Structure and Order

When space becomes a reflection of the soul and functionality intertwines with aesthetics, something greater than mere interior design is born. Alexander Kozlov, founder of AK Interiors, creates living environments for those accustomed to thinking on a grand scale and living beautifully. His philosophy is straightforward: every project should be crafted as if he were designing it for himself.

Recently, I stood at the heart of a construction site in Four Seasons Private Residences Dubai. Workers bustled around me, laying marble according to my specifications. In that moment, I reflected that my thrice-weekly visits weren't due to a lack of trust in contractors, but rather the knowledge that in our field, the right to err comes at too steep a price. When working with premium materials and budgets that forgive no mistakes, every detail must be precise to the millimetre.

We specialise in three areas: architecture, interior architecture and renovation. It sounds simple, but behind these words lie projects from London to Monaco and from Cyprus to Dubai. We design private residences, boutique hotels, and small exclusive residential complexes. If a client comes with a plot of land, we create an architectural concept from scratch. If they already have a flat or penthouse, we work within the existing space. And when we're dealing with a historical building, the most fascinating work begins — restoration that preserves the spirit of the place.

At university, I studied architecture at the Moscow Architectural Institute, followed by two years of interior design at KLC in London. It was there I understood how skilfully the British integrate contemporary architecture into historical settings. In London, you step out of university to see modern buildings already becoming architectural monuments. In Russia, unfortunately, students still learn from textbooks rather than practising professionals. Moscow Architectural Institute graduates think architecture is solely about grand cathedrals, failing to realise their education enables them to design bridges, dams, and modern buildings.

After university, I worked at Vozrozhdenie — then a top-tier company in classical interiors. I was drawn to their collaboration with English material manufacturers, architects, and decorators. The Russian business landscape centres on the principal figure. Nobody wants to speak with commercial directors or lead project architects — only with the founder. One must personally fly to all project locations, meet clients, and handle many issues directly. When I realised further growth at the company was impossible, and other Moscow firms wouldn't offer comparable conditions, I had to establish my own business.

I felt no fear, I'd already spent three years managing all aspects of projects: finances, budgets, deliveries, customs. I simply transferred to a different legal entity. During my final months at Vozrozhdenie, two potential clients approached me directly through contractors and acquaintances. I don't recall feeling euphoric; I simply understood there was no alternative. By then, I had met Nastya, my future wife, who had also studied in London. Our interests and expenses were growing, and finding a position with similar compensation at comparable Moscow companies was impossible.
We chose the company name after analysing the Western market. All successful architects and designers name companies after themselves — from Zaha Hadid to Philippe Starck. Thus, AK Interiors (Alexander Kozlov Interiors) was born. From the outset, I knew I wanted Condé Nast to be my primary publication outlet, not just Russian glossies. This ambition materialised: our projects appear in AD France, Elle Decoration, Vogue Living and other leading publications.

The company's philosophy is founded on combining strong interior architecture with aesthetics, contemporary art and collectible design. We don't merely decorate spaces beautifully — we extract the maximum from planning solutions. Where people live, launder, feed pets, bathe children, all these practical elements are meticulously considered. Many designers excel at decoration but falter in architecture. Others work splendidly with standard projects but cannot create aesthetic appeal. We've chosen the challenging path of combining both directions.

At a certain point, I realised I couldn't freely travel to all our sites; we already had projects in Cyprus, England, and France. Fortunately, whilst studying, we'd made many friends among Dubai residents. We spent every New Year in Dubai with them. In February, we immediately flew to Dubai and, through assistants, purchased a ready-made company with open accounts; we transferred ownership, obtained residency visas and cards. By September, I was still in France. By October, in time for the school year, we relocated as a family.

Currently, we have three projects in Dubai. We're developing residences in Four Seasons Private Residences: primarily penthouses and large apartments for Russian investors. These individuals share our aesthetic sensibilities and enjoy long-term investments in construction, art pieces. They relish completely gutting and rebuilding according to their own layout preferences, with their own bathrooms, in a style distinct from typical Dubai glitz. Cost is immaterial to them; they simply wish to live as comfortably as they desire.

