This is a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde project: On the outside, a 7,000-square-foot traditional limestone-clad house in a subdivision north of Toronto. Inside, an interior that was updated and made more functional in an environmentally responsible way without a major gut.
The Modernist renovation by Francesco Di Sarra, Principal Architect at FrankFranco Architects, based in the Toronto suburb of Kleinburg, Ont., proved acceptable to the mass market: The client had bought the residence for $3 million with the intention to renovate, spent $1 million on remodeling in 2019, then sold the house in 2022 for $7 million, making it the highest-priced listing in the area.
“This project is a case study in why a builder is not an architect,” Di Sarra says. Inside, “The spaces were devoid of any logic,” he adds, with redundant entries to rooms and a large lightwell cut-out in the second-storey hallway that made no sense because there was no skylight above it to draw light from. “The owner came to me, saying about the house, ‘What do I do with it?’ That was the exact sentence. They bought it with the intention to renovate.”
The exterior remains indistinguishable from the neighbour’s dwelling except for the entrance. The new design shows literally right from the front door, with the original entry replaced by a custom-designed 11-foot-tall, 50-inch-wide walnut door and sculptural black powder-coated metal handle, its top and bottom delineating a grid that extends horizontally as spandrel panels bisecting the sidelights.
The extensive interior renovation included the relocation of a secondary stair, a sunroom expansion, reorganization of the interior spaces and an updated materials palette. In contrast to the white-and-chrome “before” interior, the makeover creates a relaxed atmosphere by introducing wood, warm metals and natural stones.
In its as-found state, the interior suffered from oppressive faux-Victorian ornament such as columned archways, fussy door-panel mouldings and, in the living room, incongruously oversize octagonal ceiling coffers seemingly filched from the Roman Forum’s Basilica of Maxentius and Constantine.
Now, the geegaws are gone. Room openings are clad in walnut with walnut door headers reaching the ceiling. The typical clutter of downlights is concealed in ceiling slots, making for open vistas with clean planes.
Among the major moves, Di Sarra replaced the cramped kitchen, barely 12 feet wide, that felt even smaller with the island squeezed three feet from the walls.
Another project highlight is the cascading staircase. Di Sarra softened and rounded the main stairway’s sharp elbows and awkward corners. Opting to retain the existing traditional staircase but demolish its ornamental wrought-iron balustrade, he emphasized the stairs’ graceful curving form by wrapping it in a continuous walnut balustrade. The stairs, formerly an eyesore, became a key design feature in the home and set the tone for the remainder of the detailing throughout.
Another problem area was the tall, cavernous principal bedroom, which dwarfed the bed. “No one wants a bedroom that big,” he explains. “You feel dwarfed. It’s uncomfortable to sleep in. As an animal, a mammal, we always look for caves that give shelter and protection. We want intimate spaces; that’s why palaces had canopy beds with curtains.” It didn’t help that the existing balcony door, adjacent to the bed, made the owners feel even more exposed.
To that end, Di Sarra inserted a wall a third of the way into the room to slim it down while creating an antechamber that functions as a sitting room.
