They met in Cairo in 1998: Gary partway through an engineering career that had already carried him through several countries, Dea midway through a Master's degree that had taken her far from the Copenhagen she'd grown up in. This meeting launched a life together built on the restlessness to keep moving and the instinct, wherever they were, to make it feel genuinely like home.
What each carried was different, and as it turned out, complementary. Dea brought a Danish design sensibility absorbed simply by growing up in it: layers of light, clean lines, nothing in a room that didn't earn its place. And a flexibility sharpened over years of setting up a working home from scratch in country after country. Gary, raised on a farm in Canada, grew up learning practical skills that would serve him well; years in Southeast Asia gave them something harder to earn: an understanding of how great hospitality actually works, not through what a space looks like, but through how it makes you feel when you are in it. Together those lenses make one complete picture.
They brought those ideas into practice, designing and building two homes in Phuket; the second, Dama Zamya, built entirely off-grid and recognised with an architectural sustainability award in 2010. Gary's preoccupation with light began with their first build; Dea brought the unexpected pairings that made rooms feel inhabited rather than styled. A good room, like a good meal, doesn't require expense; it requires attention.
Together they have stayed in short-term rentals, from simple jungle huts and rooftop tents to bespoke luxury stays, across more than forty countries. The instinct for a considered space doesn't switch off: camping for weeks in the southern African bush, they still found ways to make camp feel deliberate: empty water bottles filled with sand, a candle pressed into each, placed around the fire. It cost nothing, and it turned the bush into somewhere that felt warm and intimate. They spent years on the other side of that experience too, hosting guests in properties they designed and built themselves. That double perspective, as guest and host hundreds of times over across very different kinds of places, is the foundation of everything at zAmya Studio.
When they walk into a property, they don't see it the same way. Gary, a photographer for thirty-five years, reads the frame first: light, proportion, what the space is doing before anyone walks in. Dea lets her gaze settle and notices the angles he hasn't caught yet. Take one of them out, and the chain breaks.
The question they always return to is the same: not what is wrong, but what is genuinely present, and what is quietly missing.
They are based in Paphos, Cyprus.