In Osaka, a Small Neighborly Home Has Benches for Passersby

Set on an exposed lot, the residence has private, intimate interiors and exterior spaces that engage with the community.

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: Osaka, Japan

Architect: Masakazu Tsujibayashi Architects / @tttsujibayashi

Footprint: 1,130 square feet

Builder: Kosaka Komuten

Structural Engineer: Toshimitsu Miyake

Photographer: Yosuke Ohtake / @yosukeohtake_archiphoto

From the Architect: "The site is in one of Osaka’s central districts, a neighborhood where informal streets and narrow lanes weave through a mix of row houses, new residences, small shops, and temples. The area retains a warm, down‑to‑earth atmosphere rooted in its older character, and I wanted to create a home that would settle naturally into this context.

"But what does it mean for architecture to ‘settle in?’ It involves layers of naturalness, time, subjectivity, and objectivity—elements that are difficult to define logically. It is essential yet inherently unstable, shifting with human emotion. In a dense urban environment where public and private realms overlap, this becomes even more complex. With this in mind, I aimed to design a home where the residents, the architecture, and the city could continually renegotiate their relationship as feelings shift over time.

"The first step was to consider how the house relates to the street. The irregular site is bordered by roads on three sides, so the building was placed close to the property lines to secure the required floor area. Because this brings the house into close proximity with the city, I carefully calibrated the boundary between public and private. I adopted materials that age gracefully and a scale that feels familiar to people, allowing time to become part of the architecture while avoiding any sense of imposition. Openings were positioned and sized by reading the conditions of each street edge, maintaining privacy while still allowing subtle traces of daily life to filter outward.

"Building on this foundation, elements were placed intuitively, as if in ongoing dialogue with the environment and people. This intuitive process allowed the design to evolve day by day; rather than restarting, each adjustment was made while keeping the history of earlier revisions visible. As a result, a variety of contrasting elements—such as large windows and the deep eaves that conceal them, robust concrete walls and welcoming benches, or transparent and opaque railings—appear inside and out, interacting with one another to form a balanced spatial rhythm. These layered relationships continue into the interior where varying ceiling heights, floor levels, and spatial scales connect in sequence, while carefully selected materials and details create a gentle tension that guides movement and offers places of rest. Rather than dominating, the materials, details, and composition allow their inherent qualities to emerge. The way each element engages with the others feels almost conversational, creating a lively and enjoyable atmosphere.

"Ultimately, a home can only settle into its surroundings through ongoing engagement. By allowing residents to choose their relationship with the space day by day, the house gradually becomes part of the neighborhood, adapting to the subtle shifts of everyday life."

Photo by Yosuke Ohtake

Photo by Yosuke Ohtake

Photo by Yosuke Ohtake

See the full story on Dwell.com: In Osaka, a Small Neighborly Home Has Benches for Passersby
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From the Archive: Nights and Weekends Spent Working, Plus $55K, Revitalized This L.A. Fixer Upper

Handling the electrical, plumbing, and more all by himself, homeowner Lucky Diaz worked nearly every day for three and a half months to ensure his family’s new home was up to snuff.

Welcome to From the Archive, a look back at stories from Dwell’s past. This story previously appeared in the February 2008 issue.    

I was bound and determined to find a home for us. We considered prefab; we explored foreclosures. Becoming desperate, we even looked at places obviously wrong for us. We went to see a house where two guys were shooting at each other from their cars, and another one that had a cockfighting shed in the back, with feathers in the air and a lightbulb swinging.

After searching for three years, I came across this sad-looking pink house online. The bones were good, it was in a great neighborhood, and it was cheap. It was in probate—the owner had died and the woman selling just wanted it off her hands.

The house had a creepy vibe. It had belonged to a woman who smoked and was an alcoholic; she drank herself to death. Apparently, a biohazard team had been called in to clean out the place, but this all happened before it went on the market, so to us it looked like a cosmetic fixer. 

In reality there were a lot of hidden problems. For example, we found a tree growing through the walls and rafters. And the house wasn’t grounded, which caused an electrical fire on demolition day.

We kept the frame of the house and laid a metal roof over the existing one. Some of the walls we resurfaced; others we had to tear down and re-Sheetrock. The rest is all new—the electrical, the plumbing, all of the windows and doors, and the stucco. I hired subcontractors for the stucco, concrete, kitchen countertops, and tile work. To cut costs, I did the prep work. Everything else, I did myself—electrical, water, everything.

