At first glance the hero of a modern new home in Southampton, Long Island, might be architect Blaze Makoid. But the unsung heroes here are landscape architects from LaGuardia Design Group— along with interior architects Halliday Greer. Makoid’s design rises 10 feet above grade, a glassy gem on a barrier island overlooking the Atlantic Ocean to the south and Shinnecock Bay to the north.

The clients purchased their five-and-a-half-acre lot with zoning already approved, locking in the home’s size and location. That presented the designers with both challenges and opportunities. “We knew that if we had to go back with anything that changed it, that would kick the project back to square one,” Makoid says.

It was prescribed for six bedrooms, but the clients wanted 11, anticipating the eventual return of three children, post-college, with grandchildren. So the architect designed a series of suites—each with a bedroom for parents and another for children.

Then there was the entertainment question. “They’ll have really large groups of 20, 30, or 40 people over,” he says. “The expanding dining table seats 60.” The landscape architects shaped the ocean side to accommodate guests. “There’s a whole slew of seating areas outside,” he says. “On move-in day, we counted over 80 seats.”

That was just a finishing touch. It came only after LaGuardia already had reconstructed the landscape around the home. “We reimagined that property, regraded it, replaned it, and ripped out non-native plants,” Chris LaGuardia says.

A 1980s house of no real significance was taken down. Its north side had been one big driveway, with a lawn leading to the distant bay. A lower level was dominated by a freshwater-loving, cattail-like weed called phragmite, growing over clogged culverts. “The big part was to restore the wetlands to a tidal marsh,” says Daniel Tharp, partner in the firm.

They unclogged culverts, cut back weeds, and planted native grasses over a couple of acres of wetlands. “Saltwater infiltrates the culvert today,” he says. “We introduced some pollinator perennials like flowering milkweed, marshmallow, and joe-pye weed for bees and butterflies.”

On the ocean side, a series of compromised sand dunes offered their own challenge. Ragged and uneven, they were at the point of collapse. The designers approached village and state officials, who gave permission to reshape the site.

They removed a 15-foot-tall elevated bridge, 300 feet long, that once served as a walkway to the beach. Replacing it with a sandy dune walk, they began reshaping the rest of the area between house and beach. “There are terracing and subtle lifts in grade— we were restoring the natural contours,” LaGuardia says.

From the house to the pool, and then down to the beach, the landscape is now carefully punctuated with visitor-friendly spaces. Reshaped planes and new vegetation accommodate them, for seating areas where large and small groups gather. Around the house, the landscape architects planted maritime species, like those on the dunes, for a seamless setting.

Back on the bay side, the designers raised the approach to the house up off the natural grade, without stairs. The path to the front door is created from layers of two-to-three slabs of Valders limestone atop one another, eschewing steps and handrails. “We used the landscape to get to the front door softly,” Makoid says.

He used a different limestone, Chanteuil Jaune Bleu, to clad the building, along with black-stained cedar for a Japanese shou sugi ban look, one that reaches into the interior too. “Blaze was integrating the interior with the exterior,” says David Greer, principal in Halliday Greer Interior Architecture. “It’s a classic modernist approach, designed so it wraps around the house and comes inside as well.”

This is the seventh project for this client by Greer and his partner Andrew Halliday. Greer is an architect by training; Halliday is a designer and former actor on the London stage. They both have exquisite taste; here, the pair took on the role of consulting designers for all interiors.

“Our design intent is to want things to be timeless, not designed toward trends,” Greer says. “It’s a blend of classic, modern, and contemporary. We try to create a space where you do it right the first time and never do it again.” That’s an attitude shared by all the designers for this house in the most exclusive neighborhood in the Hamptons.

And it paid off in spades. On approach from the bay side, views shoot straight through, out to the ocean. From the interior, the eye is drawn back toward the bay, the driveway hidden from sight. “It’s an optical illusion,” Makoid says. “You only see the water and the sun.”

That’s no accident. Rather, it’s one more heroic gesture from a team of architects, landscape architects, and interior designers, all aimed at aligning this home with its site.

When interior designer Allison Babcock set her sights on her own new waterfront home, she relished the chance to sit at both sides of the worktable, as client and designer. 

“It was exciting and intimidating,” says Babcock, principal of Allison Babcock Design in Sag Harbor, New York. Like so many homeowners, she had a timeline, a budget, and many ideas from her family to sift through. But thanks to her intuitive sense of design and how it relates to architecture, she and her family love the house and its potential to evolve over time.

Overlooking Morris Cove in the Hamptons, Babcock’s home reflects the easy livability of the interiors that she designs for her clients, with a focus on comfort and color palettes that jibe with the tremendous views. The mix of vintage and new furnishings, artworks, enticing colors and fabrics, and abundant ocean views, bathed in soft sunlight and shadows, is perfectly at ease.

Inner reflection has long been a springboard for Babcock. “I started by osmosis,” she says. Growing up in Charlottesville, Virginia, surrounded by the influence of Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello and other classic architecture, she felt a spark early on. “As a girl I was constantly rearranging my room,” she says. She eventually worked with the Richmond, Virginia, designer Nan McVey, and thoroughly learned her craft with Cullman & Kravis in New York City.

