10 Questions With… Benjamin Hubert

ID: Were you thinking it was too much about yourself as the product, taking your name off the door?

BH: For sure, but removing your name allows you to have an agenda that is broader and quite selfless. That’s important as a designer because there’s a place for personality, but there’s more of a place for passion that comes from individuals and a little more democracy. The team is the reason people choose to work with us. We have intentionally not scaled to a faceless, consultant suite. We’ve kept it to about 30 people so it’s remained personal.

ID: What was the first big project for Layer that expressed this broader agenda?

BH: The wheelchair we worked on with Nike was the epitome of the type of work we want to do. It’s in a category that is an extension of yourself: personal mobility. We thought of Braun and Dieter Rams, and I personally love that stoic nature of minimalism. Though it might feel cold and unapproachable, its sinuous, fluid nature of motion translates into performance attire pretty happily. We went for a radical aesthetic as a bit of a conversation starter.

I feel a sense of reassurance when there’s actually something to solve through design, where you could reason with the outcome and hold it to account. It brings me satisfaction when you can impact multiple areas of interface with somebody’s experience. The more challenging and complex a project is, the more opportunity there is to make it better. Also, the more responsibility you have, the more designers should push. I mean, the reason we set up divisions of all the work is because our most successful projects are the ones we look at from brand, digital, product launch, sustainability, and accessible price point—focusing on that ethos around it, that world-building.

ID: This extends beyond human users. What interests you in designing for pets, such as the Earth Rated range?

BH: Well, your user group can’t speak, right? Pet parents have lots of opinions, so you can glean loads of juicy insights through [talking to them] but then you’ve got to work out: What does the creature want and need? I’m a dog owner, and when I’m in the US and a see a green thing that’s hanging on somebody’s hip or in a dog’s mouth, nine times out of ten it’s something we designed—and that just brings me a great sense of pleasure, when you create a sustainable thing that is a mini status symbol for the person and brings the pet so much joy.

ID: How does that translate into the interiors and furniture work you do?

BH: We’re working on something around mobility, with crash testing and that type of thing, so there’s a very serious kind of due diligence and engineering that makes that project interesting. But something we do successfully is to have quite a breadth of projects, where we work on a real nice piece of furniture or a cool piece of technology all under one umbrella. A lot of agencies don’t do the warmer, softer work. But I just really love the human scale, the beautifully-crafted materials, the sense of long-lastiningness that is a core of the furniture category. It’s not always a direct translation, but a level of care and craftsmanship that can be cross-pollinated into how you treat a piece of metal or handle a piece of recyclable plastic—and that gives us a broader palate.

ID: What’s the palette for your exhibition design at Salone?

BH: It’s almost a physical representation of the book, but quite revealing. It makes you feel a little vulnerable. We’re creating a bunch of animations for six experimental prototypes with brands that challenge the way we live through the lens of craft, from fashion to furniture to object. Each one tackles a fundamental need, whether it’s sustenance, water collection, food, or community.  We thought about what was interesting but actionable, and then how we would solve them if we weren’t to use technology and electricity. And the way for that was through craft, with processes that could be around for thousands of years but as viable solutions that don’t overly rely on things like networks.

ID: Could you share an example of that?

BH: We’re working with Muuto on these oil burner lights that use algae. How do we find a sustainable, renewable fuel to bring light to the environment? And rather than go the solar route, we wanted to think about other fuel sources which are in absolute abundance. We’ve been researching algae, which is an amazing material, and then we started talking to people who create oil from it. You can use algae as a fuel source to burn, which many people don’t really know about.

ID: How will you present these works at Salone?

BH: The space will be amazing: 10 Corso Como was renovated a few months ago, and have these beautiful gallery spaces. We’re showing a serious collection of past works as beautiful, large-scale, translucent watercolors. As you go through the space, you will land on the new collection, presented cleanly and immediately, as each piece is expressive in its form and size. We’ve been working with an amazing animator to tell the stories of the product, but it’s incredibly clean as an exhibition because the space is beautiful in its own right.

