far from it. Our work still features high-end craftsmanship and the latest conveniences; the homes we design are often very luxurious in look and feel. The difference is that the luxury is not just for show, it’s there to serve a purpose. In one project, instead of importing expensive Italian marble just because it’s a status symbol, we sourced beautiful local stone for a client who wanted their home to celebrate Malaysian heritage. The result was both luxurious and meaningful—luxurious because of the stone’s natural beauty and craftsmanship, meaningful because it carried the story of our land.
In another home, we forewent a larger formal dining room (which the client rarely used) in favor of expanding an informal breakfast nook into a sun-kissed café corner, complete with a coffee machine and a small indoor herb garden. This was for a homeowner whose favorite part of the day was sipping coffee while tending to her plants. We turned her dream morning routine into an everyday reality through design.
In this way, ERTI MAISON embeds soul into luxury. It’s luxury redefined: not an ostentatious display, but a tailored experience of comfort and identity. I often tell my team that a home we design should feel like a living autobiography of the owner. Anyone walking in should subtly sense the values and passions of the dweller, whether it’s through the books on display, the photos framed, the colors chosen, or even the layout that perhaps encourages family togetherness or quiet reflection. We are not just creating pretty spaces; we are creating personal sanctuaries. The ultimate compliment for us is not when someone says “Oh, this living room is beautiful” but when the homeowner says “I feel at peace here” or “This home energizes me and reminds me of why I do what I do.” That’s when we know we’ve done our job right.
This philosophy hasn’t just resonated with our clients; it’s also changing the way our industry peers view design. At first, some colleagues looked at me funny when I talked about “designing with meaning” – it sounded a bit poetic for the practical world of floor plans and budgets. But as we completed project after project, the results spoke louder than any theory. Clients began to share how different they felt living in spaces we designed for them. We heard things like, “I actually use every room in my house now, nothing feels like a showpiece anymore,” or “Coming home now is like getting a warm hug; I never felt that in my old place even though it was stylish.” These testimonies started conversations among other designers and architects. I was invited to speak at a local design conference about purpose-driven design, and to my surprise, the hall was packed. It turned out I wasn’t the only designer who had felt something lacking in our field. Many young designers told me afterwards that they entered the profession wanting to improve lives, not just incomes, and my talk gave voice to that desire.
Embracing Sanctuary Living: Inspiring Homeowners and Designers
As my journey has shown, a home is far more than a collection of decor and furnishings. It’s our second skin, the environment that cradles us through life’s highs and lows. To homeowners reading this: I urge you to look beyond the marble countertops and designer light fixtures for a moment. Ask yourself what you truly want from your home. Do you seek peace? Inspiration? Joyous family chaos? Whatever it is, let that be the driving force of your design, not the pages of a catalog. True luxury is having a home tailored to you — a home that meets your needs on a deeper level than just shelter or status. This is the essence of sanctuary living: crafting your living space into a refuge that nurtures your body, mind, and spirit. In a world that often measures houses by their price per square foot, dare to measure yours by how it makes you feel each morning and night. A well-designed home should be like a favorite sweater – comforting, imbued with personal memories, and so authentically yours that you feel at ease the moment you put it on. Don’t be afraid to infuse your personality into your space; display the quirky art piece you love, design a reading corner if books make you happy, or paint an accent wall in that bold color that speaks to you. These choices are not just interior design – they are acts of self-expression and self-care. Your home can and should be a sanctuary that reflects and supports the life you want to live.
To my fellow designers and professionals in the industry: we have a remarkable opportunity, and I believe, a responsibility, to elevate our work beyond the pages of glossy magazines. We need to challenge the notion that our job is merely to deliver photogenic rooms. Instead, let’s strive to deliver meaningful experiences. This doesn’t mean forsaking style or beauty—quite the opposite. It means making beauty purposeful. We must remember that at the end of the day, it’s not us but the inhabitants who will live in these spaces. If a design wins awards but the homeowner doesn’t feel comfortable or connected to it, have we truly succeeded? Let’s push ourselves to design spaces with soul, not just style. Interview your clients about their life story, their passions, their routines. Be a detective of the heart as much as of the spatial plan. It’s amazing how much people open up when you care about their story. Use that as the blueprint, and then unleash your creativity to make it come alive in form, color, and texture.
I also encourage designers to find the courage to infuse your own values into your work. For me, sustainability and local craftsmanship have become important ever since I realized meaning also comes from being mindful of our impact. So ERTI MAISON often incorporates upcycled materials or local art, giving our projects an extra layer of significance—homes that tell not only the owners’ story, but also honor the community and environment. There is a profound intersection between sustainability and meaningful design: both are about respect—respect for the planet and respect for the personal narrative. By marrying the two, we create spaces that feel good and do good.
In embracing this approach, I have found that design can be healing and transformative. The meaning of life, for me, distilled into a clear purpose: to help others live more fully and authentically through the spaces they inhabit. My brush with cancer was a harsh teacher, but it taught me that we cannot take time for granted. Every moment, every decision should count for something. I’ve chosen to make my moments count by ensuring every home I design has a positive, enriching influence on its occupants. ERTI MAISON is not just a business to me; it’s a mission and a manifesto. It declares that a house becomes a home when it reflects your true self and supports your deepest well-being.
Looking back now, I am oddly thankful for the wake-up call that illness gave me. It stripped away the superficial and forced me to rebuild my life and work on a foundation of purpose. When I think of the question “Apa erti kita hidup?” today, I feel I am living my answer. Each time I hand over the keys of a finished project to the owners and see their eyes light up—truly light up with recognition and joy—I sense a bit of that elusive meaning of life revealing itself. It’s in the smile of a client who feels understood and at peace in their new space. It’s in the laughter of a family making memories in a home designed for their happiness. It’s in the quiet relief of someone who finds solace in a cozy corner we created just for them.
My journey has taught me that purpose-driven design can indeed change lives, starting with my own. I hope my story encourages you—whether you’re refurbishing a single room, building a dream house, or designing for others—to infuse a bit of soul into the process. Don’t just design a look; design a life. Create a space that answers your own personal “erti”, your own meaning. In doing so, you’ll turn mere walls and windows into a nurturing canvas for living, healing, and growing. After all, the ultimate luxury is a life lived with purpose and a home that supports and reflects that purpose. Here’s to homes with heart and spaces with soul, and to finding meaning where we live.
Seorang usahawan ID berpengalaman lebih 15 tahun dalam Industri Reka Bentuk Dalaman, beliau adalah Pengarah Urusan, penulis, dan penceramah yang telah mengasaskan kumpulan syarikatnya sendiri pada tahun 2009.