Reflections of her rich background pop up throughout Babcock’s home, which she shares with husband Luke and their two teenage daughters. In the first-floor open living area is a striking vignette of a 1960s teak console, 1970s cork lamp, and a painting by the Vietnamese artist Le Than Son, all topped by a whimsical chandelier from Moooi Lighting. More soft sunlight spills from the adjoining French doors, where lush ferns provide their own deep color. On the other side of the house are views of Morris Cove, part of Upper Sag Harbor Cove.

“I migrate toward more transitional and minimalist; cleaner lines and fewer things,” Babcock says of her philosophy. “We’re bombarded with messages all day long. I like the home to be quiet and restful.” She has long been attracted to barns and small farmhouses: the coziness, simplicity, and lack of pretense. 

Her own home, designed in collaboration with the architect Blaze Makoid of nearby Bridgehampton, along with local builder Greg D’Angelo, is a modern take on a barn, with three rectangular structures topped by a pitched roof and centered with a courtyard. The house is a fit with the Hamptons’ laid-back mood and outdoor lifestyle. “I really appreciate natural light, bringing the outdoors inside,” Babcock says. In fact, she and her family rarely need to turn on lights during the daytime.

One prime gathering spot on the first floor is the kitchen, with an island and countertops of Jet Mist Granite with a honed finish. A divider separates the kitchen from the dining room and cunningly hides any kitchen mess. It also serves as a niche for cookbooks. Curtainless windows shed just the right amount of light. Throughout the house, white oak flooring and cabinetry, and walls painted in Calm by Benjamin Moore, create a tranquil background. 

The adjoining dining room is anchored with a table by Rotsen Design in Miami. The table’s single walnut slab sits on an acrylic base, appearing to float. When the Babcocks have a party, the chairs, from the online marketplace 1stDibs, are easily moved. Upstairs, two bedrooms and Babcock’s office are tucked off a hallway lined with family photos.

The yard is filled with low-maintenance plantings, including evergreens, ferns, boxwood, and Japanese switchgrass. Sweet box shrubs scent the air in springtime. Separating the front of the house from the backyard and the pool is a slatted gate that casts bands of light and shadows.

Indoors and out, Babcock mostly wanted her family’s Sag Harbor home to be welcoming. “We live a very active life,” she says. “I needed the house to be low maintenance, clean looking, and relaxed, without it being a lot of work. I don’t believe in things being absolutely perfect. That would be very hard to live with.”

For more information, visit allisonbabcock.com

Tim Davis knows a thing or two about Hamptons real estate. A lifetime Hamptons resident, he’s one of the top brokers in the region after selling real estate there for more than four decades. Recently, the Wall Street Journal ranked Davis as the top real estate agent in the Hamptons, and tenth in the country. He’s brokered 38 transactions on the ocean in Southampton alone. 

Davis has negotiated more than $4 billion in sales over his career. His priciest sale clocked in at $137 million, and he’s sold such distinctive properties as Wooldon Manor in Southampton, owned by Gilded Age tycoons like the Woolworths and Edmund Lynch of Merrill Lynch and once considered the most opulent estate in the Hamptons. He’s also twice sold Westerly, a Southampton Georgian estate, most recently in 2010 for around $40 million to its current owner, fashion designer Tory Burch.

Davis himself lives with his family in a modest Southampton cottage. “I’m often inspired by what I see on the market,” he told Cottages & Gardens in 2016. “It was intentional not to build a mansion for ourselves. We wanted to build a home that we could live in and stay in for many, many years.”

Below, Davis chats about some of his favorite career highlights, market predictions, and why the Hamptons are such a sought-after location.

Why did you decide to become a real estate agent?  Sales have been my passion since an early age. I had close family ties in the Hamptons, and it was a natural career start for selling real estate. That was 42 years ago.

You’re a lifelong Hamptons resident, right? What do you love about where you live? The natural beauty is by far the most interesting factor for living in the Hamptons. The ocean, the bays, various other waterways. Big open sky views and incredible light. It’s what brought the artists to paint here and the wealthy summer set to build seaside mansions.   

How has work changed for you since the start of the pandemic? Initially, there was an “I must buy” thought process. New inventory everywhere and anywhere moved off the shelves. That turned to “We need to buy.” Knowing that the pandemic may continue or return in some form in the future, it makes sense to own an escape from urban settings for one’s health and safety. Now we are dealing with “we want to buy,” decisions made about lifestyle and the ability to work from home offices for many businesses. Why not live in the Hamptons full-time?

Do you have any predictions for the Hamptons housing market for the rest of 2022? Do you think the housing boom will continue? Do you think the Hamptons can handle a continued influx of new residents? I believe that our market will continue to remain strong throughout the year. The lack of inventory is a challenge we are managing with serious sellers. As for “infrastructure and influx of new residents,” that all seems to be being managed on all levels.

What do you consider one of your career’s biggest accomplishments? Being an owner of the luxury boutique real estate firm Allan M. Schneider Associates and selling to NRT/Corcoran in August of 2006.

Any advice for buyers and/or sellers right now? Seasoned brokers have historical knowledge and market data relative to trends and dealing with the ups, downs, and pauses of the Hamptons market.

What is one of the most interesting or unique properties you’ve ever sold? Wooldon Manor in Southampton. An oceanfront estate comprising fifteen acres for $75 million and 6 months later for $83 million.

