Take Two
05/01/2008
It might have been yet another noir Chandleresque tale of isolation, aging, internal rot and eventual collapse in Los Angeles. Bursting onto the stage in the 1980s, he’d sported the hot, the "now," the never-will-fade postmodern style—full of glass brick, supersize geometric shapes, white walls punctuated by … white walls, and cold chrome and steel signifying he was a cool customer. But the years since had not been kind. He fell out of fashion, looked older than his years and—worse—some of his bones were rapidly deteriorating. Luckily, "he" was a house, luckier still, one owned by novelist and screen and TV writer Rob Thomas and his wife, Katie.Purchased by Rob Thomas in 1998 as a lofty bachelor aerie, the house high in the Hollywood Hills had, since he and Katie’s marriage three years ago and the subsequent birth of their daughter, Greta, become a familial nest. "My business manager said I’d start with an architectural in the hills, then would get married, have kids and move to the Westside," remembers Rob Thomas. "But this renovation means we’re staying put."
The catalyst for the house’s second act? The kitchen cabinets, which, according to Rob Thomas looked like something from Ikea, were totally out of aesthetic sync with the house’s decor. But the cabinetry was only the wart on the witch’s nose, covering more profound structural ugliness. In addition to old appliances and cramped working spaces, the kitchen felt physically isolated, removed from the rest of the house, and with one small window, a little dank, very dark and cut off from the outside, too.
Enter our protagonist’s white knight, Santa Monica–based architect David Montalba. With degrees from the Southern California Institute of Architecture (SCI-Arc) and UCLA, a penchant for modernism and a contextual perspective incorporating client taste and a project’s physical setting, Montalba seemed to be just what a turnaround story might need. "There’s a danger in ar-chitecture of getting too wrapped up in just the physical building, the construction," he believes. "It’s not buildings that make great architecture, but space—how a building, or even a room, relates to space."
Montalba’s kitchen prescription came in three steps: one, physical openness; two, lots of natural light; and three, a fusion of indoors and out. Two smaller rooms, the butler’s pantry and laundry, were to be subsumed >into a much larger kitchen; exterior walls would be felled in favor of enormous retractable glass pocket doors and generous windows; the ceiling would be raised and utility ducts rerouted; and appliances would be congregated along one wall, mostly camouflaged by minimal, dark-washed oak panels that complemented the clean lines of two stone-topped double islands, one floating and one grounded.
The proposal went far beyond the cosmetic, calling for significant construction and bringing the Thomases to that crucial crossroads faced in any renovation: to go forward, or not. But not only did the couple press on—"We loved the plan and didn’t hesitate," says Rob Thomas—they progressed full steam, to the extent that upon their election to move out of the house for what became 10 months of construction, three additional rooms were added to the renovation list. The media room was updated with a flat screen fixed flush into streamlined teak custom cabinetry, and walls were lined with acoustic padding and covered in a discreet fabric lit by equally discreet sconces. Her bathroom lost its ’80s vanity lights and glass block in favor of ambient lighting, oak paneling, floating limestone shelves and a sculptural tub. And the last bastion of Thomas’s bachelorhood, the second-floor billiard room/video game center replete with a "beer ledge" (think bar counter) was replaced with—what else?—a playroom for Greta, one decorated with books and children’s literary prints collected by Katie Thomas from her days as manager of a prominent Los Angeles art gallery and bookstore focusing on storybook illustration and editorial art.
In for a penny, in for a pound, the couple also decided to repaint the interior and exterior, redo the living room’s fireplace and, to Montalba’s particular delight, reexamine the landscape, patios, gardens and pool. The changes ranged from the mundane—repairing retaining walls, creating a hidden dog run and yard—to the magical: expanding the pool’s stone surround and enhancing its lush, grottolike effect, and opening up the living-entertaining-cooking area adjacent to the kitchen. "Before, the kitchen was like a closet with one small window, and now, with the sliding-glass doors opened on the west and east walls, it flows into the yard and onto the patio, where seating, sightlines and functionality are all integrated," says Montalba. "It also greatly increased the home’s square footage of livable space."Details were not left to chance. To keep the minimal aesthetic from becoming coldly ascetic, Montalba proposed a warm, honey-colored limestone for the floor, and for furniture, a rosewood table and oak banquette. To aid the indoor-outdoor fusion, the same limestone was used on the patio. To increase coherence, the television’s backboard and wall-mounted storage credenza underneath, as well as several drawer and side veneers on the storage islands, were made in the same dark-washed oak panels found on the appliance wall. To maximize flexibility, Montalba engineered the flat screen to swivel, so it can be watched from the food preparation areas, the kitchen table, even the patio’s seating area. And to maximize flow during the Thomases’ oft-given parties, many of the decorative and architectural elements were designed for double-duty. The credenza, for example, can be easily transformed into a bar or buffet, and the outdoor staircase leading to the grassy yard can become makeshift seating, in perfect axial alignment with the kitchen’s islands and seating area.
Not that such meticulous planning didn’t leave room for the unplanned, purely serendipitous pièce de résistance—the outdoor movie "screen." As Montalba explains, "It was absolutely a surprise. We were putting in a wall for the fireplace, which is in front of a large retaining wall, discussing what to put on its surface, and Rob looked out and just saw it." It now serves as a theater under the stars.
Apparently in Hollywood, rehabilitations (a.k.a. renovations) can take hold, making for gripping second acts and very happy endings.
Montalba Architects, 310.828.1100, www.montalbaarchitects.com