ID: Speaking of the combination of digital and physical spaces, how are you and Layer thinking through AI?

BH: We use some generative visual tools for exploration because they’re quick and sort of hilarious, and we use a few video tools in more serious ways. We embrace new technologies in terms of process. But this new collection is definitely a sort of mini commentary on that, in that we are using material and craft that speaks to the maker, the hand, and things that are more humane. It’s kind of like: Don’t forget, we’ve been doing some things well for millennia and we should talk about those things again. The only solution isn’t necessarily the machine-made. I’m both fascinated by bleeding-edge tech and the oldest craft, and I think we need to remember that both those things are important.

ID: What’s next on the board for you?

BH: I’m increasingly interested in working on things that make a difference. What I would like to do is more community-based work, whether it’s with charities, NGOs, or not-for-profits—things where design isn’t just a desire, but a necessity. Some of the most difficult challenges are about how you actually get things on the ground and working, not just conceptually interesting or conversation pieces. Access to water, access to medicines, how you can transport from one place to another—these are all the mental needs to make somebody happier and healthier to make their lives work. Designers should have a responsibility to use their time towards that. I think design should be for the many. And I would like to think that in another 10 years’ time, the idea of democratic design and investment in the design of things that are more affordable and needed, will be more of our mandate.

Explore A Stunning Waterfront Retreat In Nantucket

Overlooking Pocomo Harbor, this waterfront property in Nantucket, Massachusetts, defies expectations in more ways than one. What appears to be a cluster of gabled masses sprouting from a grove of mature trees is in fact a single 5,500-square-foot structure. And while the shingled facades might suggest classic interiors, they turn out to be quite contemporary, with clean lines and a zenlike vibe. Also surprising: Rather than the usual grand living room forming the heart of the home, the clients requested that Giants firm Workshop/APD design a series of more casual and intimately scaled gathering spaces, including the open-plan kitchen/dining area, with its dual steel islands,  an adjacent screened-in sitting room, and a family/TV room—not to mention the alfresco hangout spots. A minimalist palette of oak millwork and terrazzo flooring forms a calm backdrop that keeps the focus on the views of the landscape—and on the homeowners’ art collection, comprising boldly colored works by the likes of Etel Adnan, Carol Bove, Antonio Calderara, Jennie C. Jones, and Ugo Rondinone.

This Retail Locale For Drones Features A Test-Flight Park

2024 Best of Year Winner for Retail

The flagship location of DJI, one of the foremost producers of camera drones and stabilizers, obviously had to incorporate a test-flight park. The landscaped grounds of this 43,000-square-foot renovated store by Various Associates, now has a spectacular one dubbed the DJI Oasis, with ramps traversing soft lawns that also sprout artful drone-control towers. For the new interior in Shenzen, China, a metal-slat skin traces the building’s irregular pyramidal form, simultaneously emphasizing the dynamic structure and providing solar shading. The four floors offer sci-fi-esque zones for sales, product experiences, customer support, and training, while a grand staircase twists and turns on its way to an alfresco viewing platform on the second floor—a prime spot for watching drones at play.

PROJECT TEAM: QIANYI LIN; DONGZI YANG; HANQUN CAI; YUWEN DENG; ZEBING LI; BENZHEN PAN; CHAO LUO; JUNRUI ZHANG; QIAN XIE; YUE ZHANG.

10 Questions With… NOMA President Bryan C. Lee, Jr.

Bryan C. Lee Jr. On The Importance of Community-Led Design

Interior Design: You’ve just begun your term as president of NOMA. What does this role mean to you?