What’s the priciest listing you’ve ever sold? $137,000,000 but that is a long story…  

What’s one of the most historical properties you’ve ever sold? Westerly, a 15,000-square-foot Georgian estate on over fifteen acres, once in 1991 and again in 2010.

Any properties currently listed that you’re particularly excited about right now? A spectacular oceanfront home in Montauk along Old Montauk Highway listed at $22.5 million. The house sits just above the sand with a pool and sensational coastline views. Thierry Despont was the designer on the renovation in 2010/2011. Also, an amazing 10-acre oceanfront site with 550 feet of frontage and access to Shinnecock Bay listed at $75 million. 

For more information, visit timdavishamptons.com

Set back from the sand dunes and flanked by magnolia trees, the farmhouse on eastern Long Island seems like it’s been there since the 1700s. The weathered gray clapboards and shingles adorning a modified saltbox, the converted barn near the street, the old agrarian acreage recast in rustic elegance—every element is a chapter in the property’s generations-old story.

But the story, as it turns out, is deeply researched historical fiction. When a previous client of Ferguson & Shamamian Architects approached the SoHo-headquartered firm about building a home on a long narrow site in East Hampton, they wanted a place that would accommodate several generations of extended family, take advantage of the views out to the dunes and the Atlantic beyond, and, even though it was a brand-new residence, fit into its surroundings by representing the past it might have had. 

“It was really about how to create a set of buildings that resemble an 18th-century East End farmhouse, and show that this farmhouse had expanded and grown over time and taken on different characters along its history,” says Stephen Chrisman, the architect who led the design of the project and a partner who’s been with Ferguson & Shamamian Architects since 1995.

Collaborating with the homeowners as well as interior designer Michael S. Smith and landscape architect Arne Maynard, Chrisman’s team pored over old Historic American Buildings Survey documentation of East End homes and barns; explored the historic structures at East Hampton’s John Howard Payne Home, Sweet Home museum; and took detailed notes, right down to measuring the widths of the window panes and the clapboards. “We’re not glib about this: We want it to look authentic,” Chrisman says. “I try to imagine the guests coming in and saying, ‘Wow, you did a great job renovating this old house,’ while the owners just smile.”

Off a quiet road, the house comes into view at the end of a pebble pathway, a one-and-a-half-story center block with pedimented dormers that connects to a series of single-story wings. Modeled on the local Amagansett farmhouse, the exterior tells the rambling home’s fictive narrative with subtlety: smaller panes on the windows of the “historic” portion, marginally larger panes in the “new” additions, thin clapboards straight from the 1700s on the main structure, shingles on the wings that could have been from the early 20th century. “Even though at first glance it’s all weathered cedar, it evolves,” Chrisman says. On a rectilinear guest suite in the westernmost portion of the main residence, a stone exterior gracefully blends several types of New York fieldstone, punctuated with a granite lintel spanning the width of the window—the final design choice, after mason Bruce O’Brien happily put together several mockups, each with different stones and mortar joints.

Within the home’s center block, magnificent exposed trusses and crossbeams run through the high ceilings of the great room, the space where guests gather for dinner and conversation. Pockets notched into the reclaimed timbers suggest the home once had a second floor that was removed; in reality, the pockets were created to sustain the narrative. “Architecturally, we were pretty serious about analyzing how big an 18th-century summer beam is, how big the notches are, and how far apart the joists are spaced,” Chrisman says. 

The rear façade takes a slightly different approach. Below shed-style dormers, triple-hung windows without muntins—a feature that might have been the handiwork of a 20th-century homeowner, though Chrisman notes the windows share similarities with Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello—look out over the backyard and past the shoreline. At the foot of the dining pergola, a pool extends like it’s reaching out to the ocean.

Near the road, the six-bedroom guest residence has the doors and timbers of a barn that’s been converted into living quarters, with simple interiors, wood floors, and solid vertical posts. (“There’s a nice whitewash treatment,” Chrisman says. “It still maintains the rustic characteristics, but there’s a clean feel to it, so it doesn’t feel like you’re sleeping in an old barn: you’re sleeping in a converted barn.”) On the lawn outside, an orchard of old crabapple trees grows in a grid with selective blank spots—the places where, in the imagined history of the home, trees would have died off over time. Throughout the grounds, Arne Maynard’s landscape design weaves in beech trees, box hedges, vines climbing fence posts, and a host of features that complement the manmade structures. “Oftentimes, landscapes take a long time to grow in, but Arne was able to bring in larger specimen trees, and his sensibility instantly makes things feel like they belong there and have been there,” Chrisman says. 

Several years later, the yarn of the East Hampton home continues. Everything feels natural. Nothing feels contrived. With the clapboards and shingles establishing their own, different shades of grey, the farmhouse has the presence of a place that’s earned its seniority. “The story,” Chrisman says, “still holds up.”  

For more information, visit fergusonshamamian.com

Having recently completed renovations, the owners of this Southampton, New York, summer home presented Elizabeth Gill with a beautiful, blank canvas to decorate. Taking cues from the contemporary architecture and dazzling water view, Gill created a modern retreat that invites relaxation. The vibe is both sophisticated and comfortable. “It’s an elevated take on a family home,” the designer says. 

The house captivates from the first step into the foyer, which stretches straight back to the beach. Above, the barrel vaulted, double-height wood ceiling adds a church-like aura. “The space is grand, but spiritual,” Gill says. A Belgian, looped wool sisal runner leads the eye past a mature fiddle leaf fig, through tall glass doors, to the water. A bench with a rush seat and a sculptural, black iron console anchor the front of the hall, providing practicality without distraction. 

