In Bed With: Jonathon Burford

Welcome to In Bed With, a series that explores the rituals of rest that inspire us to find moments of ease. We recently spent a sunny morning with multidisciplinary designer and creative director Jonathon Burford in their LA home. Jonathon's creative process is grounded in systems rather than just aesthetics alone, allowing them to create pieces that are as imaginative as they are practical. This approach is evident in everything from their original artworks to the design of their home. Fueled by constant output, Jonathon admits that they find it difficult to switch off, but shares how they find rhythm in repetition and embrace imperfection along the way.

Can you walk us through your journey to what you do today?

I’ve always approached creativity through systems, not just aesthetics. I started making original work—art, concepts, visuals—but quickly became more interested in how those ideas live in the world and across consumer touchpoints. That led me into creative direction, where I could connect the full picture: product, content, campaigns, and the business behind them. Over time, I’ve built a practice that focuses on aligning creative with structure – so brand campaigns don’t just look good, they actually perform, engage community and scale.

How have your early life experiences or surroundings shaped your perspective and creative voice?

Growing up with immigrant parents, there was always a strong emphasis on practicality and forward momentum. That shaped how I think about creativity. It needs to be intentional, useful, and grounded in reality. You can be an artist, but you also have to pay your bills.

From making original artworks to creative directing, how does your creative process begin?

They’re very different starting points. With creative direction, I’m solving a problem—whether that’s building a consumer base, strengthening a brand’s positioning, or creating a campaign that actually drives engagement and EMV. I usually start by looking at existing consumer behavior or a cultural moment that’s already happening, then build a concept around that. From there, it’s about aligning everything—product, messaging, and visuals—into a cohesive system that feels both relevant and ownable.

With my personal work, it’s much more instinctive and self-contained. I’m not thinking about performance or outcomes. Lately I’ve been painting scenes that feel very quintessentially LA—things that are familiar but slightly exaggerated. And with ceramics, I tend to repeat the same forms: cigarette sculptures, and vases or planters with faces, often upside down. There’s something about that repetition that feels grounding—it becomes less about the result and more about the process itself.

What places, moods, eras, or other source materials are inspiring you right now?

Obscure vintage books from the 90s, there are so many good ones around interiors, DIYs and just strange photo books that I can’t believe were published. I’m kind of over souring references online, it seems like everyone is working from the same visuals. But with books, especially the ones that are out of print there are images I’ve never seen before.

How has your neighborhood/the city of LA influenced the tone you set for your home?

LA has this very specific tension I’m drawn to—it’s both highly curated and completely unpolished at the same time. You have incredible architecture sitting next to strip malls, vintage cars parked in front of modern homes, palm trees against concrete. That contrast definitely informs how I think about our space. I don’t want it to feel overly designed or precious. It should feel relaxed, a little unexpected, and very lived-in.

What part of your home feels most reflective of your personality?

My office. It’s the one room where there’s no edit. Jesse basically gave me full control, so it’s where all the weirder instincts land—the giant foot chair, bugs in acrylic blocks, things that feel a little obsessive or slightly off. It doesn’t try to match the rest of the house or resolve into anything. It’s just a collection of things I’m drawn to, all in one place. That’s probably the most accurate version of how I think.

What advice do you have for someone who is designing a home with their partner?

Treat it less like a negotiation and more like building something new together. I think people get stuck trying to merge two existing aesthetics, which usually doesn’t work. It’s better to define a shared point of view and build from there. Also, not everything needs to be decided at once. The best spaces evolve over time—leave room for things to come in naturally.

What details do you think make a space feel truly personal?

Objects collected over time, things that maybe don’t perfectly match, pieces that have a specific reference or memory attached to them. Even small details—like how books are stacked, or a slightly off arrangement of objects—can make a space feel like it belongs to someone. Perfection is usually what makes a space feel generic.

Are there any rituals or small habits you’ve come to rely on to reset or unwind?

Repetition, mostly. I’ll clean, reorganize, move things around, or make the same objects over and over—ceramics especially. There’s something about doing a simple action repeatedly that resets how I’m thinking. It’s less about fully unplugging and more about recalibrating.

What does rest look like for you these days?

I’m honestly not very good at it. I’m pretty addicted to making things, so the idea of fully switching off doesn’t come naturally. Sitting on a beach, watching TV for hours, scrolling—those things that feel relaxing to most people actually make me restless. My version of rest is usually just lower-stakes output. Something repetitive, a little mindless, where I’m still making but not trying to solve anything or prove anything. That’s about as close as I get to slowing down.