In the heart of a bustling city, LAU — the flagship showroom of the eponymous furniture brand — has opened its doors. But it speaks differently. It doesn’t shout about design. It doesn’t seek to impress at first glance. It invites you to pause. To listen. This is a space that begins to speak when you fall silent.
Project Name: LAU
Studio Name: Raimer Büro
Location: Russia, Vladimir
Square: 46 sq.m.
Completion: 2025
Photo: Dmitry Suvorov
A harmony of forms, a symmetrical composition, and a muted rhythm of light and material come together to create not just an interior — but a stage for silence. Glass façades allow LAU to be seen from afar. The interior volume forms a singular silhouette. Its external restraint becomes an invitation to internal attentiveness. Here, form doesn’t demand attention — it waits patiently for yours to arrive. The concept of the project is an attempt to transcend conventional expectations of what a furniture showroom should be.
The 46-square-meter space was designed not around function, but around a state of being. We broke the typological link between display kitchen and commerce. This is not a space that serves the product — it initiates a dialogue between person and place. The layout is structured along a strict central axis, forming a disciplined symmetry. The architecture uses theatrical tools — light dramaturgy, mass density, geometric intrigue — to create not an exposition, but a stage of stillness.
The color palette is built on two saturated symbols: orange and black. This pair is not decorative, but a poetic structure of space. Orange is inner light, life force, warmth directed toward the horizon. Black is not emptiness, but depth — an infinity in which essence reverberates. Together, they create contrast, not conflict. It’s a dialogue: breath and heartbeat, calm and impulse.
The inspiration came from Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea. As in the book, everything here is simple — and within that simplicity lies depth.
This interior is the outcome of a long and precise dialogue — between architects and the brand, between humans and materials. Every detail is the result of multiple iterations: factory visits, experiments, rejections, and discoveries. The philosophy of the project is rooted in honesty. The space must be alive — not fixed, but responsive: to light, to time of day, and most importantly, to human presence.
At the very center of the room lies a monolithic island. It is function, meeting zone, and sculpture at once. Crafted from natural stone, it does not conceal its materiality. Its geometry is complex yet balanced. Two volumes meet at an angle, joined by a diagonal tabletop. Against a backdrop of soft, tactile surfaces, it reads as structure.
The square bar, made of poplar, is more than an object. It is the heart. A structural knot.
Open shelving introduces a sense of architectural rhythm. It dissolves the perception of flat walls, adding a third dimension to the visual experience.
The bar is intentionally open — and this is its strength. It hides no processes. On the contrary: preparation rituals and designer–guest interactions become part of the narrative.
It is a production ritual elevated to the level of architectural gesture. On either side of the showroom, display zones and a material shelf follow strict order — no visual noise, no chaos. Only rhythm and logic.