An expansive, two-story living space with slanted ceilings punctuated by rustic wood beams runs along the back of the house. A double row of oversize, plate-glass windows offers a seamless connection to the outdoors, where a sun-bleached wood deck and rosa rugosa run parallel to the house, just a few steps from the beach. Gill’s monochromatic scheme, like the landscape, is tranquil, textural, and timeless. “The design stems from the property itself,” Gill explains. 

A creamy wool rug defines the seating area. “The larger the rug, the larger the space feels, so we went as big as we could,” Gill says. When selecting furniture, the designer balanced clean, contemporary lines with ease and comfort. She also stuck with neutrals. “We created excitement by varying shape, texture, and scale,” she says.

The centerpiece is a deep sofa upholstered in a tweedy, tone-on-tone neutral stripe. Its mitered side panels offer a touch of traditional luxury that holds the room; it’s juxtaposed with open-backed mod swivel chairs. The other sofa, done in cozy, ivory chenille, sits quietly against an ash console that adds warmth. “I don’t use bright white because it’s too austere,” Gill says. “I prefer warm whites, ivory, creams, and soft grays.”

In the dining area, midcentury modern–style tulip chairs surround a rectilinear table with a grayed oak top and a black metal base that refers back to the iron console in the foyer. “The pedestal base lets you fit in more seats, and the chairs are easy-to-clean,” Gill notes. Behind the table, a shagreen bar cabinet teases with a hint of glamour. 

Off to the left in the kitchen, Gill chose another classic midcentury modern silhouette: curvy, molded plywood counter stools. That the walnut veneer differs from the wood tone of the cabinetry is by design. “It’s hard to match a wood finish; it can just look like you missed,” she says. “Here you get walnut on the surface, and a nice contrast of lighter plywood sides.” 

Gill goes a touch more subdued in the den with walls painted Behr Flannel Gray and marine blue accents. Again, she mixes shapes for interest. An upholstered chair with neotenic undertones is playful, as are the hexagonal ottomans, while the sleeper sofa with nailhead trim keeps the room grounded. Although the sofa is plenty plush, the big, round swivel is the seat of choice on family movie nights. “This is where everyone wants to sit,” Gill says.

Gill injected more color in the kids’ room. “The clients don’t love color, but this room needed it,” the designer says. Urbane artwork in rainbow hues enlivens ice blue walls, a shade that repeats in the throw pillows and flecked wool rug. “I wanted to complement the rest of the house, so we did soft, cool colors with brighter pops,” Gill says. 

In the primary bedroom, Gill reverts to the home’s signature creamy palette. The aerie is a bit earthier than the public spaces, however, thanks to the couple’s raw mango wood bed and nightstands. Gill accentuated the organic feel with a tree trunk side table beside a lounge-y, iron-framed chair, and a large, lush snake plant that reinforces the vertical windows that look to the bay.

The room also boasts access to an asymmetrical mezzanine, dubbed the “reflection zone,” that overlooks the water on one side and the foyer and living space on the other. A pair of softly rounded swivel chairs with pleated backs is a favorite spot for morning coffee or a glass of wine. A stylized figure in lotus position sits on a low table. That the dark, angular form draws the eye upon entering the home is, like everything else, absolutely intentional. “It sets the tone that it’s time to unwind and relax,” she says. “You’re not in the city anymore.” 

For more information, visit elizabethgillinteriors.com

In architect Steven Harris’s opinion, there are two schools of thought when it comes to living at the beach. “Some people do exactly what they would have done in town,” he says. “They may never even step foot on the beach.” On the other hand, and more in line with Harris’s ethos, there are those who wholeheartedly embrace their proximity to the ocean, the more relaxed rhythm of their days, and a laid-back approach to entertaining. This would describe the clients for whom he redesigned an existing house on the east end of Long Island to better suit their easy-going, connected-to-nature lifestyle. 

First, Harris and his team at Steven Harris Architects moved the house closer to the ocean and reoriented it parallel to the shoreline. Under the direction of landscape designer David Kelly of Rees Roberts + Partners, they added a stunning zero-edge pool and refurbished the landscape so that the house appears nestled into the dunes amid native plantings. Hollies, oaks, serviceberries and other newly planted indigenous shrubs camouflage the piles, which were built to raise the original house after flooding in 2012. “We used this extra height to our advantage and designed a new house within the existing shell,” says Harris.

Like many houses in this area of Long Island, the layout is upside-down from what we are traditionally used to, with all the bedrooms but the master at ground level and the public rooms—communal living, dining, and kitchen—on the second floor, situated up high to capture the views of sea and dunes. The only interruption to the open-concept space is a single floating partition between the breakfast room and the living room that, unless you utilize its pocket doors, still allows easy circulation in that important gathering area.

From here, large sliding doors open directly onto an all-weather screened porch along the east, ocean-facing side of the building. And making the ultimate connection between the living area, the porch, and the outdoors, 14 folding windows from HeartWood Fine Windows and Doors stretch horizontally end to end. When folded upward, the window openings are almost twice as large as traditional double-hung. The notable absence of mullions makes the inside-outside separation melt away. As a result, says Harris, “It’s a screened porch when the windows are open, an enclosed room when they’re closed.”

