What Counts In One Tycoon’s Vacation Home
My good father always told me that I could do only one thing best. No two objects may occupy the same space simultaneously. As man can serve only one master, so it is with the arts and architecture. For me, science reigns supreme in architecture. Art and commerce are its supports. I frown at architecture that falls victim to the caprices of mood and fashion. I glare at architecture that is prostitute to the dictates of commerce.
Enter my editor. She calls me a design snob. She assigns me to write about a residence owned by one of the members of the country’s business elite. The patriarch of the family is the master of masters of commerce in this country. His empire grew solely from his razor-sharp business acumen—he inherited no fortune from his parents, or family connections. If he were appointed Secretary of Finance, the Philippines would be catapulted to first world status in no time at all. We would be a nation of brilliant traders telling the world that we’ve got it all for you.
My assignment was a lesson in what happens when business and design meet: the business of architecture. Located in one of the most exclusive mountain enclaves in the country, the house conceals itself from plain view by perching itself on a ravine with only the flat roof of the garage visible from the street. The architect, a master of the business of architecture himself, used the concept of folding plates, with the spaces generated within the folds comprising the house itself. It is a simple, long rectangle of a house, with PVC framed glass windows at the façade facing the mountains, and slit windows on CHB walls facing the road, but below the street level.
The folded plates form a stretched, stylized “S” clad in steel spandrel strips pre-painted to look like wood. The lower concave of the “S” contains the public areas like the living room, dining room, two kitchens and the maid’s quarters. When viewed from outside, the long row of rooms, each delineated by sliding glass doors framed in aluminum, remind me of a series of showrooms. The upper concave has the private areas: four identical bedrooms, a master bedroom, toilets and baths and a small den. A long balcony connects all the rooms and affords the occupants a sweeping view of the mountains, and a lake beyond.
Halfway to completion, a decision was made to construct an adjacent three-storey building that would serve as a foyer for the house. Inside this foyer building, at the lowest floor, is another kitchen, dining and living room ensemble, a sun deck, and a lap pool at the left end of the lot. Curiously, the dining room is furnished with office furniture—a medium-sized conference table and swivel chairs. Perhaps this is where the owner entertains his lieutenants when they come for emergency meetings. Or perhaps, this is the owner’s way of getting his children accustomed to a boardroom setting.
At the second level are a spa, mini-gym and huge executive toilet and bath. The third level is the only part of the compound with access to the garage, and it is here that all comings and goings are screened. If one were to peer over the gate into the property, one would have no idea that a member of one of the country’s most powerful families was vacationing in this house. The foyer building is a cube, articulated in ara-al stone and painted cement plaster with the same PVC framed glass windows. A koi pond with a bridge way connects the two buildings. Both buildings have elevators.
Monica Sarmiento, a 28-year old interior designer, sat at the helm of this project. Her say over the project was so great that in certain instances, she superseded the architect. Her and the owner’s concept for the house, according to her representative, was a “modern but warm log cabin that has a hotel feel.” Paper-white fields coat the ceilings, walls and floors of the ground floor. Accent walls of stained cedar half-log sidings not only mark points of emphasis, like the end wall of the living-dining area, but also provide design cues to refer to the typical American mid-western gaming log house. Citterio-inspired furniture pieces in fabric, leather and stallion hide are assembled in a straightforward composition at the living area. To keep the focus on the dining room, Sarmiento hung a stainless steel deer horn chandelier atop the center of the table, a proud creation of the interior designer herself.
The second floor is finished in stained wood veneer panels for the walls, ceramic tiles that mimic stained wood for floors, and white painted boards for the ceiling. LED pin lights were used together with halogen bulb droplights in every bedroom. Sarmiento, through her representative, confirmed to me that the bedrooms were deliberately made identical (except for the color of the bed sheets and pillows) to achieve a hotel feel. Even the master bedroom and the adjacent toilet and bath mirror the floor plans of the den at the opposite end of the floor.
According to the project managers, the house design, especially the details, evolved as construction work progressed. Changes in floor-to-floor heights were done, for instance, upon the request of the owner, when he saw that the ceiling heights did not meet his expectations. Needless to say, there was a very close collaboration between the interior designer and the owner.
The design process of this house was new to me. It offered a different perspective on how design could be approached. It is not haute architecture, to be sure. But the excellence of this project lies in the perfect management of its cost efficiency. Attention given to sound economics is obvious everywhere, from the straightforwardness of the space and activity programming, to the use of material mimicry. The house is practical and sensible. It used the best that money could buy for priority comforts (like the elevators), but saved millions by using reasonable alternatives to branded furnishings and expensive artwork. It fulfilled the aspirations of the owner; and as I have been told, he is very happy with it. In the end, that is what counts.
Maybe I should start to explore this new model of design processing. Maybe.
