1 Less Thing and the Power of Second Life

In nature, nothing is wasted. What is shed, left behind, or outgrown becomes the beginning of something new.

This Earth Month, 1 Hotels invites guests and local communities to take part in 1 Less Thing—a simple, intentional act rooted in the belief that even the smallest choices can create meaningful change. Throughout the year, that philosophy lives quietly in every guestroom, where a single invitation awaits: leave behind one gently used piece of clothing, and we’ll ensure it reaches someone who needs it most.

Now, for Earth Month, that impact expands beyond the room and into our shared spaces. Each of our lobbies becomes a place of collective action, welcoming guests and neighbors alike to drop off gently worn clothing—items that will be thoughtfully redistributed through our local charitable partners, extending their life and purpose while helping reduce textile waste.
But the story doesn’t end with donation. Across our sanctuaries, what is given takes on new meaning.

At 1 Hotel Brooklyn Bridge, a blooming “garden” grows from donated garments, transforming the lobby into a living landscape shaped by each contribution. In West Hollywood, timeworn textiles are reimagined into sculptural forms that honor memory, wear, and the beauty of a life well lived. And in San Francisco, fallen wood is shaped with intention, revealing the quiet permanence held within natural materials.

Together, these installations bring the spirit of 1 Less Thing to life—a reminder that what we choose to pass on can still carry purpose. What begins as a small gesture becomes something greater: a reduction of waste, an act of generosity, and a story continued.

To deepen that story, we spoke with the artists and makers behind each installation, exploring the materials, philosophies, and creative processes that shape their work—and the shared belief that doing good can start with simply letting go.

Studio Wenjüe Lu x 1 Hotel Brooklyn Bridge

Your practice moves between art, fashion, and a sense of slowness. How did that journey begin, and how has it shaped the way you think about repair, preservation, and material storytelling?

We began our practice with a continuous mission - to help restore a sense of “slowness” to the ever-accelerating world. From China to Brooklyn, Lulu came from a background of painting and garment-making, while Michael brought along his experiences in cultural and media studies; both of us are deeply aligned with Daoist philosophy, namely with its calling for our being-one-with-nature, through the mantra of “天人合一” (The Nature’s Will and Human Affairs Are One).

The journey started during the shaky moment of early pandemic in 2020 when everything felt so still, yet so fast. It’s now almost six years later, and the mission has become clearer-than-ever: together, we hope to offer a multidisciplinary platform, a visualized and aestheticized way to philosophize, to connect communities, and to tell a story made through hands and felt by heart.

In your Earth Month collaboration with 1 Hotel Brooklyn Bridge, how did you translate the spirit of Slowness into the design of the 1 Less Thing Box and its larger installation?

Coming across the 1 Less Thing initiative, right away we are reminded of the importance of “what remains in the end returns to the land” — the beauty of cyclicity that lies in our power to preserve, reuse, and to share with care, all of these requires time and a deep respect for it: to us, this respect is slowness in practice.

The lobby lounge area of 1 Hotel Brooklyn Bridge is absolutely gorgeous: reclaimed lumber repurposed into wall panels and furniture, a ceiling-height “green walls” of living plants leading to the roomful of luxurious flora, a rainwater collection system on the roof that transports water underground for sustainable irrigation… Every single thoughtful detail led us into the vision of a perennial garden, as we feel the need to honor this sustainable cyclicity shared between 1 Hotel and our studio.

Approaching this Earth Month collab, we envision the lobby & lounge area as a garden symbolizing the planet Earth, the one big garden that houses all gardens: where the air is always fresh, and the plants are always green. A giant flower grows from a “planter” — the reimagined Donation Box for 1 Less Thing, where each donated clothing is also fertilizing and growing our wishes to honor and uplift the planet, people, and culture in the places we call home, through the help of our amazing non-profit partners.

We are also visited by its long-hidden residents and stewards — our own take on the beloved garden gnomes, they’re a shy bunch that usually remain underground to secretly take care of our planet. But this time, we wish to help reveal the guardians protecting the world with us before they hide up again.

Your work honors what already exists rather than starting from scratch. How does transforming materials like hotel sheets and pillowcases into something new shift your perspective on value and longevity?

1 Hotel Brooklyn Bridge has provided us with an amazing opportunity to prescribe new life into the damaged hotel bedsheets and pillow cases no longer suitable for guests, through the process of restoring these items back to their materiality, such as cotton and linen fabrics, we’ve gained an even deeper understanding of a certain “Oneness”.

At Studio Wenjüe Lu, we believe the past is the present, that expiration dates are for perishable goods, and art is one of the ways we can preserve and extend the possibilities of seemingly unusable things. The journey of the sheets and pillowcases is indicative of such interconnection — from fibers of the original cotton and linen plants, to comfortable bedding items until the end of their “lifespan”, to our deconstructing them back into fabrics and eventually re-inventing them into the final installation. This mindset of seeing the past and the present as one allowed us to continue creating meanings with these “past-tenses”; thus, the value and longevity of any given thing are determined by the lights under which we see them.

Stan Los Angeles x 1 Hotel West Hollywood

Your work often transforms overlooked or discarded materials into something striking. What first drew you to that process, and how has it shaped your design philosophy?

