The house I bought had a lot of charm. At 116 years old, with under 1,000 square feet, it was cozy and slightly cramped. But I had a vision for what it could be. It had great light, high ceilings, and a layout that made sense. Not all houses have that. But the kitchen was cramped and the 9 foot ceilings sloped down to 7 feet in the back of the house giving it a closed in feeling. It was begging for an update. This is a case study in design conviction.
The original bungalow had great bones, a decent layout for the size, but a pretty bad kitchen. The previous owners had modernized the kitchen the best they could, but there was only so much that could be done with the space, the sloping ceiling and the closed-off design.
The goal wasn't a flip. It was a home that felt both old and new. One that would reflect the same conviction I bring to product design: every decision intentional, every detail earning its place.
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I approached this renovation the way I approach any design challenge — by having a vision of where I wanted to go. What should it feel like to walk through the front door? What should the kitchen communicate? How does light move through the space?
The answers became the brief: open, warm, bold, layered. Materials that feel alive. Color that is bold and carries through key surfaces without being overly matchy.
Counters are tough. They change the entire vibe of a kitchen. I knew for certain I wasn’t doing white or grey, but how bold did I want to go?
Originally, I found a terracotta matte slab online that I was stuck by. It looked so different from anything I’d seen before that I knew I had to see it in person. When I got to Cosentino, the salesperson showed me a new slab that had just gotten in – a gorgeous deep green slab with gold veins. I hadn’t even considered green but the moment I saw it I knew. I didn’t look at a single other slab. That was it.
To my utter delight, the terracotta looked amazing paired with the Jardín Emerald slab, so I knew I had my backsplash too. I hadn’t been thinking about using a slab as a backsplash, but I knew I wanted to use it as the counter in the new bathroom as well.
The cabinet decision came later. Custom? Prefab? The cost difference can be exorbitant, but you don’t spend that much money to remodel only to cheap out on cabinets. They change the feel of a kitchen. I knew I didn’t want white cabinets (can you sense my disdain for white?).
Ultimately, it was the handpainted tile from Spain that brought the full color palette vision together for me. It has the green of the counter, the terracotta of the backsplash, the gold of the cabinets and the blue of the new bathroom tile.
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A renovation this small doesn't have room for throwaway choices. Every material had to earn its place — not just look good, but mean something in the context of the whole house. I must've looked at one million counters and ten million tiles. It was that serious.
Because I knew I wanted there to be cohesion without overly matching, there were a few materials I used in multiple places. The hand-painted tiles from Spain appear in both the kitchen backsplash and the downstairs bathroom floor. The terracotta slab that forms the kitchen backsplash reappears as the upstairs bathroom countertop — same slab, different room. Oak cabinetry runs from the kitchen through the upstairs vanity. Three deliberate throughlines connecting every room.
The original living room had to make space for a dining room too. It made the entry and the sitting area feel cramped. The dark wood floor wasn't helping either. Now with the kitchen open, the living room extends naturally into the kitchen and dining area. One larger room that invites a natural flow between them.
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The new staircase facilitates the moment you cross from the original bungalow into the new second story addition. It's also directly in the center of the house, so it needed to be beautiful.
Art nouveau botanical wallpaper climbs the full height of the stairwell, wrapping a window that floods the space with light. Oak treads, matte black spindles, and a hand-finished railing. It's a dramatic moment in the house, and it was designed to be.
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The downstairs bathroom had been recently remodeled. It has a gorgeous turquoise tile, I just wasn't a fan of the beige floors. The old floor was replaced with terracotta tile inset with the same hand-painted Spanish ceramics from the kitchen backsplash. A deliberate throughline connecting two rooms through a shared material language.
Upstairs, the new ensuite is a completely different world. Deep blue subway tile climbs the vanity wall, meeting a Dekton countertop in the same terracotta tone as the kitchen backsplash — the same material, different room, different orientation. The floor is dark slate with copper veining, a stone that shifts between blue-green and warm amber depending on the light. The shower is floor-to-ceiling teal tile in a vertical stack pattern with a built-in bench. Both bathrooms have heated floors — because tile is cold and walking on a warm floor is divine.
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The entire second story is new — a primary bedroom with vaulted ceilings, exposed beams, and views of the surrounding hillsides and mountains. An ensuite bathroom. A walk-in closet. All of it sitting on top of a 1908 bungalow that never imagined a second story.
The asymmetrical ceiling in the new bedroom came as an accident. I asked for vaulted ceilings upstairs, but when I saw the framing, I knew immediately I wanted to leave it off center. With the beams running through it, I loved the character it added to the space.
Renovating a house is the most honest design exercise there is. There\'s no A/B test. No rollback. You live with every decision you make, every day. The green quartz counters, the botanical wallpaper, the open plan that eliminated the option of hiding clutter — all of it required the same thing my best product work requires: conviction.
But I also lived in the space while it was being designed. I got to see the framing, the window height, how the light reflected in the space. And I made changes because of that. I moved windows higher, I changed window sizes, I shifted ceiling designs, all because I saw it as it was being made. This is all similar to how digital design works too.
Where the taste comes in is to instinctually know when something is wrong and something is right. I had so many moments of that during this year long experience.