On the lower level, an identical screened porch with a band of windows echoing those directly above them has doors that open to the deck and pool, areas designed spatially to achieve a trompe l’oeil effect between where the water of the pool ends and the ocean begins. Not only is the pool water in the same plane as the deck, it is also as close in color to the ocean as Kelly’s team could get it, using a Wet Edge finish of ground-down pebbles. “We wanted the colors to be similar, so your eye skips across the pool water, across the dune, and then out to the ocean,” says Kelly.

Engaging with the pool and deck at this level are five bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. “One of the great joys of living at the beach is sleeping on the porch and hearing the ocean,” says Harris, who, having grown up in a large, extended family that enjoyed a seaside house in Florida, knows of which he speaks. “With this house, we wanted the rooms on the lower floor to have that opportunity.”

No matter where you choose to be—inside or outside the house, or on one of the porches—there are no “secondhand spaces,” says Harris. “Every room in the house is desirable and has a really wonderful use.” His goal, he adds, was “to make it a house that would accommodate the everyday rituals of life at the beach”—entertaining and eating outside or inside, having a drink on the rooftop terrace with pizza from the wood-fired oven, swimming for recreation or exercise, playing tennis, sitting by the fireplace and watching a movie. “There’s very little hierarchy in terms of what is a formal space and what is an informal space. It’s all pretty continuous and intended to be used equally.”

The same unifying philosophy and deference to the view underly the interiors of the house, designed by Lucien Rees Roberts. “The palette is very restrained and quiet because essentially you have a 70-foot-long painting of the ocean on one side and you don’t want to detract from that,” says Harris. The color palette is complementary to the tones found in nature along the dunes, and rich, comfortable, and durable materials like wood and stone are used liberally in the classically modern home.

“We chose many pieces for their timeless, casual sensibility,” says Rees Roberts. “The client wanted people to be able to sit in any chair in a wet bathing suit and not worry. All fabrics we selected needed to meet this requirement, and the wonderful exterior-grade fabrics now available allowed us to do this. An Eames chair, for example, is covered in a soft, durable Perennials fabric.” 

Applying his firsthand understanding of how to live your best life at the beach, Harris has achieved a goal that is near and dear to him. “You want your house to be simple, comfortable, obliging,” he says. “The ability of a house to allow that kind of ease is really important.” 

For more information, visit stevenharrisarchitects.com; reesroberts.com; heartwoodwindowsanddoors.com.

Anyone who’s ever acquired a summer house has this request: that it be completed by the start of the season. The notion of complete, however, can vary. For the owners of this Shingle style custom home designed by architect David Neff in Quogue, complete meant every last detail in place, inside and out. This included a thoughtful collection of art. 

Katharine Earnhardt, founder of Mason Lane Art Advisory, had worked with the clients, a professional couple with two young boys, to build a collection for their TriBeCa loft, so she wasn’t exactly starting from scratch. “We looked at that artwork, which is vibrant and urban contemporary, to determine what we would do differently,” Earnhardt says. “In Quogue, they wanted a softer palette, fewer hard edges, and nothing metallic.” 

Guided by the couple’s tastes and the overall scheme that interior designer Jennifer Garrigues presented, Earnhardt assembled a 40-plus piece collection with an ephemeral, not too serious feel. “I never want the art to match the throw pillows, but I’m not there to create a new vision either,” Earnhardt says. “I’m there to further the vision and make the design shine.” 

That design, Garrigues says, is “clean, but not minimalistic, very child-friendly, and with a touch of simple glamour.” There’s lots of white, as befits a beach house, with plenty of blue, a color that both wife and husband love. “The house feels very open,” she says. “There are no mad, large-scale prints, but every room has a punch.” 

Blue makes its mark from the start, with a fun, navy Dutch door and a white pitted iron bench upholstered in performance fabric with a mosaic-like pattern. Earnhardt subtly reinforces the decor and the coastal locale with Mike Solomon’s hypnotic painting made from watercolor on papers infused in resin that resembles reflections of water. “As the light changes, hexagons appear and disappear,” Earnhardt says. “It’s very dynamic and sets the tone without being a literal or cliché landscape which was very important to us.” 

Just off the entry in the living room, whitewashed wall boards and a jute rug with a topstitched stripe establishes a neutral backdrop for crisp white sofas, tactile navy accents, and a hint of glimmer from a hammered metal drinks table with an iridescent shell top. Rather than add a piece that could be perceived as nautical, Earnhardt went for a composition of frolicsome forms reminiscent of Matisse’s cut-outs. The artwork by Paige Kalena Follmann counterbalances the room’s symmetry while echoing its airiness. Earnhardt also points to how the bits of black bolstering the room’s design. “Contrast helps a room feel energized and alive,” she says. 

In the adjacent sunroom-turned-dining room, the art goes quiet so as not to distract from the antique Chinese buffet. Still, its layered mix of media—ink, silk, and beeswax on panel—ensures that Eric Blum’s abstract isn’t invisible. Earnhardt’s juxtaposition of contemporary against historic aligns perfectly with Garrigues’ approach. “I design like I throw a cocktail party, mixing the older generation with the younger one,” Garrigues says. 

