Nine Shipping Containers, One 1,600-Square-Foot House With Lots of Unconventional Art

After his longtime home was damaged in Hurricane Irma, a local artist/collector made the "impractical" choice to patchwork together a metal base for himself and his eccentric possessions.

Welcome to Different Strokes, a look at unique home design choices that beg for further explanation.

In 2017, artist, collector, and former gallery owner Rob DePiazza was in the early stages of building an art studio using shipping containers, but Hurricane Irma had other plans. Two days after the Category Five storm tore through St. Augustine, Florida, he surveyed the rubble that a 70-year-old water oak tree had made out of his house of 30 years and decided to pivot from building a shipping container studio to a full-blown shipping container home.

Building with hulking steel freight containers is a specialized niche. Crucially, he’d already connected with Gainsville-based Stephen Bender, an architect who works with them exclusively. "We did the foundation first, but as [the containers] came to the site, one by one, we installed them like Legos," DePiazza says.

Rob DePiazza worked with architect Stephen Bender to build his shipping container house after his longtime home in St. Augustine, Florida, was damaged by a fallen tree during Hurricane Irma.

Photo: Rob DePiazza

The result of this disaster-prompted change is the Prince Road Container House, a 1,600-square-foot space comprising nine containers that was a DIY operation with Rob, who runs a local screen printing business, at the helm, with help from some of his tradesperson friends (none of whom, Rob says, had prior experience in container construction). The "impractical" decision to build a container house was even more so, he adds, as he was "hobbling around on crutches" in the midst of a series of hip surgeries.

The home has three bedrooms and two bathrooms and a colorful exterior mural by Italian artist Riccardo Nannini. Its central nervous system is a loft-like living room with a 20-foot ceiling made by taking the roof of two of the containers, inverting one, and stacking them together. Inside, the decor reflects Rob’s proclivity for art projects: there are gloopy ceramics by California artist Philip Kupferschmidt, discarded vintage oddities, and unconventional custom details, including plywood doors wood-burned with live edge plaques etched with the faces of the "world"s ugliest dogs" (by artist Lois Sander). The walls display the impressive art collection that Rob has amassed over the years, including a Keith Haring poster he bought at the Pop Shop in New York City, an original piece by Wayne White (one of the artists behind Pee-wee’s Playhouse), a serigraph by Raymond Pettibon, and works by some of his artist friends.

Gallery-worthy collection aside, the structure makes no attempt at hiding its shipping container origins—the exposed corrugated metal makes sure of it. But Rob says its look is always subject to change. Although construction was technically completed in 2020, he considers it a work in progress. It’s available to rent on Airbnb, too; Rob likes to list it when he travels. We spoke with Rob about how he relied on friends to help him turn nine hunks of metal into a home and living art project and showcase. Our conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.

The 1,600-square-foot home was made using nine shipping containers.

Photo: Rob DePiazza

What are some of the features you love about your home?

Rob DePiazza: The way I approach design aspects, like the trim, the casing on the doors, for example. Sometimes I won’t have an idea, but instead of forcing the issue, I’ll live with it for a minute or six months and try not to think about it. An idea popped in my head for the door casings. We had to conceal this two-inch square of rusty metal that wasn’t attractive. We cut strips of the birch plywood so that all you see is the ply. It’s tongue-in-cheek, because typically in cabinetry you don’t ever reveal ply. That’s kind of a thing in the house: it’s an exercise in revealing things that aren’t [usually] revealed, like metal walls. I used a material called Parallam for the stair treads and the landing, which is a structural beam material. You never see it in its normal capacity. It’s usually hidden within a wall.

A seating area on the upper level overlooks the double-height living room.

Photo: Rob DePiazza

See the full story on Dwell.com: Nine Shipping Containers, One 1,600-Square-Foot House With Lots of Unconventional Art
Related stories:

• They Made Sure Their Church-to-Home Conversion "Still Looked Like a Church"
• Sure, Why Not Build Your House With a 6,000-Pound Spiral Slide and a Glass Floor?
• A DIYer Builds a "Tomatovision" Cabinet to Conceal Her Flat-Screen TV

From the Archive: How Norman Foster’s "Space-Age Peanut" Chesa Futura Came to Be

In the Swiss Alps, the distinctive low-impact, multiunit dwelling was actually built using traditional chalet techniques by in-the-know locals.

