When the client first crossed the threshold of my studio, he was holding a magazine featuring my previous project. He placed it on the table and said: "I want an interior that will surprise me." Not a copy, not a repetition — but the same degree of thoughtfulness, the same emotional depth. It was an honest and incredibly inspiring brief: to create a space that would be a joy to live in.
When I first saw the apartment, it became clear that this was not just another new-build interior, but a space with the potential to become a kind of theatre for light and art. A large floor area, impressive glazing, and — a rarity in modern buildings — the possibility of installing a real wood-burning fireplace. The client had already acquired an antique fireplace portal, and I knew right then that we were facing a delicate task, balancing on the edge of classic and contemporary.
The original layout failed to harness the potential of the light, so I changed it completely. I gave the living room the largest glazed area — it was destined to become the heart of the home, a place where the morning sun and evening shadows would play their own architectural role. We concealed the home theatre: the acoustics disappeared into the shelving unit, the screen retracted into the ceiling, ensuring nothing would compete with the art collection and the antique fireplace.
The staircase was a story in itself. I dreamed of a monolithic structure, but the building's load-bearing walls categorically refused to support this idea. We had to find a solution—and a spiral metal staircase was born, lightweight and graphic, as if sketched in charcoal mid-air. Today, it looks as if it was part of the original concept, but back then we were anxious: could it become an asset rather than a compromise? It did. Moreover, it became one of the project's most distinctive features.
Working with this client was an exceptional pleasure: he came to me not just with pictures, but with a genuine respect for design. He knew precisely what he didn't want—a derivative, cold interior without character. He sought complexity, colour, and a life enriched by objects that meant more to him than mere decor. His art collection dictated the mood without being prescriptive; it provided direction while allowing the space to speak with its own voice.
That is why I chose a neutral, moulded shell — calm, precise, and classical. It became a clean canvas on which we could paint with colour, texture, and emotion. I deliberately introduced complex materials: steel in the kitchen to echo the black staircase; Amazonia Green marble in the master bathroom — a stone we found by chance and never encountered again; the glass walls of the guest bathroom, a feature everyone tried to talk me out of. I was told, "It's impossible to execute." My response was, "I have contractors who aren't afraid of complex challenges." And they truly delivered.
Each room grew around its own core idea. The living room — around the fireplace and the client's porcelain collection, which was so extensive that the shelving could only display a part of it.
The kitchen — around balance: black fronts and steel-like finishes temper the vibrant colours of the living room, and the pendant light over the table, chosen by the client himself, hit the perfect note.
The bedroom — is about complex shades: grey-green, dusty pink, grey textiles, with a large painting opposite the bed that holds the room's emotional centre.
The master bathroom—a small escape to a private SPA: a freestanding bathtub, a glass countertop, and that rare stone.
The hall — a space where a mirrored wall doesn't just amplify the sense of space but creates an architectural pause between the saturated colour blocks. The guest bathroom—a glass "box" that makes the light play differently than it would with traditional finishes.
Of course, there were adventures. When we were transporting trees for the terrace, we discovered they wouldn't fit up the spiral staircase. We had to call in specialized equipment, and the whole operation looked as if we were hoisting artworks onto the roof, not plants. In a way, that's exactly what it was: the plants became a vital part of the overall composition, especially against the backdrop of the sculpture by Ivan Gorshkov, which greeted them with the irony characteristic of his work.
When the project was finished, I suddenly realised this was a story about courage. The courage of the client to trust. My courage to propose ideas that are usually shelved for "later." The courage of the materials to become the face of the interior. We created a home where modern classicism doesn't restrain colour but nobly frames it; where art doesn't intimidate but inspires; where architecture doesn't dominate but opens up possibilities.
And perhaps the most important thing: this is the project where I managed to realise everything I had long wanted to try — from the glass bathroom to working with the expansive terrace. It's a rare feeling — when a concept becomes reality, and that reality becomes a story you want to tell again and again.
Credits
Text by Victoria Stavtseva
Designer: Oksana Salberg-Vachnadze
Images: Sergey Krasyuk
Stylist: Daria Soboleva
