No longer relegated to a builder's white or popcorn finish, the ceiling is taking centre stage

We independently select everything we recommend. Buying through us may earn us a commission, which supports our work.

When Lori Lievonen and her husband moved into their new condo in Stouffville, Ont., they wanted to make it their own. Yes, they could personalize the furniture, the cabinetry, the wall colour, the decor, but what about… the ceiling? The condo had a large open-concept kitchen, dining and living space that was mostly black and white. Lievonen began browsing the work of muralists online, when she was struck by a photo of a bathroom with elaborate painted flowers flowing from the ceiling down the walls. 

The artist was Toronto muralist Jasmin Pannu, and soon Pannu was up a ladder in Lievonen’s home, covering the ceiling in oversized, hand-painted flowers in blues and pinks that spilled down onto the mouldings below. Today, the ceiling is the centrepiece of Lievonen’s home.  

“I tell everyone that they just have to come and see my ceiling,” says Lievonen. “It’s a real piece of art that brings joy to me and my husband. I could never move — I couldn’t take it with me.” 

Lievonen’s ceiling is just one whimsical example of a growing trend. No longer relegated to a builder’s white or popcorn finish, the ceiling is taking centre stage.   

“The ceiling is the crown,” says Toronto designer Lori Morris, whose maximalist, “no rules” approach saw her named to the Interior Design Review’s list of the world’s top 100 designers. “It’s the crown jewel of the room. I don’t view any part of a room — the walls, the coverings, the decorations — as more important than any other. We design the floor, the walls, the archways and the ceiling all with the same intensity and purpose.” 

For Morris, giving the ceiling the royal treatment can mean deep coffered mouldings, hand-leafed gold detailing, or a richly patterned wallpaper applied overhead. The one rule she won’t break is proportion.  

“For example, a ceiling medallion that’s too small for the chandelier — once you understand scale and proportion, there are no rules for design,” she says. “But the math has to be right first.” 

Houzz’s Fall 2025 design report named statement ceilings as a trend to watch, grouping them with jewel-toned paint and bold wallpaper as part of a broader move away from safe, resale-driven decorating and toward homes that feel unmistakably personal. In 2026, Houzz found searches for wooden ceilings up 275 per cent in the first three quarters, while Pinterest clocked a 40 per cent jump in searches for striped ceilings heading into 2026, part of a maximalist circus-inspired wave the platform is calling “FunHaus.”  

That appetite for drama overhead has a distinctly local flavour, according to Arnie Popov, a Toronto finish carpenter who has been building custom crown mouldings and waffle ceilings since the mid-2000s.  

“Go to Halifax or Vancouver and search for waffle ceilings — you won’t find much,” Popov says. “In Toronto, you’ll find fifty people doing it. It’s a Toronto thing.” As an early ceiling specialist, Popov has watched the trend take off: “Neighbours see it, real estate agents see it, and it spreads.” 

Though some designs can be pricey – custom medallions and chandeliers don’t come cheap – not every ceiling has to break the bank. For the budget-conscious, Popov suggests starting with crown moulding or a flat-stock version of the waffle look, which creates the same graphic effect, but is far simpler and cheaper to construct. 

“There are a lot of options, depending on the room,” he says. “A coffered box built above a kitchen island can become the centrepiece for the whole space.” 

And for those ready to really make a splash, there’s always paint. Toronto muralist Jasmin Pannu has painted close to a dozen ceilings since she saw demand begin to increase in 2020.  

“It coincides with a societal shift,” she says. “We’re saying no to minimalism. We don’t need our homes to look like institutions. Everyone wants to express their individuality.” 

Designing for a ceiling, she says, is nothing like designing for a wall — the sightlines change, colour overhead is perceived differently, and the goal is usually the opposite of what you’d expect: not to close a room in, but to open it up.  

“It elongates the whole spaced,” she says. “It doesn’t compress it — it makes it look more spacious.” She’s painted florals, cloud-filled skies with “a Renaissance vibe,” even a galaxy scene in a Mississauga home. The job is not always glamorous: plastic sheeting over every surface, hours on a ladder with her neck craned back, goggles for drips, and a stretch break built in every 45 minutes. A small bathroom might take an afternoon, while a full room can take three to five days. 

As for Lievonen, she has zero regrets about going big with the space overhead: “You have to see my ceiling, I tell people. And when they do, they can’t believe it.”