As a part of our 25th-anniversary celebration, we’re republishing formative magazine stories from before our website launched. This story previously appeared in Dwell’s November/December 2003 issue.

It may have been designed with custom software, but Chesa Futura owes just as much to the kind of chalets conjured up by our mind’s eye when we hear the word "Switzerland" as it does to cutting-edge computer technology. Set on the slopes of the Engadin Valley, overlooking the town of St. Moritz and its lake, the shimmering ovoid structure looks every inch a piece of pure 21st-century design. But it turns out that both the inspiration for and execution of this unique project are rooted firmly in Swiss tradition, from the pilotis that raise it from the ground to the wooden shingles that coat its exterior.

Serendipity played a part in the design process as well: When the project’s developer, Sisa AG, approached prestigious English practice Foster and Partners, they couldn’t have known that they would end up with a project director who knew the Engadin Valley like the back of his hand. In fact, Milan-born Matteo Fantoni had even more insight than some locals into the exact nature of the site, having stayed in the apartment building that would make way for Chesa Futura during some of his numerous visits to the area in his youth. "We had friends who had flats in the building that was there before Chesa Futura," he explains. "So I knew the view, I knew the orientation, I knew the mountains."

Proceeding with an open brief and a blank piece of paper, Fantoni realized that the elevated, curved shape of Chesa Futura would be ideal for the site, and the more he explored this approach, the more practical it became. The steel legs that raise the wooden shell 11 and a half feet from the ground reference a Swiss mountain-home tradition that prolongs the life of timber structures by minimizing contact with the chilling and dampening snow. It also takes the structure clear of the houses in front of it, meaning that each floor is afforded a much sought-after view of the lake.

Conceptual design sketch by Norman Foster (right)

The five-story building that Fantoni vacationed in as a teenager had two lower levels that suffered from views restricted by the houses in front of them and the resultant lack of light. That’s something Chesa Futura’s residents will never need to worry about, as the building’s convex southerly aspect contains 10-foot-wide windows that look out onto a terrace and offer panoramic views of St. Moritz. The north-facing rear of the building is radically different—concave to afford maximum insulation from the mountain winds, it is dotted with small windows set at an angle so as to allow the maximum sunlight in while protecting the building from the often extreme conditions. 

Despite its elevated position, Chesa Futura intrudes no further into the skyline than its predecessor. Just over 50 feet tall at its apex, the building has been constructed with a slight downward tilt as the valley rises to ensure that it fits snugly into the envelope left by the old building. This was vital to comply with local planning regulations and make sure that neighbors would not lose their views of the lake. Such a radical design in this idyllic location was bound to bring some objections, but by meticulously keeping within local codes, Foster and Partners minimized disruption to the project. Getting the local mayor on board helped, too, even though he wasn’t so sure about things when he first saw the plans.

"He was silent for 20 minutes," says Fantoni. "He then eventually said, ‘You can have my full support on it, because it is going to be great for our valley, Switzerland, and St. Moritz.’" This seems to have been an astute judgment, as the building has already become something of a tourist attraction, with locals and visitors alike stopping to take snapshots or simply stand and stare.

Rendering by Arup (right)

From a distance, Chesa Futura almost appears to hover above the side of the valley like a wood-clad mother ship, the sun illuminating its larch shingles. These hand-cut wooden tiles, which cover the entire surface of the building, are another piece of Swiss tradition that Foster and Partners sought out in their travels across the Alpine region looking for inspiration and materials. One great discovery was 82-year-old Lorenz Kraettli, who has been making shingles all his life.

"He selected 80 trees, took them home, and with his family chopped all the pieces," says Fantoni. "They produced 250,000 pieces out of 80 trees and then put them on the structure of the building over the batons for a period of five or six months. We learned a lot from him about how to cut trees. You can have better structural performance if you cut radial to the log. It creates a much stronger scheme that will last as long as possible."

The structure is topped off with a copper roof, another Swiss material used for practicality as much as tradition. Its malleability at low temperatures (which can reach below zero Fahrenheit in the valley) meant that it could be fabricated onsite, rather than having to be awkwardly transported through the tiny side streets of St.Moritz. It is this ability to adapt and think ahead that Fantoni believes has made the project such a success, in terms of both construction and in building relationships in the local area.