While one set of French doors opens to a covered porch, another pair leads to a languid green guest suite. Here, the art embraces the room’s hue. “It’s a hard color to work with if you’re fighting against it,” Earnhardt explains. A magical landscape photograph by Petros Koublis hangs over a Balinese-inspired canopy bed, providing a window to an otherworldly forest beset by fireflies. The choice adheres to Earnhardt’s practice of using less pricey pieces in secondary rooms and simultaneously broadens the spectrum of media and subject matter. 

Earnhardt follows suit on the other side of the house by inserting a pair of llama prints in the playroom and a humorous piece portraying stick figures swimming in an upstairs guest bedroom with a view of the pool. “Diversity of media, subject matter, and style is important,” she says. 

On the second level landing, Eugene Healey’s abstracted, cerulean seascape with collaged strips of fabric lures people up the stairs. Its palette speaks to the couple’s love of blue while the medium injects textured richness into the spare space, as does the antique Chinese console table and glazed ceramic lamps. “It’s simple, but there’s a patina,” Garrigues says of the tableau. Earnhardt adds, “If this were a catch-all place with clutter, I’d have chosen more streamlined art.” 

Down the hall, Garrigues created a serene primary bedroom suite where a white, nailhead-studded upholstered bed stretches out like a cloud against the chambray-colored grasscloth-covered walls. Karine Leger’s organic gems in dusky colors draw the eye up to the penny board paneled ceiling. Like the mathematically-influenced ombre oil painting by Nicky Broekhuysen over the dresser, Legere’s commission offers softness with a layered effect. And, as with so many other pieces in the collection, Earnhardt achieves her goal. “These works refer to what’s happening in nature without being a blatant reference.” 

Architect: David Neff Architect, davidneffarchitect.com 
Interior designer: Jennifer Garrigues, jennifergarrigues.com 
Art consultant: Mason Lane Art Advisory, masonlaneart.com 
Builder: Hamptons Habitat Fine Homebuilding, hamptonshabitat.com 
Landscape designer: Elliott Templeton Landscape Design, templetonlandscape.com

Looking to build a retreat on Long Island in the early 1970s, one man was drawn to the remote, sparsely populated East End where he could stretch his legs on beach constitutionals, fish to unwind, and tend his vegetable garden, all while basking in the peace and quiet so welcome after the frenzy of Manhattan.

Family lore has it that he wanted nothing fancier than a shack in the dunes, and while the house—designed by up-and-coming modernist architect Norman Jaffe—was grander than that, its occupants made sure that the spirit of the abode remained humble. Since then, the man’s children, grandchildren, and now great-grandchildren have enjoyed easygoing summers and holidays at the vacation home, restoring it with an ever-deepening ethos enriched by family history.

And so, when the 3,500-square-foot heirloom house desperately needed renovating 35 years after construction, the task was assigned, fittingly, to Asher Israelow, a grandson of the original owner completing his final year of architecture at RISD. Several established and prominent architects were under consideration for the commission, but Israelow offered something more valuable to the project than an elaborate portfolio.

“The house is a living exhibition, curated by four generations of family holidays and summer weekends,” says Israelow, now an architectural and bespoke furniture designer based in Western Massachusetts. With fellow RISD architecture student Robert Highsmith, he presented his parents (his mother, a sculptor, is the original owner’s daughter) with a formal proposal that convincingly addressed the pivotal question as he saw it: “How do you fix a house that no longer functions but maintain the language of the original architect so that it feels the same?”

Geometric lines, neutral woods, modernist detailing and attention to natural light and shadow are all hallmarks of homes designed by Jaffe, who headed up a practice in Bridgehampton that lasted from 1967 until his untimely death in 1993. Touted by some as a “true romantic” and “an uncompromising genius in the vein of Frank Lloyd Wright,” Jaffe, says Israelow, was “a bit more of a beachside maverick and under-credited” compared to his better-known contemporaries, like Charles Gwathmey and Richard Meier. He created and developed a personal aesthetic for the more than 800 homes he designed—55 in the East End alone—ranging from weekend hideaways to summer estates, all of which blended into the landscape.

“What I realized about a lot of Jaffe’s work was not only his attention to materials and to the sculptural gestures but also his attention to proportions,” explains Israelow. “If you change the proportions too much it starts to change the character of the building. We had to see how far we could push it without breaking the character.” 

This is where renewal came into lockstep with restoration. All the windows were replaced, the kitchen and bedrooms enlarged, the bathrooms updated, and clever ways devised to bring more light into dark parts of the house—all fairly standard home renovations. Not typical, however, was the degree to which the building had to be brought up to myriad modern building and safety codes, such as raising the house by five feet to meet new FEMA codes.

“Because architecture had changed so much over those 40 years, the renovation was almost surgical at some points,” says Israelow, explaining that even though the house was stripped down to the studs, the footprint was altered very little.  “We ended up expanding the house by four feet but did it in such a way that you couldn’t really tell.” Indeed, before and after photographs of the monolithic, vertical-cedar clad house are startlingly similar. “The façade was entirely sacred,” says Israelow.

The expansion of the house was rooted in the kitchen. “The design was terrible and it didn’t function very well,” says Israelow. To accommodate the family of passionate foodies who spend their time cooking together, substantial upgrades were made. “My family loves to cook and [the original] kitchen was designed more for someone who was setting out a plate of hors d’oeuvres.” 

