Over a hundred trips through India and Asia, I've spent a good part of my life hunting for art, antiques, and natural pieces, the kind of objects that delight, inspire, and now and then stop you in your tracks. People ask me how I choose. The honest answer is that I choose what I love, and I've learned to trust that the rest follows.

Here is how I think about it, in case it's useful when you're choosing something for your own home.

Beauty and soul come first

Beauty and soul are the twin lights that guide me. When a piece draws me in, it's almost always one of those two doing the pulling. Everything else matters too: balance, craftsmanship, materials, condition. But all of it comes after. A piece can fall short in any one of those areas and still come home with me, if the beauty or the soul is strong enough.

A good eye sees, and senses

People tell me I have a good eye. It's a kind thing to hear in this world. But I don't think a good eye is something you're simply born with. It's something you grow, by paying attention.

Every piece has two sides. There's the part you can see: form, balance, color, condition, integrity, harmony, texture, and the quality of the materials and the craftsmanship. All of that has to work together for a piece to please you. And then there's the part you can only sense: the energy a piece carries. What the maker put into it. Where it lived, how it was used, and by whom. Somehow those things stay in an object, and more often than not it's that unseen part that decides whether you're drawn to a piece at all.

So how I choose isn't only about how a thing looks. It's about how it feels. Just like with people, beauty on its own doesn't guarantee good energy. A good eye learns to read both.

There are two ways to look

The first is driven by need. You have a specific spot, a specific size, a specific color in mind. This is real, and sometimes unavoidable, but it can be like finding the perfect anniversary gift on a deadline. The pressure crowds out the joy. If you go looking for a 150-year-old cabinet in exactly this dimension and exactly that shade of red, you've written a recipe that's hard to fill.

The second way is to buy what you love and trust it will find its place. This asks you to stay flexible and open. Maybe two pieces fill the space you imagined for one. Maybe something you already own moves to solve the problem. This way is more fun, and it tends to create a home that's yours, not one that simply looks good.

Whenever you can, shift from the first way to the second.

Notice what keeps pulling you

Take time to look around. You'll start to recognize what you're drawn to again and again. And once you understand what it is about those pieces that attracts you, you'll find future ones more easily. Often it isn't how a thing looks, but how it feels. That's worth paying attention to. Our surroundings shape us more than we admit; they bring joy and ease, or they don't.

Let the body decide

The questions I ask myself are simple. Did it make me say wow? Did I get a chill, or goosebumps? Did it bring tears, stop me in my tracks, or just plain make me happy? If the answer is yes, the piece comes home. I've stopped second-guessing this. There's nothing mysterious about it. It's instinct and intuition, and the body tends to know before the mind does.

What I weigh, once the feeling is there

When a piece passes that first test, here's what I look at:

• The basics. Beauty, balance, harmony, color, structural integrity, craftsmanship, and condition.

• Patina. The physical evidence of a life lived. It says something of a piece's age and history, whether it had a hard life or an easy one. It gives mystery without telling the whole story.

• Materials. Sometimes incidental, sometimes the whole reason for the piece. Exquisite wood or stone forgives a great deal.

• History and interest. Does it reveal itself slowly? A carving that tells a story, a hidden compartment, a subtle asymmetry. Does it hold your affection, or is it just another cabinet?

• Energy. The one few people name. A piece can have beauty, balance, and a fine history and still feel lifeless. Good craftsmanship with bad energy isn't worth having. Harmony and good energy are valuable things to live around.

A great piece ideally has all five. In truth, it rarely needs all of them, and it doesn't have to.

In the end

Choose what you love, not what you think someone else will like. If a piece gives you joy, creates a sense of wonder, and reminds you of what matters, then it has done its work. That's the whole philosophy.

And here's the one catch: none of it really happens on a screen. A photograph can show you the form of a thing, but it can't give you the chill. So if you ever find yourself near Solana Beach, come wander the showroom on Cedros. Take your time, touch what draws you, and notice what stops you. That's the only way to know, and it's my favorite part.

Have courage, have fun, be yourself, and pay attention to what resonates with you.

David Alan