Design sketch of the shingles by Norman Foster (left), Elevation view by Norman Foster (right)

See the full story on Dwell.com: From the Archive: How Norman Foster’s "Space-Age Peanut" Chesa Futura Came to Be
Related stories:

• Before & After: How a Couple Brought Mediterranean Vibes to Their London Terrace House
• Lloyd Wright’s Usonian Ideas Inspired This ’60s Italian Villa, Now Refreshed for a Family of Five
• A Half-Arch Motif Merges an L.A. Renovation With Its New ADU

You Might Already Be Living in a "Sponge City"

How U.S. municipalities from Los Angeles to New York are using green infrastructure to prepare for a wetter future.

Los Angeles experienced a record-shattering deluge of rainfall in February 2024 that dumped 10 inches of rain on the city in two days, more than half of what the city usually gets each year. Meteorologists had warned that this atmospheric river could be catastrophic, and serve as a dire preview of how these weather events could become stronger and deadlier due to climate change. But the city was prepared. Los Angeles had spent years replacing parts of its concrete cityscape with permeable patches of dirt, grass, and plants, which mitigated flooding by soaking up some of the rainwater and directing it to underground aquifers before it could build up around drains and gutters. In the process, the city managed to capture 8.6 billion gallons of water within just three days, enough to service 106,000 households for one year.

L.A. is effectively drawing on the idea of a "sponge city," a model of flood prevention that directs water into landscaping rather than storm drains. The late Chinese architect Kongjian Yu popularized the concept via his firm, Turenscape, which specializes in ecologically minded urban design. He worked with the Chinese government to develop permeable spaces that absorb and release water in dozens of Chinese cities before he died in a plane crash in September of 2025. Yu, who derived his thinking from ancient Chinese wisdom, often said it’s important to "make friends with water" rather than fighting it, and promoted the holistic benefits of designing human spaces in symphony with the sky and ground. "We need a new system, a new vernacular to express the changing relationship between land and people," he said in 2024.

His concepts have taken root far beyond China. In Bangkok, Turenscape converted an abandoned tobacco factory into the 102-acre Benjakitti Forest Park, a green lung filled with ponds and native plants that absorbs water during the city’s frequent heavy rainfalls. Copenhagen, meanwhile, developed what it calls a Cloudburst Management Plan after an extreme storm in 2011 that drenched the city with three feet of water. The city plans to realize 300 projects over two decades aimed at using natural methods, such as sponge parks and rain tunnels, to absorb rainfall that climate change is making more extreme.new 

Turenscape’s Benjakitti Forest Park, in Bangkok, is a vibrant green space that soaks up rainfall.

Photo by Manan Vatsyayana/AFP via Getty Images

More U.S. cities—some where catastrophic floods are causing residents to flee, and insurance companies to pull out of some areas and hike prices in others—are implementing sponge infrastructure, too. In Atlanta’s flood-prone neighborhood of Vine City, dozens of homes deemed unsafe after a flood were razed to create a sponge park that absorbs the area’s stormwater during heavy rains and gives residents a much-desired gathering space. New York, meanwhile, has partnered with Copenhagen to develop its own cloudburst management program by designating a series of "hubs" across the city that use green methods like rain gardens and permeable pavers to prevent the worst effects of flooding, while its 1,800 square foot sponge park collects and cleans stormwater runoff from Brooklyn’s 2nd Street and reduces sewage overflow into the Gowanus Canal; Los Angeles’s Department of Water and Power says that the city’s interventions now allow it to capture more than 27 billion gallons of stormwater each year.

These sponge and cloudburst programs, some of which are pilots, are "approaches of making the city, or making developed landscapes, able to flood benignly," explains Franco Montalto, professor of civil, architectural, and environmental engineering at Drexel University.

Atlanta’s Cook Park absorbs stormwater that once inundated the surrounding community, combining flood protection with a recreational space.

Photo by Jay Wozniak/Trust for Public Land

While these concepts are borrowed from other countries, the United States has its own legacy of green infrastructure, spanning decades as an alternative to so-called "gray" systems like sewers, dams, and other traditional engineering interventions that are designed to move water out of cities as quickly as possible. In the early 2000s, the Environmental Protection Agency began demanding that cities repair their overflowing sewers to comply with the Clean Water Act, which mandated reductions to pollution discharges to rivers and streams. Planners first considered making sewers bigger, which could be both disruptive and expensive, Montalto says. Low-impact development, consisting largely of natural interventions, became an attractive alternative.

