To mark our first collaboration, Maddux Creative and Maison Lily Blue have come together to design a screen that embodies this shared vision: thoughtful, tactile, and deeply architectural. The Maddux x Maison Lily Blue Arched Screen unites Lily-Blue’s sculptural craftsmanship with our bespoke textile. The result is a statement piece of subtle drama—floating ash panels and woven fabric that shifts beautifully with the light.

Lily-Blue’s approach to design is instinctive yet exacting—rooted in form, but always with feeling. We spoke with her about inspiration, intention, and the quiet strength of objects that speak for themselves.

HOW DID YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH DESIGN FIRST BEGIN?

As far back as I can remember, I was drawn to the touch and atmosphere of objects—the feelings they held. My father was a painter and bronze sculptor, working from a small London studio. I vividly recall the scent of oil paint—it still transports me back in an instant. That sensory world made a deep impression. I wasn’t conscious of it at the time, but design, for me, began with instinct and memory.

WAS THERE A MOMENT, PLACE, OR INFLUENCE THAT FIRST SPARKED YOUR CREATIVE INSTINCTS?

My creative outlet has evolved. I studied Art and Arts Management at university, but for a long time I wasn’t actively ‘making’ with a career in fashion. It’s only later, with more space and clarity, that I gave myself permission to return to creativity not just as a mindset, but as a daily practice. That shift was quiet but profound.

IF YOU HADN’T FOLLOWED THIS PATH, WHAT DO YOU IMAGINE YOU’D BE DOING TODAY?

I’d love to say a shoe designer! But honestly, I think this is exactly where I was meant to be. Life has a funny way of guiding us back to our centre, even if the path isn’t always linear.

IS THERE A DESIGNER—PAST OR PRESENT—WHOSE WORK CONTINUES TO GUIDE OR INSPIRE YOU?

Peter Hone has long fascinated me—not so much as a maker, but as a custodian of classical beauty. His collection of plaster casts isn’t just decorative; it’s an archive of form, time, and gesture. There’s something deeply moving in the way he preserves history through objects, allowing us to see fragments as whole stories.

I’m a big fan of artist Tomo Campbell. I love his figurative, almost Rococo style—there’s a looseness to it that feels totally his. His palette is always just off in the most brilliant way—unexpected tones that somehow sit together perfectly. It’s romantic, but never obvious.

WHAT DOES LUXURY MEAN TO YOU—BEYOND THE VISUAL OR MATERIAL?

Quite simply, it’s how something feels. True luxury invites interaction. It’s in the texture, the craftsmanship, the story. For me, it’s about time and care—objects made slowly and with meaning. I live with very few things, but each one has presence. That same intentionality runs through every piece I create.

HOW DO YOU NAVIGATE THE SPACE BETWEEN TRADITION AND INNOVATION IN YOUR WORK?

My screens are made using traditional techniques—woodwork, upholstery, hand-finishing—but the forms and fabrics are contemporary, even architectural. I always return to balance: structure with softness, simplicity with spirit. It’s in that middle space that my work comes to life.

HAS A PLACE—A CITY, SETTING, OR JOURNEY—PROFOUNDLY SHAPED YOUR CREATIVE OUTLOOK?

Gibraltar, Europe’s southern tip is my home from home. It’s where I feel most at ease—powered by the sun, of course, but also by the sea. There’s a stillness and clarity that I rarely find elsewhere. That moment of suspension allowed space for something new to begin.

IS THERE A MATERIAL, TEXTURE, OR COLOUR YOU COME BACK TO TIME AND AGAIN?

Green. Always green. I never consciously choose it, yet somehow it finds its way back into everything I do. It’s a grounding colour—quietly alive, endlessly nuanced. It makes me feel rooted and open all at once.

WHERE DO YOU TURN WHEN YOU NEED TO REFUEL CREATIVELY?

We spend time between the Loire Valley—where my husband is from, and where I’m always château-spotting, obsessed with the tuffeau stone and that crumbling grandeur—and Andalusia, with its whitewashed villages and weathered hillsides. There’s something about both landscapes that loosens the mind.

And when I can’t travel, it’s antique shopping. Without question. The beauty of old objects—their imperfection, their patina—it always sparks something.

MAISON LILY BLUE SCREENS ARE HIGHLY SCULPTURAL—HOW DO YOU WANT PEOPLE TO FEEL WHEN THEY LIVE WITH ONE?

A screen is inherently interactive. It asks you to move with it—to open or close, to soften a space or divide it. I want mine to be touched, lived with, rearranged over time.

They offer gentle structure but never rigidity. I hope people feel quietly held by them—that they bring rhythm and calm to a room. To me, a screen is a transition. Between spaces, between moments, between moods.