Photographs by Simon Upton
A few years ago, Jean, my partner, and I started to feel that we wanted to simplify our life in the country. Watching the real estate ads, as I always do, this one-story house built in 1976 caught my eye for several reasons. First, nestled into the trees with the mountains behind, it sat beautifully in the landscape. Second, as a prefabricated “deck house,” it belonged to an interesting strand of midcentury design history. (The company that designed and produced it survives today as Acorn Deck House.) Third, it had very good bones, which made for lots of interesting possibilities for a renovation.
Like all the deck houses of its period, this one came with a wood ceiling, exposed joists, and lots of wood paneling. (The owner, an airline pilot well- known and loved in the area, had made it into a bachelor pad with shag carpets, a large bar, a Jacuzzi, and a sauna—all cool in their day, but not for us.) The floor plan was basic, essentially seven rooms and a basement. By the time we added a new garage, pulled down a few walls, and refocused the spaces on the views, the house was the same size, but much more open.
Photographs by Simon Upton
Creating a new front entrance, though, was step one. With the old house, the front door pushed into the living room. Instead, I wanted a contained space—an enclosed transition area to remove coats and boots—that would heighten the surprise of walking into the great room, a living/dining area fronted by a glass wall that opens onto a deck and the vista beyond.
To the left of the great room, we put the master bedroom, Jean’s office, and two baths. To the right, in what used to be the laundry, we installed three doors; one opens to a bar, another to a closet, and a third to the former garage, which I transformed into my home office.
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Photographs by Simon Upton
One of the most appealing aspects of the property is the way the house nestles into its surroundings.
Photographs by Simon Upton
One of the most appealing aspects of the property is the way the house nestles into its surroundings.
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Photographs by Simon Upton
The entry hall of my Connecticut house is a mix of favorite pieces. The painted stone obelisk looks and feels right with the Navajo rug. I had the midcentury Danish credenza lacquered black to fit this space. With the painting by
Emilia Dublicki above, the combination fills the eye.
Photographs by Simon Upton
The entry hall of my Connecticut house is a mix of favorite pieces. The painted stone obelisk looks and feels right with the Navajo rug. I had the midcentury Danish credenza lacquered black to fit this space. With the painting by
Emilia Dublicki above, the combination fills the eye.
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Photographs by Simon Upton
A nineteenth-century Anglo-Dutch captain’s trunk anchors a wall in the entry hall; the dealer stripped and restored its hardware.
Photographs by Simon Upton
A nineteenth-century Anglo-Dutch captain’s trunk anchors a wall in the entry hall; the dealer stripped and restored its hardware.
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Photographs by Simon Upton
The great room decor blends many places and periods. Italian armchairs, c. 1960s, echo the ceiling’s angled beams. I purchased the eighteenth-century Irish console for my very first client; when she downsized, she offered it back to me. Bronka Stern’s totem sculpture, c. 1960s, stands tall in one corner.
Photographs by Simon Upton
The great room decor blends many places and periods. Italian armchairs, c. 1960s, echo the ceiling’s angled beams. I purchased the eighteenth-century Irish console for my very first client; when she downsized, she offered it back to me. Bronka Stern’s totem sculpture, c. 1960s, stands tall in one corner.
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Photographs by Simon Upton
Long and narrow, the great room functions as both a dining and a living room. A stainless-steel box, used as a coffee table, makes a simple backdrop for more interesting objects.
Photographs by Simon Upton
Long and narrow, the great room functions as both a dining and a living room. A stainless-steel box, used as a coffee table, makes a simple backdrop for more interesting objects.
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Photographs by Simon Upton
In keeping with the overall palette, black and white marble rectangles create a random pattern on the kitchen backsplash.
Photographs by Simon Upton
In keeping with the overall palette, black and white marble rectangles create a random pattern on the kitchen backsplash.
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Photographs by Simon Upton
On the opposite side of the room, my desk slips into a wall niche; the chairs come from a 1940s country club; in their original green patent, they fit right into the interior landscape
Photographs by Simon Upton
On the opposite side of the room, my desk slips into a wall niche; the chairs come from a 1940s country club; in their original green patent, they fit right into the interior landscape
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Photographs by Simon Upton
Once a garage, my office/guest room is a great place to work, to read, and to daydream while looking at the view.
Photographs by Simon Upton
Once a garage, my office/guest room is a great place to work, to read, and to daydream while looking at the view.
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Photographs by Simon Upton
The pattern of the fabric on the bench seems to amplify a similar graphic statement of a vessel by
Dana Brandwein, a potter in nearby Sharon, that sits prominently on the low table.
Photographs by Simon Upton
The pattern of the fabric on the bench seems to amplify a similar graphic statement of a vessel by
Dana Brandwein, a potter in nearby Sharon, that sits prominently on the low table.
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Photographs by Simon Upton
In Jean’s office, we had the top of his French desk, c. 1950, painted red to add a bit of spice into the two-tone palette.
Photographs by Simon Upton
In Jean’s office, we had the top of his French desk, c. 1950, painted red to add a bit of spice into the two-tone palette.
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Photographs by Simon Upton
In our bedroom, a deer head from Sri Lanka presides from on high. The bed is a prototype of one I designed for
Savoir Beds. Gray glass mirrors flank the headboard and reflect back the light and views, which includes the shade of green for the fabric that upholsters the headboard.
Photographs by Simon Upton
In our bedroom, a deer head from Sri Lanka presides from on high. The bed is a prototype of one I designed for
Savoir Beds. Gray glass mirrors flank the headboard and reflect back the light and views, which includes the shade of green for the fabric that upholsters the headboard.
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In the master bath, The Bridge, a set of four photographs—two on the wall by the sink, the other two above the foot of the tub—shows the restraint and elegance of artist Dorothy Imagire’s point of view. It is such a luxury to have a tub that looks directly into the landscape.
In the master bath, The Bridge, a set of four photographs—two on the wall by the sink, the other two above the foot of the tub—shows the restraint and elegance of artist Dorothy Imagire’s point of view. It is such a luxury to have a tub that looks directly into the landscape.
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Photographs by Simon Upton
In the summer, the view from the terrace is rich in greens. But when the leaves drop, the mountains dominate.
Photographs by Simon Upton
In the summer, the view from the terrace is rich in greens. But when the leaves drop, the mountains dominate.
I also completely redid the kitchen and reorganized its flow so it had two entrances. To tie all the spaces together further, I used only three colors on the walls: a dark gray-green, and two shades of white, one of which was used for the trim throughout. The rest of the color comes from the furnishings, objects, and artwork.
While the renovation was still underway, someone asked if I were going to do the rooms entirely in midcentury modern or maybe use only pieces from the 1970s. That would have been too obvious a solution. Part of the fun for me was exploring how to use a modern frame to highlight furnishings and objects from other periods and places.
Photographs by Simon Upton
My much-edited blend included some pieces I have loved for years, such as a nineteenth-century mirror that first drew me into the world of interiors, and an eighteenth-century Irish console that was the first important piece I purchased for my first client after I had launched my firm, and that she gave to me as a housewarming gift when she decided to downsize. This mix also welcomed others that have more recently caught my eye: an antique Korean chest, a Navajo rug, and a prototype Italian chair from the 1960s. All the pieces have taken on new life in juxtaposition with their fresh surroundings.
This house is about us right now. It is different from our last house, which was about us then. We all evolve.
The print version of this article appeared with the headline: Changing Scenery. Subscribe to C&G