"The argument that a bunch of people made, myself included, was that we need to divert stormwater away from sewers and infiltrate it into the ground," he says. "And that became what was called green stormwater infrastructure." This has often taken the form of rain gardens, or bioswales: small patches of green space installed on roadsides and sidewalks to alleviate sewer systems, which have been installed by the thousands in U.S. cities over the past two decades. While these strategies initially focused on reducing sewer discharge, not necessarily on reducing flooding, they introduced engineers and planners to the same philosophies of storm water management that guided sponge city development in China.

But the next step, Montalto says, would be the hardest, since it would require infrastructure upgrades on a massive scale. His research team studied the impact of 2020’s Tropical Storm Isaias on the Eastwick neighborhood of Philadelphia, which sits at the end of a watershed. Montalto found that, for green infrastructure to have prevented flooding, it would have needed to cover 65 percent of the watershed’s surface area—more than five times what communities upstream from Eastwick are planning now. "[Cities] would look fundamentally different," he says. Every parking lot would be permeable; every street would be connected to bioswales; every rooftop would be green. "We haven’t really been willing to do a whole hearted retrofit of urban landscapes, or design landscapes in dramatically different ways."

Much of Kongjian Yu’s work in China was logistically easier, as he designed sponge infrastructure in newly built districts rather than retrofitting existing cities. He also operated with significant government financing in centrally planned areas, a stark difference from the U.S., where implementing stormwater systems requires cooperation from agencies that are not used to working together.

Even working within ideal conditions has not prevented the most catastrophic effects of flooding. Chinese cities designed with sponge infrastructure suffered record-breaking floods between 2021 and 2023 that left experts questioning whether green interventions are happening too late to respond to the extreme weather of the future. Yu responded to his skeptics, saying that sponge infrastructure in affected areas had been implemented half-heartedly and that his concepts, when built at scale, have been proven to work.

Turenscape’s Haikou Jiangdong Coastal Park, in the Chinese island province of Hainan, replaced an existing concrete sea wall with a "breathing" porous landscape using terraces and bioswales to absorb water.

Courtesy Turenscape

See the full story on Dwell.com: You Might Already Be Living in a "Sponge City"
Related stories:

• This British Columbia Prefab Builder Isn’t Afraid of Customization
• Florida’s Skyscrapers Are Sinking—and Everything Else You Need to Know About This Week
• The Trick to Getting More Housing Built? Target Renters, Not Immigration

What’s the Right Amount of Creepy in Christmas?

Forget Ralph Lauren Christmas—this year, lean into a slightly more sinister look with these unsettling (and charming) decorations.

Like many millennial parents, I hate the holiday scourge that is Elf on the Shelf. I hate the fact that because of some wholly invented tradition, I’m now pressured to take on a part-time seasonal gig as a department store window display designer staging daily vignettes in my own home. I refuse. But sometimes I'm tempted by one very specific factor: I actually like that he’s a little creepy. 

The Elf is clearly designed to evoke a 1950s Christmas aesthetic and pull that nostalgia lever, hard. But he lands somewhere in the uncanny valley of fake retro—and there’s just something about that grinning little face and that uncannily elongated body that delights me, against my will. Would that I could adopt him without all the baggage! It’s not just the Elf, though: I like my Christmas decor a little creepy, generally. For years, I’ve been hunting for the right unnerving moon ornament; I’m an absolute sucker for any weird Victoriana. My ideal decorative item makes me say "Oh, no," even as I wrap my greedy fingers around it. 

Maybe it’s my grandmother’s fault, for her decision to collect Byers’ Choice Carolers, foot-tall collectible holiday figures in historical costume, handmade from plaster, tissue paper, and clay sculpted to give them singing little mouths. I became fixated and, as an adult, I’m always on the lookout for them at antique malls, despite the fact that they genuinely unsettle my friends. (The consensus is that they look like they get up and wander around at night and I should lock my bedroom door.) Or perhaps it’s because as a child, I was given a copy of Maurice Sendak’s illustrated edition of the original E.T.A. Hoffman Nutcracker, and it warped me for life. 

But I’m not alone in my appreciation for a little note of darkness amid the seasonal cheer: in fact, it’s a thread that runs through quite a lot of classic Christmas. It’s A Wonderful Life is about a man who nearly dies by suicide. The Nutcracker could just as well be called The Nightmare, with freaky Godfather Drosselmeyer appearing like a bat atop the clock at the stroke of midnight. And the beloved Christmas Carol kicks off with ghosts rattling chains of eternal torment and culminates with Scrooge confronting his own unloved grave. All those candles and colored bulbs are an attempt to push back the encroaching darkness of winter, after all; a little creepiness hits like Maldon salt sprinkled on top of a chocolate chip cookie. 