My dad was a contractor, and growing up I worked summers for him, but I had never done anything by myself. Not a thing. I’ve learned everything from watching other people or by reading my collection of old Time-Life books. Friends and family also helped. A case of beer went a long way.

Overall, the limitations of our budget forced us to be creative. We spent $55,000 on the renovation. That’s taking everything into account, including the cabinets, all the appliances, fixtures, material, and labor.

We decided to spend more on the things we’ll use the most. We like to cook and having a Viking range was essential. Our range was used at a cooking demo show, so I got it online for half-price. The recessed lighting was a splurge. Each light cost about $40, and we got 27 of them instead of putting one light in the middle of the ceiling. We skimped on the flooring, which is bamboo laminate, and on cabinetry, which is from Ikea.

The house is extremely efficient. We use less energy than most homes on the street. We didn’t have the budget to go completely green, but we tried to wherever we could. The roof is recycled metal and we used scrap wood or compressed board when we could.

There are things we’d do differently if we did it again. We would have explored cork flooring. Also, it takes an insane amount of skill to do drywall properly, so I ended up doing this funky texture. I would have been more liberal with knocking things down, but I was too scared. But again, our budget was limited, as was my skill and our time. I think it turned out pretty nice considering the money we spent.

In my delusional mind, this project was only supposed to take 30 days. I started work the week escrow closed. I’d leave our place at 5 a.m. to work on the house, then go to my full-time job at 9 a.m., get out at 5 p.m., grab fast food, and come here and work until midnight. It took three and a half months, and I only took two days off.

The house is very economical in space and keeps us honest. Like in the kitchen, most people have a couple cans of something, hearts of palm or whatever, that don’t get used and just sit there. We don’t have that luxury. There isn’t room for anything frivolous. The entire house is used all of the time.

I would love for someone to read this story and think, If these people could do it, I can do it. It seems so clichéd, like some weight-loss commercial, but it’s true: It’s doable, if you have the desire.

See more from the Dwell archive on US Modernist.

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California’s First Woman Architect Designed This 1911 Berkeley Home Seeking $2.7M

Set at the top of historic Rose Walk, the lightly updated Arts and Crafts–style residence by Julia Morgan has panoramic views of the San Francisco Bay.

Location: 1400 Le Roy Avenue, Berkeley, California

Price: $2,695,000

Year Built: 1911

Architect: Julia Morgan

Footprint: 3,496 square feet (4 bedrooms, 3.5 baths)

Lot Size: 0.2 Acres

From the Agent: "At the top of Rose Walk in Berkeley’s North Hills stands a home that embodies local history: 1400 Le Roy Avenue, an Arts and Crafts residence designed by pioneering architect Julia Morgan. Morgan, California’s first licensed female architect and the first woman admitted to Paris’s École des Beaux-Arts, would go on to design over 700 buildings including Hearst Castle, the Berkeley City Club, and the Asilomar Conference Grounds. The home is included within Berkeley’s landmark designation of Rose Walk, recognizing both the Maybeck-designed pedestrian corridor and the exceptional collection of homes clustered around it. The home has been thoughtfully updated over the years while maintaining its architectural integrity, offering the character and craftsmanship of a Julia Morgan design with the comfort expected in a contemporary home."

Julia Morgan was posthumously awarded the American Institute of Architects Gold Medal—the organization’s highest honor—in 2014.

Photo by Aerial Canvas

Many of the home’s original details have been preserved, including its multipane wood windows, built-ins, and living room fireplace.

Photo by Aerial Canvas

The home was commissioned by stenographer Jessie D. Wallace. Like many of Morgan’s early clients, she was a professional at a time when women’s roles in the workforce were shifting.

Photo by Aerial Canvas

See the full story on Dwell.com: California’s First Woman Architect Designed This 1911 Berkeley Home Seeking $2.7M
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The Interior Designer Creating Language to Describe Black Decor Styles

Afro Dandyism, Blaxploitation Glam, and Haitian Revival are among the original names Shane V. Charles has coined for aesthetics rooted in the African diaspora, forming the basis of her upcoming book.

When I first saw Shane V. Charles’s Instagram posts defining original decor styles drawn from references across the African diaspora, it felt like she was describing the homes I had always imagined but never had the language for. Over the past year and a half, the Chicago- and Los Angeles-based interior designer and founder of Mild Sauce Studio has introduced her social media following of nearly 90,000 on Instagram and over 150,000 on TikTok to a range of what she calls "interior identities" with names she coined like Blaxploitation Glam, Creole Grandmillennial, and Pan-African Brutalism. Her posts offer casual decor enthusiasts a linguistic and visual reference to styles she’s felt have long existed in Black homes but haven’t yet been formally named. "A lot of us didn’t grow up seeing ourselves in the way our homes and environments were designed," she says.