Bryan C. Lee, Jr.: I started with NOMA in 2004 as a student, looking for a group or organization that would allow me to feel like my best self and have someone to look up to. It wasn’t until I was 16 that I saw a Black architect for the first time: Curtis Moody. It made me realize how important it is to have a group of people who can come together and support issues that are crucial not just to our general cause, but also to society as a whole. NOMA became that for me. To look back 20 years later and see how much this organization has grown since I joined—and the direction it’s taken—shows the collective growth we’ve experienced, both as a professional organization and as a people. It’s a tremendous opportunity to bring the knowledge I’ve gained over the years as an architect and organizer. I believe that prepares me for this moment, and our board as well. No one does this alone. This moment has already been challenging, but we were prepared for it, and we’re in a good spot.

ID: You introduced NOMA Engage as a new pillar to formalize advocacy and community engagement. Can you tell us more about the inspiration behind its creation and the impact you envision it will have?

BL: NOMA Engage was a way for us to be more direct and forthright with the external organizations we want to be in community with. It’s about serving the communities we’re part of more directly and stepping out of the bubble of architecture to make sure we’re of service to a broader society. Engage is about taking us back to our roots to some extent. Early NOMA conferences included architects, mortgage brokers, developers, contractors, and civil rights organizations. There was already an earnest attempt at the beginning of this organization to be cross-organizational in its efforts. Engage is an attempt to bring that back to the forefront and make sure the work we do is attached to broader conversations around justice in the built environment.

ID: Can you share a formative memory or experience that first sparked your interest in architecture and design?

BL: One moment in my life that shaped me was when I was about seven years old, and my family moved to Sicily from Trenton, New Jersey. This was in the late ’80s, early ’90s. My mother was in the Air Force, and we were stationed there for about two and a half years. The juxtaposition of space and place between an American city on the East Coast and a historic, walkable city like Sicily, with its plazas and engaged social fabric, really struck me. It was a city that was adjacent to cornfields, more of a walking culture, and a culture that protected its elders. When I came back, I started drawing and asking my parents what that was. They said, “That’s being an architect.” And from that point forward, I just went with it. That was the origin point for me.

Another critical moment was when I was at Florida A&M University playing football. I became sick and had to make some decisions, so I transferred to Ohio State University. I went from a majority Black student body to a majority white student body, with exponentially more students. I found myself a bit lost, struggling to understand what I wanted to do. During my first year at Ohio State, I didn’t understand the value of architecture anymore. I didn’t understand why or who we were doing things for. And that’s when NOMA actually came into my life. A friend of mine, who was also transitioning from an HBCU to Ohio State, and I said, “Hey, we need more camaraderie. We need more community.” That was the origin point for us discovering NOMA. It was a huge moment for me, and it changed my life.

ID: Can you tell us more about your firm, Colloqate Design, and its approach as a multidisciplinary practice?

BL: We started Colloqate about eight years ago, in 2017. The first two years were kind of a wash. We were working on a single project, but it was during a fertile time in New Orleans…There was this impending momentum around social justice movements fighting for Black lives. At that moment, we were focused on the removal of racist monuments across the landscape of New Orleans. And we had this conversation about how to take things down, but we rarely got to the question of what comes next. “What do we do when we win this battle? What do we do on the other side of justice?” And so Colloqate was an answer to some of those questions. It was a way for us to think about cultural communal spaces and places that were truly in service of the communities that we serve.

Colloqate’s mission is still to challenge the privilege and power structures that use architecture and design as tools of oppression, and to reconfigure architecture and design as tools for justice, empathy, and care. Sometimes, that doesn’t look like what others in traditional practices would expect. It means more public spaces, more community involvement in the process—exponentially more community. That level of involvement can be challenging for some, but we’ve honed techniques and processes that allow other architecture firms to follow suit. One such initiative is our Community Design Organizer Program.