We work closely with HH Development; they initially constructed these properties. Our communication began with obtaining permits for redesigns. Now we're discussing joint projects. I explained to them: "Chaps, we're redesigning half your building, let's collaborate in future, from the very beginning."

Another intriguing project is on Bulgari Island. A client purchased a plot of land where we're implementing our own architecture. It will be a large villa designed by us with our interiors. This represents a new experience for us specifically in Dubai, creating an object from scratch.

Working in Dubai is easier for me than in Moscow. They employ a British system of step-by-step approval, obtaining permissions, commissioning, managing construction sites is clearly regulated. When there's order, I relax. No one will implement unapproved decisions or demolish walls that mustn't be touched. They always demand documents, licences—and that's splendid. Many complain about bureaucracy, saying every sofa requires eight permits. But imagine 30 people on a construction site without any regulations, that's catastrophic. Structure and order save us from chaos, which creative work already has in abundance.

We're selective with contractors. We entrust rough work to locals: they excel at mixing concrete and installing plasterboard. But when it comes to expensive materials — linen, silk for walls, marble — we seek specialists. We look at who has done similar work in Dubai and assemble teams for each type of job. We explain to local general contractors straightaway: "Chaps, we'll be working with various specialists — one group for marble, another for woodwork." Budgets don't allow risking damaged materials.
Our representative is constantly on-site — monitoring the process to catch mistakes at the earliest stage. It's one thing to redo plasterboard, quite another to ruin expensive marble or wall coverings. Over two years, we've trained locals to work to our standards. The first project in Four Seasons was built with them from scratch — we "pushed" them so effectively that we retained them for the second property. Purely for budgetary reasons we cannot afford damaged materials for ourselves or clients.
All joinery production is done locally. In Dubai, we work with Atis and another English company. We come with our own drawings, specifying doors, brass, handles. Built-in solutions and repeated measurements are important to avoid fillers and adjustments. When something is glued or inserted as a workaround, the quality immediately diminishes. The client might not see it, but they sense these details.

Marble is also processed locally. Currently, we're working with Atis's stone division. If local selection doesn't satisfy us — for instance, Dubai imports less pure varieties — we order material in slabs from Italians, while locals cut and install according to our dimensions.

We import technical lighting, built-in engineering solutions, ventilation grilles, parquet, and carpeting for our projects. I particularly fancy ventilation systems where technical lighting and airflow are integrated in a single profile. The ceiling remains clean, without numerous additional elements. We work with an American company that has a Dubai office.

Smart home systems constantly evolve. Previously, everything was controlled via buttons or iPads; now lighting scenarios are convenient. On yachts, there are only three: night, day, bathroom. In homes, we create more, adapting to each client. For smart home systems, we work with Russian speakers; during client meetings, fine-tuning is important, and technical specifications are more easily discussed in one's native language.

We operate with an open budget system showing clients the genuine cost of everything. There are no stories involving transfers, cash, hidden commissions. When someone receives a million-rouble invoice for an item, we show them: it costs 700,000, plus customs, delivery, and the architect's percentage. Then it's clear: the item truly costs 700, not 300 with mysterious markups. Consequently, no one claims we're excessively expensive. If an item costs €50,000 — here's the gallery, here's the price, nothing fabricated.

We don't work with Italian brands on commission: Poliform, Boffi and others. When tied to factories, you're constrained by their range. All Boffi kitchens resemble each other, as do all Poliform wardrobes. Consequently, ten projects would appear identical. People are different, spaces too — one can't use a single tool for everything. Many do this for money, but we earn differently.
Clients don't question aesthetics and design, but all negotiations concern functionality. What goes where, where to walk, where to store, how to retrieve, where to wash. We discuss these for hours. Afterwards, they have no questions about aesthetics; they say, "Here, you decide." We work hard on functionality, but in return, we have carte blanche creatively.