There’s a correct amount, though. Too much tips too far into kitsch and breaks the tension, like a Halloween-themed Christmas village. (Or just becomes Saw-franchise awful, like the infamous 2018 White House decorations.) You just need a few things, amid the tartan bows and red velvet. Here’s my advice. 

 Anything Victorian Is Automatically Creepy  

Victorian Christmas Garlands

Adorn your home this holiday season with Victorian Christmas Garlands & Advents. Featuring classic Victorian illustrations, this festive décor is a timeless way to honor the traditional holiday spirit. Decorate your halls with a lovely reminder of the Christmas season—bringing warmth and cheer into your home.

Christmas Cat Garland

A beautiful garland featuring ten repeated motifs of Christmas Cats carrying a Christmas pudding.

On the one hand, a hint of the 19th century connotes tradition and luxury—it’s part of what gives "Ralph Lauren Christmas" the juice. On the other hand, centuries later, so much of the print culture of the era reads as just plain weird, especially the Christmas cards they loved so much. Consequently, any decor featuring Victorian illustrations automatically lends a pleasurable little note of unease to the festivities. Consider these paper garlands from Heirloom Art Co; Father Christmas is particularly good. But absolutely nothing tops these cats carrying Christmas puddings.  

John Derian Snowman Tray

Our decoupage is handmade to order in our New York studio using reproduced imagery from John Derian's vast collection of antique and vintage prints. Trained artisans cut and collage our designs onto handblown glass. Please allow 2-4 weeks for production. Do not immerse in water, wipe clean.

John Derian Guardian Cell Phone Tray

Do not immerse in water, wipe clean. Our decoupage is handmade to order in our New York studio using reproduced imagery from John Derian's vast collection of antique and vintage prints. Trained artisans cut and collage our designs onto handblown glass. Please allow 2-4 weeks for production.

You can take the vibe one step further with decoupage. This is where designer John Derian particularly shines. Perhaps your coffee table needs a tray featuring a snowman with a baby doll face, greeting a robin? A child shooting the entire contents of his stocking out of a cannon? Literally any of these Santa plates would work. But if you decide to sleep with this incredible cell phone tray—featuring a grinning moon and two owls next to a church steeple—at your bedside, I won’t be held responsible for your dreams. 

Scare Your Guests With Papier-Mâché  

Ino Schaller Krampus

These papier-mâché Santas were painstakingly made by hand in Bavaria, Germany by the Ino Schaller family, using techniques they have employed since 1894. Unlike the many Santas available in shops around the world - many of them copied from the German originals - Schaller Santas are entirely handmade, hand-painted and hand glittered, making them a collectors item for those who value exquisite craftsmanship. A staple of the German Christmas crafts markets, these Santas are the perfect gift for children and grandchildren and can be collected over the years. Mass them on the dining table or the mantel to create an Old World Christmas. I've been collecting these year after year, and my children love them. The Krampus comes from German folklore. While St. Nicholas brings toys and treats to good children, Krampus punishes naughty children.

Why is papier-mâché so unsettling? Is it intrinsic to the medium itself, or does it stem from the artistic choices that people always seem to make with the stuff? That’s a question for a professor of sociology. I’ll simply point you in the direction of these handmade Ino Schaller papier-mâché Santas.

Speaking of The Nutcracker… 

Christian Ulbricht Nutcracker

In 1928, Christian Ulbricht‘s father founded the company, Otto Ulbricht‘s Workshop for Fine Wooden Crafts and Toys" in the small town of Seiffen, in the heart of the Ore Mountains. With entrepreneurial skills and remarkable inventiveness, Otto Ulbricht was awarded at the World Exhibition in Paris a gold medal for his children’s room clock designs and a group of Kurrende singers. After WWII Otto Ulbricht re-established his Company in the village of Lauingen on the Danube River in Bavaria. In 1990, Christian Ulbricht bought back his father‘s original company in Seiffen. With a lot of passion, the family and their team create traditional wooden art that brings joy to grown-ups and children alike.

