Polished pale stone runs from the front door, so glossy that the tree canopy outside reappears as a reflection underfoot. Straight ahead, a glass partition edged in slim bronze frames a beaded figure of Ganesha, hung on fine threads, its marigold and saffron the strongest color in the house. Placed at the end of the entry axis, the shrine greets every guest and states the family’s faith before any furniture comes into view.
Turn, and the stair takes over. Its solid balustrade spirals upward like a folded sheet of plaster, while honey-toned oak treads step along the inner edge. A concealed LED line traces the outer wall, so after dark the whole spiral becomes one stroke of light. Looking down from the landing, the treads fan out across the gray stone in a pattern that no floor plan quite predicts.
Black-framed glazing on two sides, topped by clerestories, encloses the living room and hold mature palms, a lawn and the pool in view. Sheers fall the full height of the room. The furniture sits low so the garden stays in charge: an ivory modular sectional, swivel lounge chairs with rounded backs, a pale abstract rug and velvet cushions in a green borrowed from the leaves beyond the glass. A brass drum table and a black pedestal table add weight at the edges, and brass pendants hang over the dining table next door.
One rule governs the palette. White goes to anything sculptural; warmth goes only where hands and feet make contact. A textured metallic wallcovering lines the tallest wall of the stair hall, giving the plaster a darker surface to play against, and oak, bronze and brass are kept for treads, frames and tables.
Stand in the dining room and look back through the shrine’s glass. The white sweep of the stair rises directly behind Ganesha, and the house’s two great set pieces line up in a single view.