Our clients travel extensively flying on private jets, spending summers on yachts. Everywhere they observe details but remember only functional aspects. One client described the shower at Aman New York — metal threads in glass prevent water droplets from being visible after showering. That was the only thing she remembered from a hotel considered the bible of interior design. I said, "You were at Aman New York — that's an icon of hotel design, yet you only remembered the shower?" But that's how people function. They don't notice architectural refinements over which the finest minds laboured. Instead, they remember how comfortably they could rise from a yacht's sofa because the seat height perfectly suited their height. This must be taken into account.

My favourite recent project was a collector's office in Monaco. I became the first Russian architect at that time whose work was published in AD France. It involved restoring a historical building from 1856 in central Monaco. We obtained all permits to reconstruct an entire floor. The most challenging aspect was reconciling the historical foundation with contemporary solutions while preserving Monaco's distinctive style. It's unlike French or Art Deco; they have their own vibe in everything: clothing, interiors, lifestyle. Although France is literally across the road.

It mattered to me that the project seamlessly integrated into Monaco's environment. That it shouldn't feel like something created by a Russian chap or just another trendy interior. For the photoshoot, we invited French photographer Alice; she works with special filters that enhance the sense of place. The result exceeded expectations — the project was featured in the magazine.
Now, working on a collection of Armani interiors, I open Pinterest and see my own publications among the works — stylistically, we're closely aligned. This is especially valuable considering Armani created interiors for himself, not clients.

In Dubai, we always include entrance cloakrooms, however small. Many laugh, saying they're unnecessary in a hot climate. But we live here and understand: only tourists walk about in shorts and vests. We constantly wear shirts, blazers, something thrown over because of air conditioning. An entrance cloakroom isn't about climate, but lifestyle.

Execution quality is a tender spot everywhere, not just Dubai. The issue is that no one builds to our accustomed standards. On one hand, this is problematic: our clients obsess over every little seam, missing the overall beauty. A person might have a Picasso hanging but cannot admire it because they're distracted and irritated by a seam in marble tiling. There's no time to live beautifully when something constantly vexes you.

All successful foreign projects involve Russian speakers on the team, not necessarily from Moscow. They might be people from Ukraine, Belarus, the Baltic States. Many of our countrymen are in France. If the construction team includes at least one Eastern European who understands our quality standards, numerous problems are resolved.

Working with luxury materials, we follow fashion principles. All materials are natural, then comes the search for new colour solutions, texture mixing, collectible design. As in haute couture boutiques, our projects involve constantly seeking novelty within eternal values.

We order windows from Sky-Frame: Swiss profiles, nothing leaks. But leakage problems in Dubai aren't related to windows, but rather the absence of proper waterproofing and quality floor slabs. This is a systemic problem in local construction.
We work with clients for three years: project, construction, finalisation. During this time, you learn everything: doctors, children, dogs, personal issues. You live their life, understanding what to expect. These people are simultaneously maximally open and closed. They take a very long time to calm down; if something gets stuck in their head, they might remember it for years. Therefore, we try to keep them away from construction problems. Let them visit the site less frequently, interact less with builders. We absorb all negativity ourselves.

When I evaluate any decision, mine, employees', builders', I view it through the prism: would I do this for myself? If I understand it's functional, honest, professional, and I would choose precisely this solution for my own home, I approve it. If doubts arise about colour, texture, execution quality, I'll never sign off. Losing a client's trust is more frightening than any financial loss.
Only two Dubai hotel properties interest me. The Lana hotel, because it was designed by Gilles & Boissier, who outfit all Moncler boutiques. And Opus, designed by Zaha Hadid. These are works by people in my professional circle, offering something to evaluate, solutions to discuss. I don't discuss Royal Atlantis, I enter and exit. It's a different level, a different philosophy.
When visiting friends' flats, I switch off my professional component. If I know serious professionals were involved — it's interesting to look, I might comment that something is cleverly conceived. Even when clients are dissatisfied, I side with architects, because I see the logic behind decisions.

We continue to develop, seeking new solutions. Architecture and design are like fashion: constant forward movement while preserving fundamental values. Beauty, functionality, honesty — these are the three pillars upon which AK Interiors stands. And as long as people are willing to pay for genuine quality, for an individualised approach, for homes that are extensions of themselves, we will create spaces for them. Spaces in which I myself would wish to live.