The Nutcracker has wormed its way so deeply into American popular culture and become such a childhood staple that it’s easy to forget just how deeply unsettling the ballet is. Again, I return to Godfather Drosselmeyer looming over the grandfather clock as it tolls the stroke of midnight, the Christmas tree growing massive and rats pouring out from the recesses of the Stahlbaum family home. It was Sendak material long before Sendak actually got his hands on it.

But frankly, that’s true of nutcrackers generally, which—despite all the decades of whimsical and saccharine versions—retain a sort of malign sketchiness. Practically any Christian Ulbricht creation stands a good chance of giving your nieces and nephews nightmares about rodents eating their marzipan (or simply about getting marzipan as a stocking stuffer), but the more traditional in design, the better. Bonus points for any resemblance to the stop-motion protagonists of the Rankin Bass Christmas classics—especially the Jack Frost one. 

Consider the Midcentury Creep Factor  

Ceramic Candy Cane Girl Angel Trio

These precious angels with their gilded wings and festive candy canes look like they're ready for a big dance number in that holiday classic, White Christmas. But it's not on the big screen, but in your home that these handpainted ceramics which are based on a 1950's design, will star this season. A great collectible trio for any ceramics lover.

This list leans heavily on the 19th century, I know. But the Elf is a tribute to pure midcentury America, a creepy era in its own right, an alienating combination of material prosperity and nuclear dread. To tap that vibe, there’s two places to go: your local sprawling antique mall, or the Vermont Country Store. This trio of sweet-faced little angels holding candy canes is very cute… too cute, in fact. Suspiciously cute. They’d fit right in with my enemy the Elf. 

Glass Ornaments: Why?  

Glass ornaments are supposed to read as nostalgic. But something about the limits of the form means they always end up a little… off.

Choosing Keeping Pear Face Glass Ornament

Here presented is an ornament which was made in Lauscha, Germany a small village with a long tradition of glass-blowing. Thankfully, a handful of passionate and knowledgeable Christmas fanatics, have continued traditional methods of production, making decorations which closely resemble those made in Germany from 1880 to 1940, keeping the craft alive. Their inspiration is often more folklorish winter legends and less obviously Christian symbols.

A reliable shortcut to creepiness: something with a face that shouldn’t really have a face. Think of the old Steeplechase Park mascot, from old-timey Coney Island—now translate that for the Christmas tree. Among the many lovely seasonal wares at British stationary shop Choosing Keeping is this absolutely horrifying [complimentary] pear with a face. It’s produced in a German village with a long tradition of glass-blowing, where "Their inspiration is often more folklorish winter legends and less obviously Christian symbols." Yeah, folklore about things that go bump in the winter night. (Be warned, though: nothing is as frightening as the current ever-shifting tariff rates. Order at your own caution.) 

Cody Foster Framed Eye Ornament

Do you ever feel like someone is staring at you? This framed eye ornament is a fun and unique gift.

Alternatively, skip the face and just go straight to the eye. Specifically, one of Cody Foster’s ocular ornaments—there’s more than one!  

For Extra Creepiness, Combine Any of the Above 

Starry Garland

Seven dreamy stars strung along a metre of vintage ribbon. The double sided stars are printed onto quality off white card in muted sooty colours for that mystical look. The vintage style rayon ribbon is a subtle neutral cream.

Victoriana is unsettling; so are faces that shouldn’t be there. And so I particularly love this garland of round-faced stars, advertised on Etsy for "Christmas Yule Birthdays Nursery."

But Nothing Matches the Carolers 

Byers Choice Cry Selling Sweets

This handcrafted Byers’ Choice Cry Selling Sweets Caroler is festive and perfect for the Christmas holiday season. Part of the beloved Cries of London Collection, she brings the charm of old-world street vendors to your holiday display—offering festive sweets from her overflowing basket and cart.

Byers Choice Bedtime Mrs. Claus

This handcrafted Byers’ Choice Bedtime Mrs. Claus Caroler is a charming addition to your Christmas decorations. Wrapped in a cozy red robe and striped nightdress, Mrs. Claus stays busy by the fire knitting a Christmas stocking while wearing her holly-trimmed night bonnet ready to keep the North Pole snug and festive through the night.