We have two different roles: Community Design Advocates and Community Design Organizers. These are people we hire from the community who are already organizing around their specific neighborhoods or communities. They become advocates for the community within the design process, joining the design team. Additionally, we might collect 15,000 to 20,000 comments over the course of a project, or more. We’ve developed a design justice framework that integrates this feedback directly into the architectural process, allowing us to track community commentary from schematic design to finished product. This documentation ensures that, for the longevity and history of the project, there’s always a record of the decisions made. In 20 years, if someone needs to change something or review the building, the as-built documentation will say, “This is what the community asked for. This is dear to their hearts. Don’t mess with this part.” If changes are necessary, look elsewhere. That’s the premise, and Colloqate has been working to forward this mission and these precedents to other architectural practices.

ID: How has your experience as founder and design principal at Colloqate influenced your vision for NOMA?

BL: I’ve always been both the biggest advocate for NOMA and, at times, a thorn in its side. I’ve always wanted us to be more vocal and more connected to larger conversations around justice. But early on, I had this comment that I always went back to: architecture feels like it is too big to deal with the small, nuanced conversations and too small to deal with the large societal conversations.

We found ourselves a nice little niche where we don’t owe anybody anything outside of the artistry of what we do. That’s comforting, as we don’t have influence over either of those spaces—but we do. As an organization, as architects, that’s what we attempt to do: to be vocal on the ground level in communities while also taking a stance on larger scale issues, whether that’s abolition, affordable housing, or accessible public spaces. All of this ties back into NOMA, because it allows us to change the playing field.

As a leader in this organization, my core belief is that if we want to grow—not just the organization, but also its footprint and impact—we have to change the playing field we’re playing on. We have to ensure that procurement is changed and that the requests from community members are adhered to in various places. When we create those documents and templates, and make sure that as we change the playing field, we open up opportunities for small firms, minority firms, or underrepresented firms to grow, to make more direct impacts on their communities, and to succeed in ways that, historically, those opportunities have been taken away from us. That’s the opportunity. There’s no other way to approach it for me. It has to be about changing the playing field.

ID: What have been the biggest lessons from the success of NOMA’s Project Pipeline program, and how do you envision its future?

BL: Project Pipeline is near and dear to my heart. I took it over in 2014 after running it locally in New Orleans. The greatest success was, as I mentioned earlier, our ability to be in community—on the ground level, talking to community members and their parents. That was the conversation that needed to happen, and Project Pipeline was a facilitation for that. One thing I’ve learned since is that whatever activity or event you are involved in, you’re just a conduit for better conversations. Better conversations lead to better spaces, places, and buildings. And that’s what Project Pipeline did.

I used to start Project Pipeline as a cheerleader, and we would talk about the fact that most of you will not become architects. Most of you will go on to live incredible lives doing many other things, but somewhere in the back of your head, you’ll have a conscious understanding of the impact of the space you’re in. Some of you will become architects, and you’ll have those connections to buildings that are impacting people—not just building for building’s sake. I see so much of what we started with Project Pipeline influencing the conversation around design justice in 2014. That trajectory within the profession didn’t exist before then, at least not as a codified concept. People had been doing it for decades, but now there are design justice initiatives at different universities. Project Pipeline fed all of that, and to this day, it shapes how we view co-location. It’s touched every part of my work because it’s the foundation for so much of what we do. We’ve taught nearly 20,000 students now, and that’s mind-boggling to me. Over a decade, that’s a remarkable feat, but there’s more to do.

ID: The Whitney M. Young Jr. Award recognizes your commitment to social responsibility in architecture. How has this honor shaped your goals as NOMA President?

BL: I remember sitting at the ceremony in 2013 when Harvey Gantt was receiving the Whitney M. Young Award. It was only my third or fourth year attending the AIA Awards, and I wasn’t getting up early enough to see the ceremony. But when I saw Harvey Gantt, I thought, “Okay, that’s interesting.” This man was a politician who worked in communities, was an architect, and had all of those credentials. I thought, “That feels familiar. It feels like something I want to aim for.” While I wasn’t necessarily thinking of the Whitney M. Young Award as my goal, I wanted to do work that was impactful—work that mattered to young people, community members, and elders. I think the Whitney M. Young Award provides more visibility for that work, and the hope is that it creates a space and opportunity to talk more thoroughly about some of the justice orientations I have. It also gives me fellowship within an institution where I’ve had my own set of challenges, but ultimately, I think I need to be invested in that space because it is where power gets shaped. It opens doors in ways that they weren’t open before. As an organizer, you use any tool you have to press for change where you can, and I’ll use it.