Certain interior details reveal the lengths to which Israelow went preserving the integrity of design. The original marble dining table and kitchen counters were recreated using material from the same quarry, perfectly aligned to the initial design, but tailored to the enlarged space.  “Although the shape of the dining room changed, all the other details were materially and even aesthetically the same, so you could barely notice any difference,” says Israelow. “It was just a larger, more gracious space.”

But then there were instances where contemporary materials needed to replace those from 40 years ago, like in the kitchen, where the white laminate cabinetry from the 70s ceded its place to German-designed Bulthaup cabinetry that is similar aesthetically but has a cleaner, more modern look. In the same vein, Israelow liked the look of pickled white oak floors in the original house but not how they had taken on a greenish cast over time. In the renovation, the considerable evolution in contemporary finishes proved advantageous to the lightened white oak used for floors and walls. 

The upstairs living room hearth posed a totally different challenge. Israelow speculates that the square black slate tile used for the hearth was his grandfather’s decision, not that of Jaffe, who more likely would have created something sculptural and monolithic out of fieldstone. By replacing the small tiles with large pieces of bluestone, says Israelow, “We created a fireplace in the spirit of Jaffe, imagining what he would have designed today.”

Finding ways to enhance the existing house without diminishing its character was ever present in Israelow’s mind. The downstairs living room with a ceiling height lower than eight feet benefitted greatly by raising the house. Previously a “dark and oppressive space to be in,” notes Israelow, now, with the house elevated and the living room floor lowered, the 16-foot window walls finally allowed sunlight and ocean air to circulate, pulling the natural landscape into the first floor.” 

Preserving Jaffe’s legacy drove the project aesthetically but Israelow made sure that he and Highsmith had room to play. Nowhere is that more apparent than in the new pool house, where, says Israelow, “We wanted to do something that aligned with the existing architecture of the main house, not compete with it, but at the same time define our own language. We designed the entire thing almost like a piece of furniture, where every single material seam lined up. We really wanted it to feel like a little glowing jewel box on the other end of the pool.” 

A coffee table in the pool house repurposed from the main house represents an overarching desire to reuse as much of the existing furniture as possible, both to ensure aesthetic continuity and to keep the generational family narrative alive. Israelow’s mother’s art pieces, from her college days to the present, are placed throughout the home.

“Part of her story is living in this house and has been brought into the renovation,” notes Israelow, who credits his mother’s penchant for natural materials and grand sculptural gestures and her “inherent material brilliance” for some of the home’s biggest aesthetic achievements, like the exquisite retractable screen separating the kitchen from the dining room and the one-ton bathtub carved out of a solid piece of dense limestone. She was also the inspiration for Israelow designing and building every bed in the house.

When the house was first built in the early 1970s, sustainability was far from the hot-button issue it is today. In the renovation, Israelow tried to incorporate construction standards that would make the building as energy efficient as possible, such as installing solar panels on the roof, passive water, and geothermal for the heating of the pool, pool house, and main house. “We also tried to make it as locally sourced as possible,” he says.

Although this is the story of one particular, beloved family home, Israelow’s sights are set on a more universal goal. “There are a lot of extraordinary masterworks here by young architects who eventually became extremely famous,” he says. “I’m hoping that there will be more restoration and attention given to the history and context of this architecture, which is the first on the East Coast to define this new version of modernism.” 

For more information, visit asherisraelow.com.

In residential architecture, the relationship between house and landscape—between indoors and outdoors—is never more important than in a vacation home. These houses are where families go to relax, to get away from what they do every day at work or school, to entertain guests, and to reconnect with each other. And it typically happens in the warmer months, when people feel the urge to spend as much time outside basking in nature as possible. 

In North Haven, New York, a couple with three children decided to build a secondary house where they could do all of that. They brought on architect Blaze Makoid of Blaze Makoid Architecture of Bridgehampton, New York, interior designer David Scott of David Scott Interiors in New York City, and landscape architect Edmund Hollander of Hollander Design Landscape Architects of New York and Chicago, who all worked together to design a special seasonal house that not only fits the family’s lifestyle but also the house’s location. 

“When they pulled up to the house, they wanted to see the water,” says Makoid about what drove the overall plan. “They wanted to know when they arrived why they chose that property.” So, he designed the central living room to be “a two-sided glass box so you can see right through to the bay.” Glass panels open up both sides, making the entire area feel like a large courtyard that the rest of the house circulates around. 

And the rest of the house? It packs a big punch. After three years of designing and building within the limited footprint that was allowed, it was finished. There are seven bedrooms, seven bathrooms, three powder rooms, a kitchen, dining room, living room, family room, and an office all in 7,500 square feet surrounded by Hollander’s landscape, which incorporates native plantings and stretches of lawn.

The first-level spaces are geared for easy circulation and indoor/outdoor connections, while the second floor, made up of mostly bedrooms and a roof deck, is for entertaining lots of guests. In the primary bedroom suite, the view across the bay with Shelter Island to the north and Sag Harbor to the east is optimized with a glass corner that opens to a private balcony, where there’s an outdoor fireplace and an exterior private staircase that leads down to the pool and hottub area. On the other side of this suite, the house’s main staircase, made of curved glass and Venetian plaster that extends to the ceiling, anchors the interior as an impressive visual element. 

Despite all this, Scott says, “The most interesting thing about the house is that it is not intimidating. It’s compact with a lot of details and it exudes quality.”