I would be remiss if I did not include on this list the Christmas decor for which I have been repeatedly roasted by my friends, the Byers Choice Carolers. They are lovingly and carefully made, often clad in little velvet dresses. Their old-timey styling makes them look a little ghostly, by default, like they should be in line to take a turn haunting Scrooge. They are designed to look like they are singing; unfortunately, it always looks a little like they’re screaming. Truthfully, the best way to acquire one of these is to stumble across them at a sprawling antique mall somewhere in Pennsylvania, or scrolling Facebook Marketplace. But for a mere $93, you could be the proud owner of a nightgown-wearing Mrs. Claus, knitting a Christmas stocking, or an enterprising woman selling sweets on the streets of Georgian London. Something to consider.

Related Reading:

Millennials Are Coming for the Tiny Collectible Christmas Village

Vintage Christmas Collectors Have Inspired a Revival

How ’40s and ’50s Holiday Films Helped Define the Quintessential Christmas "Look"

This British Columbia Prefab Builder Isn’t Afraid of Customization

Blend Projects wants to prove that personalized touches don’t have to come at the expense of efficiency.

Welcome to Prefab Profiles, an ongoing series of interviews with people transforming how we build houses. From prefab tiny houses and modular cabin kits to entire homes ready to ship, their projects represent some of the best ideas in the industry. Do you know a prefab brand that should be on our radar? Get in touch!

Before Simon Fyall cofounded Blend Projects in British Columbia with high school pal Richard Egli about five years ago, they spent nearly two decades building and managing residential projects. And while they were proud of the work, there was a constant downside: the amount of waste produced on the job. Sometimes that had nothing to do with actual trash.

"Witnessing the waste of time, money, and resources led me to consider a better way," Fyall says. "So I envisioned a prefab system that could be adaptable," the goal of which was to create more efficiency across the board.

Today, Fyall and Egli’s prefab system is more efficient, and sustainable, than the traditional projects of their past, they say, even as they continue to hone it. In the beginning, they manufactured everything, but outsourcing some parts has helped. Homes also now have more sophisticated design elements, like metal roofs and expansive windows. And while the team still offers full-service care, they have the ability to hand off responsibilities with a range of project management packages. In other words, Blend Projects seems to be hitting its stride.

Dwell spoke with Fyall, Blend Project’s vice president and partner Geordie Flanagan, and Lauren Wiegel, sales and marketing coordinator, to hear about how the company is striving to elevate the idea of what a prefab home can be.

Blend Projects built a three-bed, two-bath home on Salt Spring Island in British Columbia that’s based on the company’s Rancher 9 model.

Photo by Alexander Pym

What’s the most exciting project you’ve realized to date?

Lauren Wiegel: One of our most exciting projects to date is the Rancher 9 on Salt Spring Island, the largest Rancher we’ve built so far. We call it the Arbutus, named after the rainbow-hued forest visible from nearly every window in the home. This project marked a turning point for Blend. It was where we stepped outside the conventional prefab box and redefined what it could be: Not just a faster way to build, but a true alternative to custom construction.

The clients wanted something that felt fully unique, without compromising on efficiency. From the start, the design pushed Blend’s boundaries with a long list of customizations: sliding doors in nonstandard locations, additional appliances like a pot filler and a laundry sink, and millwork tailored down to the washroom accessories. The result blends the speed and precision of prefab with the soul and specificity of a custom build.

The owners requested many customizations, including an extended island and plenty of vantage points of the site. The countertops are quartz.

Photo by Alexander Pym

What was the cost per square foot? Can you provide some context around pricing?

Geordie Flanagan: We approach projects in two ways, and that naturally impacts cost. Some clients come to us for kit pricing, where we design and ship the full prefabricated kit for their local team to assemble or for our builders to construct on-site. Other clients bring us on as a full-service partner—from design and project management through to working with our build partners on-site.

Because each site, location, and design is unique, we don’t use a one-size-fits-all cost model. Instead, we start with a feasibility study early in the design process so we can establish an accurate estimate and clear expectations from the beginning. This ensures that every decision from design detailing to construction aligns with the project goals and site realities.

Every Blend property features exposed glulam beams.

Photo by Alexander Pym

See the full story on Dwell.com: This British Columbia Prefab Builder Isn’t Afraid of Customization
Related stories:

• Florida’s Skyscrapers Are Sinking—and Everything Else You Need to Know About This Week
• The Trick to Getting More Housing Built? Target Renters, Not Immigration
• Why It Matters That the Trump Administration Is Declassifying Architects as "Professionals"

One of Gregory Ain’s Experimental Midcentury Homes Lists in L.A. for $1.6M

The revamped 1947 unit is part of the landmark Avenel Cooperative Housing Project, and it still has its original sliding walls and hardware.