ID: How do you envision expanding NOMA’s partnerships with equity-focused organizations to further support underrepresented communities in architecture and design?

BL: NOMA’s four pillars—educate, empower, elevate, and engage—guide our efforts. One thing NOMA wants to do more clearly is articulate the brilliance in the architecture that our members create. Elevate will help us do that. I’d also like to engage in more direct communication and conversations with people. That could involve producing more videos and audio content so people can see, hear, and connect with each other more deeply. We also need to publish in ways we haven’t before—perhaps expanding our magazine to offer a more thorough exploration of the architectural theses our members are developing. It could also mean that we’re more actively in news cycles and we’re trying to be more connected to the communities that we’re serving. Local chapters should have access to platforms and templates that make communications easier, which is key.

ID: Looking ahead, what advice do you have for emerging architects who want to use design as a tool for activism and social change?

BL: First, understand activism and organizing outside of architecture proper, and then identify where the opportunities exist at your level to poke and prod a system. Ultimately, young folks or emerging professionals who can create templates and easy pathways for justice within a practice are in the best position to drive change. Most of our field—most of the organizations and entities we interact with—already rely on templates for everything. We simplify details and documentation as much as possible. If you can do the same for justice-driven initiatives in a way that doesn’t add cumbersome considerations for your firm, you create more opportunities. Tools like the Design Justice Index from Design as Protest (DAP) can help you track your progress and identify areas for improvement.

ID: Building on that, you co-founded the Design As Protest Collective and Dark Matter University to amplify marginalized voices in the built environment. Can you share more about these initiatives?

BL: Design as Protest came out of NOMA in 2015 during a conference in New Orleans. At the time, we were dealing with the removal of racist monuments, so we brought together a series of organizers, activists, and NOMA members who worked directly with individual organizers at a table, designing spatial resolutions to the issues they were facing. That gathering built momentum. In 2017, we organized a National Day of Action, where nearly 600 people across the country came together to design with a direct cause in mind—challenging some of the policies we anticipated under the first Trump presidency. Cut to 2020, we launched the Design as Protest Collective, a coalition that initially had around 250 members and now remains 50 to 60 strong. The organization allows us to explore the most radical possibilities of architecture while providing tools and opportunities for people to challenge systems with the backing of supportive organizations. That work has been as critical to my life as NOMA and Colloqate. Similarly, Dark Matter University emerged from the conversations sparked by DAP, focusing on those same justice-driven issues within academia. It challenges architectural pedagogy and ensures design justice principles are embedded in education.

Singapore’s First 3-D Printed House Is Retro-Futuristic

2024 Best of Year Winner for Medium City House

The first 3-D printed house in Singapore pays homage to the planet’s first energy source, the sun, via a conical central form rising multiple stories and terminating with an oculus above the ground-floor dining area. Vents at the base allow hot air to rise through the cone, where it’s disbursed by a passive turbo extractor fan on the roof. A heat pump for water, meanwhile, generates waste cool air that passively chills the circular staircase as it leads to the mezzanine, second story, and attic, each with their own bedrooms and bathrooms. The aesthetic of the 6,000-square-foot residence by Park + Associates is appropriately retro-futuristic. And while the prototype might be the first of its kind, with results like this, it certainly won’t be the last.

PROJECT TEAM: LIM KOON PARK; CHRISTINA THEAN; JUTHATHONG RUTCHATANUNTAKIT; ESTHER WONG.

