Maximalism, minus the mayhem

The Drawing Studio gives a colour-loving couple's Mumbai apartment plenty of room for every find

29 Oct 2026

On Worli Sea Face, where the uninhibited sea breeze sets the pace for most mornings, a young couple finds themselves settling into their first home with a growing collection of art and textiles, and a baby on the way. For their 2,000 sq ft apartment in Mumbai, they entrusted Deepshikha Jaiswal, principal architect of The Drawing Studio, to design their spaces across three bedrooms, a kitchen, a living and dining area and a media room that doubles up as a den. The brief is generous and a little daunting: make room for everything they love, and then some.

"There was a clear desire for the house to be the antithesis of minimalism"

Deepshikha Jaiswal

A mustard sofa sits against an open timber library screen, with sculptural coffee tables, a ceramic vase of alliums and a woven rug grounding the room; Photography by Saurabh Suryan

A love letter to more

From the very first meeting, the couple is clear about one thing. “There was a clear desire for the house to be the antithesis of minimalism,” Deepshikha recalls. Their references read like a passport full of stamps: the saturated hues of Sri Lanka, the bold, graphic patterns of tribal Indian craft and the earthy palette of the natural world. She reads them loosely, as a mood, so the home can keep absorbing new finds without losing its thread. The real puzzle, though, lies elsewhere. “The challenge was not to create abundance, but to give abundance order,” she says.

The bar pairs a cabinet with metal fronts and slim shelves with a trio of framed artworks, sheer curtains softening the light beside it; Photography by Saurabh Suryan

Through a wooden doorway, timber coffee tables shaped like pebbles lead the eye past the dining nook to the den behind glass; Photography by Saurabh Suryan

Comfort, then beauty

A baby on the way rearranges priorities, and the design follows suit. “As an architect, I often find myself instinctively looking for beauty first and intelligence second,” Deepshikha admits. “Here, that order had to change.” The result is a house built to take spilt milk, afternoon naps and impromptu guests in its stride. She calls its language warm modernism: clean, disciplined lines paired with things that invite touch, from timber and linen to handmade ceramics and a woven rug that softens every footstep.

A timber desk tucks beneath the den's window, flanked by a deep red chair, striped seating and a glowing cube lamp; Photography by Saurabh Suryan

Timber panelling, slim black shelves and fluted glass wrap the den, where striped upholstery and yellow lilies make the case for staying in; Photography by Saurabh Suryan

Rooms that talk to each other

Timber and glass do most of the talking in the shared spaces. Clear partitions edged in wood keep the den, living and dining areas within sight of each other, while an open library screen gives the mustard sofa a backdrop without boxing it in. Beyond it, deep red chairs gather around the dining table beneath a glowing fabric pendant, and a bar clad in patinated metal sits by the window, waiting for evening. The architecture holds its lines straight and steady, letting round tables, sculptural vases and nubby upholstery supply the curves. “The house is not trying to make everything belong to one visual language,” she explains. It is all the better for that.

A vivid tribal folk painting hangs above the timber headboard, with a floating bedside shelf and the en suite visible beyond; Photography by Saurabh Suryan

A checked bed and striped rug complete with neutral-toned furniture keep the guest bedroom calm, while a tribal folk painting adds a burst of red; Photography by Saurabh Suryan

The den and beyond

Her favourite corner is the den; small, wrapped in timber and dressed in bold stripes. A desk tucks beneath its window, a few books rest on slim black shelves and the living room stays in view through fluted and clear glass. “Somehow, all the different elements found their place here without feeling forced,” says Deepshikha. Few rooms make a better case for staying in.

The bedrooms lower the volume. In the guest room, a tribal folk painting supplies a jolt of red above a checked bed, while the main bedroom keeps to white linen, mustard cushions and a round porthole of fluted glass. “The architecture was not conceived to be looked at first. It was conceived to be lived in,” Deepshikha says. Soon, the smallest member of the family will put that promise to the test, sticky fingers and all. The house seems more than ready.

A porthole of fluted glass, framed in timber, watches over the main bedroom, where white linens meet mustard cushions and a sketch rests on the bedside shelf; Photography by Saurabh Suryan