Location: 2845 1/2 Avenel Street, Los Angeles, California

Price: $1,595,000

Year Built: 1947

Architect: Gregory Ain

Renovation Year: 2022

Footprint: 1,114 square feet (3 bed, 1 bath)

Lot Size: 0.7 acres

From the Listing: "It is quite possible that Gregory Ain’s early youth spent at the Llano del Rio, an experimental farming colony in Antelope Valley, may have influenced his later ideas as an architect. At Avenel, 10 families pooled their resources to sign on to Ain’s social experiment. The 10 ingeniously designed units are laid out in two identical rows, and integrate both private and public spaces. Each unit has a front patio and a rear patio that opens up to western facing views. Inside, Ain’s signature sliding walls can be opened or closed depending on need. The most recent renovation was by the owner, Alexsey Antonov along with artist Nora Shields. White oak built-ins in each of the three bedrooms (one can double as a den), are designed for multiple storage uses such as books and other objects. The sliding doors and the doorknobs and pulls for the linen closets are original to the property. The residence includes three bedrooms, one bathroom, an attached one-car garage at the front of the building, and an extra spot for guests."

Learn more about Gregory Ain’s Avenel Cooperative Housing Project on Dwell.

The Los Angeles home is one of 10 units designed by Gregory Aim in 1947. 

Photo: Cameron Carothers

Photo: Cameron Carothers

The building is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. 

Photo: Cameron Carothers

See the full story on Dwell.com: One of Gregory Ain’s Experimental Midcentury Homes Lists in L.A. for $1.6M
Related stories:

• This $1.6M Dome Home Near Taos Is Out of This World
• One of Mies van der Rohe’s Lafayette Park Town Houses Just Listed for $365K
• Scoop Up This Solar Powered, Off-Grid Catskills Cabin for $700K

A Half-Arch Motif Merges an L.A. Renovation With Its New ADU

Curved entries, windows, and counters reference the corner lot where the home stands in Torrance.

Houses We Love: Every day we feature a remarkable space submitted by our community of architects, designers, builders, and homeowners. Have one to share? Post it here.

Project Details

Location: Torrance, California

Architect: Archemy.LA / @archemy.la

Main House Footprint: 1,359  square feet

ADU Footprint: 485 square feet

Structural Engineer: Michael Martinez

Landscape Design: Jones Landscape

Photographer: Lauren Taylor / @laurentaylorcreative

From the Architect: "This midcentury-modern-inspired home consists of a two-bedroom home and an ADU. The home sits on a corner lot, which provided the inspiration for the design and hence the name the Bend House. This was the inspiration for the half arches that are incorporated into the design in the form of windows, doors, front entry, and other elements sprinkled throughout. All the newly constructed elements are rendered in white and the existing unchanged envelope of the home is charcoal.

"Horizontal brick, oak cabinets, and herringbone European white oak flooring are some midcentury modern elements incorporated into the design. The half-arched entry was the only new addition to the original home and creates an intentional transition between interior and exterior. The same rose color was used throughout in the entry, primary bathroom, interior of the skylights, and exterior awnings.

"The bright, light-filled kitchen and built-in cabinetry provide ample storage. The little wooden nook spotlights the owners’ Hibachi dolls. Wooden elements warm the space. The windows, nook, door, and cabinets are framed in maple. The half-arched elements are repeated in the cozy primary bedroom. Oak paneling, custom cabinets, and a framed window seat warm the space.

"Fun-colored tile in incremental sizes and different textures, both matte and glossy, is used throughout the home. It provided an opportunity to play with scale, texture, and format. Each bathroom and both kitchens, in the main home and the guesthouse (ADU), have their own unique color and personality.

"The newly constructed ADU has polished concrete flooring, maple cabinets, and ceilings. The precast concrete countertop with colored aggregate reflects the colors of the interior. The tall cabinets are finished in black Fenix and framed with exposed edge maple ply."

Photo by Lauren Taylor

Photo by Lauren Taylor

Photo by Lauren Taylor

See the full story on Dwell.com: A Half-Arch Motif Merges an L.A. Renovation With Its New ADU
Related stories:

• This Brick House Melds Mexican and Nordic Traditions
• Before & After: From Bachelor Pad to Family Chalet, This Little Cabin Grew Up With Its Owner
• A 1950s Home in Argentina Is Now a Live/Work Community for Five Friends