What first drew me in was the feeling that certain materials still had life left in them. I would come across old quilts, grain sacks, coverlets, or workwear textiles that had already lived full lives, and yet they still carried a kind of presence. The wear, the repairs, the fading, the marks of use — all of it felt more honest and more moving than something new for the sake of newness.
Over time, that shaped my design philosophy in a deep way. I began to see clothing and objects not just as products, but as companions — things that earn their place through use, utility, and longevity. Reuse, for me, is not only about reducing waste. It is about recognizing value where others may have stopped looking. It is about restraint, respect for material, and the belief that well-made things can continue to evolve rather than be discarded. That way of thinking sits at the heart of STAN.

In creating the 1 Less Thing Box for 1 Hotel West Hollywood, how did you translate the idea of “less” into something tangible, both as a functional object and as an installation?

To me, “less” is not about absence or austerity. It is about intention. It is about removing excess and making space for something more meaningful to remain. With the 1 Less Thing Box, I wanted to create an object that carried that idea in a simple, tangible way.

Functionally, it is a vessel — something that invites interaction, reflection, and participation. But as an installation, it also acts as a quiet statement about our relationship to objects: what we keep, what we cast aside, and what might still hold value if we looked at it differently. I wanted the piece to feel grounded, useful, and emotionally resonant rather than overly designed. That same thinking guided the larger installation in the lobby. I approached it as an environment built from story, material memory, and reuse — showing that sustainability can feel warm, elevated, and deeply human. Not sterile. Not performative. Just thoughtful.

Los Angeles is a city of constant reinvention. How does that energy influence the way you approach sustainability, not just as a practice, but as a mindset?

Los Angeles is a city of reinvention, and I relate to that deeply. It’s a place where people are constantly shaping new identities, new spaces, and new ways of living. But for me, that idea of reinvention is most meaningful when it comes from intention rather than excess. I’ve always tried to live with a certain awareness of the things I carry around me — the clothes I wear, the objects I keep, the tools I rely on. I like being surrounded by things that feel purposeful, things with weight, memory, and utility.

That personal outlook shapes the way I think about sustainability. It is not just a design practice or a material choice — it is a way of moving through life. It means choosing fewer things, but choosing them well. It means valuing objects that can age with you, serve you, and tell a story over time. In a city that can often feel fast and disposable, I’m more interested in building a life around permanence, usefulness, and emotional connection.

So sustainability, to me, is really about attention. It’s about living with intention, honoring what already exists, and believing that the things we keep close should have meaning.

Luke Bartels of Woodshop x 1 Hotel San Francisco

Your work is deeply tied to the natural character and history of wood. What led you to this material, and how has that relationship evolved over time?

I have made furniture since having access to a woodshop studying art in college. Some years later, I came across locally milled lumber while buying material for a company I was working for. At the time we were building props for photo shoots that would be constructed, used, and often disposed of. The contrast between buying the least expensive materials possible for temporary use, and the idea of building heirloom pieces out of wood salvaged from locally fallen logs struck a chord. I started seeking out local mills and met Evan Shively at Arborica in West Marin and instantly fell under the spell of his magical place. I decided that I would hitch myself to this concept and have worked exclusively with wood from his mill for the last 20 years.

As far as the evolution over time, I’m enthralled by the fluid relationship between the ways we are shaped by our environment, and the ways we shape our environment. I go from wanting to do as little as possible to the wood to let it serve the function it needs to play (i.e. table, credenza, etc.) and let the natural beauty of the wood be the design. And then over time I want to intervene with the material more and impose my own design and ideas on it. It certainly hasn’t been a linear evolution, but more of a push and pull in different directions over time.

For your Earth Month installation at 1 Hotel San Francisco, how did you approach the design of the 1 Less Thing Box in a way that honors both material integrity and intention?

Most boxes are built with plywood because it offers dimensional stability. I wanted to use the Big Leaf Maple in its entirety, so the process involves building with the idea of material that expands and contracts over time. The bottom of the box has been let into a groove so that it can move along the sides where the grain directions oppose each other. Since I can’t use the bottom as a structural support, I’ve used the four feet to tie the corners together and help it keep its square shape.

Working with wood often means working with time, growth, aging, and reuse. How does that sense of time influence the way you think about sustainability and permanence in design?

Time in this line of work is an ever present concern. I am always building for longevity. In many ways, each piece I make is a test I’m running whose results I won’t see until some time far into the future. I recently worked on a project where we burned some already rot-resistent wood to put into the ground as low retaining walls. We wanted a cleaner alternative to the chemicals used in pressure treated lumber. The wood itself will likely last at least a decade on its own, so we won’t know how much the heat treatment will add to the longevity for ten or fifteen or twenty years.

At the moment I’m also working on some blocky pieces that require 6-8 months for the wood to fully dry out. I’m still figuring out exactly how this works from a furniture business standpoint, but I really like the objects and have been making some to cure around the shop until they’re ready.

Step Into Earth Month

This Earth Month, the story continues across our sanctuaries. From hands-on workshops to community gatherings and nature-led experiences, each moment is an invitation to reconnect with the planet, with one another, and with the choices we make every day. Explore our happenings and discover how small acts can lead to lasting impact.