Rain Gardens Nourish The Land Around This Striking Home

2024 Best of Year Winner for Residential Landscape

Just a mile or so from the Atlantic Ocean and sited in a low-lying flood zone adjacent to a picturesque farm field, this just over 1-acre property in Sagaponack, New York, by LaGuardia Design Group is part sponge, part residence of the future. FEMA necessitated the house stand some 10 feet above-grade; terraced steps and decking (complete with a built-in fire table) bring it down to earth. As for that earth, it’s nourished by flowering rain gardens that slow stormwater, capture site runoff, and attract pollinators with year-round plantings, while cutting gardens in raised steel boxes attract the eye. The design of the infinity-edge pool ensures it won’t flood; all the greenery helps to ensure the land won’t, either.

PROJECT TEAM: CHRISTOPHER LAGUARDIA; DANIEL THORP; SARAH DEGRAY.

Sustainability Is Baked Into The Blueprint Of This Caribbean Home

2024 Best of Year Winner for Large City House

Residences located in tropical areas like the Caribbean must strike the right balance between maximizing and mitigating the ample resources of sun, breeze, and rain. Such was the case for this house, designed around natural ventilation. The 16,400-square-foot structure by Moneo Brock takes the form of a trio of travertine-clad concrete platforms—each set at a slightly different level to follow the topography—anchoring a grid of steel columns that in turn support vaulted brick roofs. Walls are alternately sliding glass, fully open, or composed of wooden louvers; on the property’s street-facing side, a screen wall built of local stone hushes traffic noise. Sustainability is baked in: Solar panels harness sunlight, large cisterns collect rainwater used to feed the numerous ponds and pools that cool the interior, and tanks beneath the main slab purify blackwater for household use.

PROJECT TEAM: BELÉN MONEO; JEFFREY BROCK; FEDERICO PÉREZ; JAVIER DEL POZO; FRANCISCO BLAZQUEZ; PEDRO ARNANZ; ISMAEL SANZ; YAIZA CAMACHO.

Step Into This Supremely Suprematist Home In Kyiv

More than a century ago, the Ukrainian artist Kazimir Malevich helped found the Suprematism movement, which populated abstracted white fields with geometric shapes in bold colors. Yevheniia Sytnik, founder of the Kyiv-based firm Dihome, wanted to honor this Ukrainian avant-garde legacy in the design of a 452-square-foot apartment in the capitol. “In the world, he is mistakenly considered a Russian artist because Russia appropriated his legacy,” Sytnik says. This move had particular resonance last year, when the project began. “We’re talking about Kyiv in 2023. Yes, the state of who needs design during war? was over. We design, plan, create, live. But what about art?”

First, they needed a blank canvas. The team removed walls from the two-room apartment, leaving a sole, separate volume for the bathroom. A concrete pillar became an axis; a bedroom curtain conceals a wardrobe cabinet. “The interior is built on numerous technically complex joints, material intersections, and engineering communications,” Sytnik says. A wall of glass blocks, for example, required the builders to grind them three times to ensure they perfectly achieved the room height. “Glass bricks have often been associated with ‘Soviet kitsch,’” she says, “but primarily, glass blocks conserved electricity by providing insulation.” Here, they both define space and direct the flow of natural light throughout the apartment.

While Sytnik was still measuring everything for the renovation, she happened upon the Instagram page of artist Tasha Oro. “She considers herself a direct heir to the Ukrainian avant-garde,” Sytnik says, “in her experiments with sculpture and monumental reliefs.” A series of panels Oro called Monumental stood out. “The themes and motifs seemed to somehow mirror the urban landscape outside the apartment windows,” Sytnik said. The clients agreed, and installed a number of panels around their home. “Art has a way of adding depth and dimension to an interior,” she says. Not to mention a sense of history—and of a brighter future.

