Sustainability Takes Root in Modern Interior Design

At Hommali, a Thai restaurant in Lagos, guests walk on hand-fired terracotta tiles from Agege. The uneven yet inviting surface anchors the minimalist interior. "Terracotta is beautiful because it tells a story," says architect Eniola Ogunlewe. "It’s also durable, breathable, and doesn’t require harmful sealants." Ogunlewe, trained in London, collaborated with local craftsman Bashiru Alade to create the tiles. Each piece bears natural variations, which Ogunlewe describes as "a testimony to its honesty."

Sustainable practices are reshaping modern interior design in Lagos. Materials with low environmental impact, such as reclaimed timber and bamboo, are increasingly used. While cities like Copenhagen have embraced eco-conscious interiors, Lagos is emerging as a vital participant. Ogunlewe emphasizes that accessibility is crucial: "Sustainability can’t be a luxury. If the materials we need are priced out of reach, the design conversation becomes exclusionary."

Hommali is not alone. The boutique hotel Oríkì Retreat in Ikoyi features reclaimed wood furnishings made from felled mango trees. "Most of these trees had to be removed for urban development," explains Olumide Adeshina, the project’s design head. "Instead of discarding them, we worked with sawmills in Ogun State to process the wood into planks." The retreat’s tables and light fixtures carry the warmth of mango timber, creating what Adeshina calls "grounded luxury." Yet, he admits, logistical challenges persist. "Transporting and processing the wood sustainably is not easy. But if we’re serious about the planet, those barriers have to be secondary."

This movement aligns with trends at major design fairs. The 2023 Milan Design Week showcased the "Circular Living" pavilion, featuring furniture made from agricultural by-products. A report by the Ellen MacArthur Foundation highlights that adopting circular design principles could significantly reduce the environmental footprint of interiors.

In Lagos, the conversation often reflects local sourcing realities. While reclaimed materials are prominent in projects like Hommali and Oríkì, architects face challenges in finding suppliers who meet both aesthetic and sustainability goals. Ogunlewe states, "We don’t have the same infrastructure as Europe or North America. So innovation often means working directly with artisans." The Agege workshop producing Hommali’s tiles typically creates roofing materials. Alade adapted his kilns to fire floor tiles, experimenting with clay mixtures for durability.

These practices are not without contradictions. Ogunlewe notes that many eco-friendly materials still require international importation. Bamboo, popular for its renewability, is often shipped from Southeast Asia, offsetting some environmental gains. "You’ll see bamboo furniture in high-end homes here in Lagos," she notes. Adeshina agrees: "For sustainability to work, the supply chain has to be localized. It’s the only way to make these innovations scalable."

Educational initiatives may offer part of the solution. The African Contemporary Design Academy (ACDA) in Yaba runs workshops on sustainable materials. Co-founder Tade Aremu states, "Knowledge is the first hurdle. Once people see that these methods are viable, the cultural shift will follow."

However, this cultural shift is still evolving. In Lagos, budget constraints often drive decisions, limiting room for experimentation. Ogunlewe shares that clients sometimes choose conventional materials after balking at the higher costs of sustainable options. "It’s frustrating, but it’s also an opportunity," she says. "The more we integrate these practices into mainstream projects, the more affordable and normalized they’ll become."

As Hommali’s terracotta floorboards witness diners’ footsteps, they symbolize a broader movement that seeks to reconcile design with ecological responsibility. Ogunlewe hopes for momentum in this movement. "Good design takes time," she says. "And so does building a better relationship with the planet."