“We spent a lot of time with our clients on the palette of the materials, what would be durable and consistent,” says Makoid about the limestone panels, teak cladding, and metal panels used outside. Since the relationship between the outside and inside is so strong, these materials are found inside as well. In the dining room, for example, teak that clads the outside comes in and wraps interior walls, and a Venetian plaster ceiling is both outside and inside.

For the interior design, Scott says, “They wanted something that was elegant but livable and quite contemporary.” He developed a color scheme from a photograph he took during his travels in Patagonia. “That’s how the design process works a lot of the time—those kernels of inspiration, whatever they may be, can be strong parts of how we create the color scheme and guide our furniture selections,” says Scott.

In this case, white, beige, and golden tones were mostly used to evoke that Patagonian landscape, with bright teal accents suggesting a brilliant river. Within this palette, “Most of the furnishings are contemporary and I curated the entire art collection for this house,” says Scott, pointing out the Charles Ramos armchairs in the living room, a Bert Stern Marilyn photograph in the office, and a Murano vintage eight-tiered smoked glass chandelier above that central staircase.

A typical Saturday for this family involves waking up, grabbing breakfast, going out for a run, a swim, a bike ride, or a tee time, and then gathering back at the house to relax and be together with whatever friends and family members are visiting. This house supports that lifestyle while also being stylish and deeply connected with nature. “We wanted to dissolve the idea of being inside or outside,” says Makoid. “We wanted to make every space in the project occupiable.” And when it’s full of people during the summer or for a weekend holiday, every space is.

For more inspiration, visit blazemakoid-architecture.com; davidscottinteriors.com; hollanderdesign.com.

New York-based interior designer Vicente Wolf arranges his schedule by the seasons of the year. 

In the summer, he does apartments in Manhattan. During the winter, he tackles homes in the Hamptons. “It’s great having a house in Montauk,” he says. “If I go out there on a Thursday or Friday, I go to the project first, and then to my house—it’s a visit along the way.” 

He’s been practicing for more than 40 years now, designing between 25 to 30 projects in the Hamptons. His most recent is the renovation of a 2,200 square-foot house built in the 1980s on Moriches Bay in Westhampton. He did it for a New York couple for whom he’s worked on two previous projects. 

“We’ve known each other for 5,000 years,” he says. “When you work with some people, you do the job and that’s it. And then some become friends—like these did.” 

The couple bought their home from a builder 38 years ago, using it mostly as a weekend summer house, and spending the occasional full week there. But it was starting to show its age. “They wanted it to become contemporary,” he says. “Inside, a lot of the details spoke of a different time.” 

The couple has known Wolf practically since he started out on his own. “He designed our first home in Manhattan, and we were thrilled, and when we moved to our second home 22 years ago, we loved what he did then,” she says. “So when we decided to remodel our beach home, there was no reason to look anywhere else.” 

The Interior 

Wolf’s assignment was to make the home feel young. “It was really tired,” he says. “We wanted it to be cohesive – open and light and different from what they had.” 

It was a tough assignment, the client admits, because it was closed-in and claustrophobic. “We asked him to make it open, light and bright,” she says. “And he did – I have a ton more seating now, and the dining room is opened up.” 

She has a penchant for whites and off-whites. “We worked with that, and stretched it a little with taupes on the rugs, and that sets off the lightness,” the designer says. 

He had the floors sanded down and stained dark, a contrast that emphasized the whites even more. He tore down walls, replacing wood beams with steel ‘I” beams, and traded black-framed windows with white ones. To make the dark staircase essentially disappear, he painted it white. 

The idea was to do away with the boxiness of the 1980s-era rooms, lighten the walls and open up the vistas. “It’s much more open-looking,” the client says. “You can see in both directions now—the view is unencumbered of water and wetlands.” 

Wolf deliberately removed the irrelevant. “It’s a sort of space that reads so beachy – everywhere you look you see water, and it’s very open and relaxed,” he says. “We aimed for it to be easily maintained and comfortable to be in – and very functional, which is key.” 

The Finishes 

For finishes and furnishings, Wolf looked to what he saw out of the windows – and added some Asian and midcentury modern layers. “It’s meant for you to look at it and not know when it was done,” he says. “And you’ll look at it in 10 years, and it still will have a timeless quality.” 

He added furniture pieces and fabrics that he designed himself, like the coffee table and upholstery. Fabrics are indoor/outdoor material because people retreat inside, wet from the pool. “It’s always important to match the aesthetic with functionality,” he says. “Using outdoor fabrics was the best way we could to use light colors.” 

A shortened “u”-shaped sofa in the living area is angled for views of the television and the outdoors as well. “It’s designed so you see the fireplace and you can watch television and look out the window,” he says. “The house is always filled with people – they have grandchildren and wanted as much seating as possible.” 

The Reaction

Wolf had the run of the entire place while his renovation was in progress. The clients were nowhere to be seen for the whole winter, but came out when it was finished in the spring. “The first day they walked in, she said: ‘This is not my house – this is a different house,’” he says. “They were ecstatic.” 

They arrived on a Friday and stayed the entire weekend with friends and family. “We love it,” the client says. “It’s a dramatic difference – like night and day.” 

But in reality, it’s the newest summer project from one of Manhattan’s more gifted designers.

For more information, visit vicentewolf.com.