Marvel at the Geometric Brilliance of This Kyiv Home by Dihome

Honor Those Who Fought For LGBTQ+ Equality At This Visitor Center

In 1969, homosexuality was a criminal offense in New York. Since every LGBTQ+ person was a potential criminal in the eyes of the law, queer gathering spaces were heavily surveilled, patrolled, and targeted by the NYPD. The Stonewall Inn in Manhattan’s West Village was among the most popular gay spaces, and the most policed. On June 28, after police raided the bar and used force on its patrons, which included many transgender people and drag queens, the community fought back. This uprising became known as the Stonewall Rebellion, sowing the seeds for annual Pride Month protests across the country and, soon, the modern queer civil rights movement.

Stonewall is proof of the way a space can change the world. And while a Stonewall bar still exists, it occupies only half the area of the original gathering place. The rest is now the Stonewall National Monument Visitor Center. Breathing new life into the structure, EDG Architecture + Engineering carefully excavated the building’s history, which opened to the public on June 28, 2024. “Part of the story is a kind of erasure of gay history,” says design director and principal Richard Unterthiner. Because of the police harassment, little documentation of the original bar architecture exists. “People weren’t taking photos,” he adds.

But the visitor center references several design touchstones—a footprint on the floor of the original bar is demarcated as an inlay in the center’s terrazzo floor. Fragments of the highly patterned tin ceiling are referenced in domes for light fixtures. The bar’s beloved jukebox returns with the exact same model, now programmed with a vibrant survey of queer sounds by nightlife fixture, DJ, and historian Honey Dijon. Importantly, an original piece of the passageway that connected the spaces is kept safe and in view. “It reminds us that Stonewall was a procession between spaces,” Unterthiner says. And an important part of the procession of gay history.

In terms of reimagining the space, EDG had some basic mandates: roof and sidewall repair, grading to make the space ADA accessible, creating some arched nooks for displays of historical and contemporary art exhibitions, and establishing an event space in the back. They kept a light touch on these interventions, enabling the historic details to shine. “We wanted to bring to the table something very elegant, clean, and quiet,” Unterthiner says, “that allowed the walls to really speak.” Now The Stonewall Inn’s history is loud and proud.

Explore The Stonewall National Monument Visitor Center

Explore A Miami Beach Abode With International Flair

When a jewelry designer and entrepreneur born in Rio de Janeiro who has long resided in Milan and recently opened a boutique hotel in Negril, Jamaica decided to make a home for herself and her family in Miami, there was no question the home needed to blend the natural beauty of all the locations of her life with the sophisticated style she’s brought to each project. But how? A fruitful collaboration with Miami’s own Bea Interiors Design was the answer.

With its 4,000 square feet spread across a quartet of bedrooms and baths over two floors, the house at first glance feels both Mediterranean and minimalist. “My favorite details are the arches,” says founder Bea Pernia, who brought over a decade of experience to the project. These architectural details are kept in focus by a restrained palette of warm colors: light wood flooring and micro-cement; white walls sharpened with black accents across the furnishings; off-white linen curtains to frame the ample windows.

Personality arrives via texture, as in the case of the lounge room’s rug which resembles soft, large pebbles—or, in a powder room, pattern, via a wallcovering of great, blousy clouds. The movie room, meanwhile, is altogether blockbuster in its combinations of monster-green furnishings, knubby throw blankets, and a oversized, red-nailed hand for a pillow. It’s what Pernia calls these kinds of “vintage pieces, organic materials, and edgy details,” which bring the house to life.

Fittingly, outside is equally intimate. Palm trees shade pavers which in turn create a dining area complete with outdoor kitchen. Nearby, a pool beckons. A guest house offers travelers a suitably international mood complete with wood panel walls, groovy chandeliers and arcing bookcases, and a swoopy chandelier joining forces with a disco ball. The new international style, after all, blurs indoors and outdoors, morning mindfulness and nighttime exuberance.

Walk Around This Sophisticated Miami Beach Abode