If you want your home to reflect Trinidadian heritage, for instance, Charles suggests Calypso Moderne, a style that she says blends "Trinidadian carnival flair, Miami Art Deco curves, and the vibrant rhythm of calypso music." Mississippi Delta Deco mixes luxury golds and marble with blues-inspired tones for what she calls "Chicago but also with a Southern twist." Haitian Revival draws on Taíno influence and West African spiritual traditions through earthy textures and hand-beaded textiles. "Think plastered walls and tobacco brown, beaded motifs, altarpiece coffee tables, and art as portal," she explains in one video.

Charles’s work centers on a question rarely addressed in mainstream interiors: What does Black identity actually look like in design? In addition to her social media presence and professional design work, she’s publishing her first book, Interior Identity (tentatively slated for June 2026), which introduces 25 of her original interior design styles. Each outlines a distinct set of materials, palettes, and design principles, along with historical context. I spoke with Charles about why naming these styles matters and how she hopes the book will shift the discussion around identity in interiors. Our conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.

What’s great about what you do is that your language is really specific. Do you see your work as creating a new canon for Black interior design?

Shane V. Charles: That’s a heavy question. So many people have been working in this space well before me, and they’ll continue to do so well after. But this work is a piece of it. I think naming and structuring design creates this academic legitimacy and permanence. The canon-building shifts design from, like, trend cycles to teachable frameworks. We’ve always had this conversation around: What is Black design? Most often, it’s leaned toward a themed or trend approach—prematurely using whatever we’ve seen in Black households or in a friend’s home. We’ve used kuba cloth, with no formal guidance or reference. We all love it, it’s framed in prints, it’s thrown on footstools, but the real question is, how does that relate to identity? It’s part of your everyday environment. How does it relate to you? And what’s the story? Or is it just something that you feel, as an individual, has constantly been used in Black households, and you were like, I’ll use that too, it reminds me of my mom’s house. [Laughs.]

When did you realize there was a void in the design space?

We’ll just use the kuba cloth as an example. One of the hospitality companies that I was working for [in my early career] had its own furniture line, and they introduced the kuba cloth, but with a twist, which is what happens. I saw the impact, but I didn’t necessarily see the credit. Not for myself, but for the usage of the material, referencing the material in that pattern for what it actually is, instead of the remixed version of it. Those contributions to the global design space and understanding, wow, we really are missing the mark in taking up more space here as a culture—that was my driving force.

Interior designer Shane V. Charles founded Mild Sauce Studio in 2019 and soon after started posting social media videos describing decor styles she felt had long existed in Black homes but hadn’t yet been formally named. The response led to her upcoming first book, Interior Identity.

Courtesy Mild Sauce Studio

How did you then go about building a digital audience?

Creators were already taking up space in the design world across TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube. And it was all kind of the same regurgitated information. That’s where I started. I was like, I’ll just say what they’re saying and get used to putting myself out there. I realized that felt extremely inauthentic and not a reflection of my creative self, so I took a break, took a step back, and I was like, I’ll just keep my clients and prioritize that. But then I realized I had the opportunity to be utterly creative in a way that the audience understood. Something as simple as sharing how I would redesign Red Lobster...and the floodgates opened. It was about creating from my own lens and trusting that the work would resonate with the right people at some point. People were very keen to learn more. They were booking time with me nonstop. The feedback was amazing.

Can you tell me more about the book?

It’s a combination of design styles and philosophies. Like, Bauhaus pulls from Germany, and wabi-sabi pulls from Japan—they’re both philosophies that are constant reference points in the design space. They both have this globally influential structure, which is why when I say them, they resonate. The styles in the book are crafted using the same methods, practices, research, and studies that were used to arrive at the influential structures we’re so used to referencing.

Let’s talk about some of those styles. When I see Harlem Deco, I think of Art Deco as a jumping-off point, of course. How do you come up with these combinations?

With Harlem Deco, I’m thinking about what happened during the Harlem Renaissance and how that influenced so much of who we are as a people in terms of textures and colors. Art Deco was relevant at that time, which is how I arrived at that name instead of calling it, like, Harlem Bauhaus. I married the Harlem Renaissance to the Art Deco movement and layered on more of that cultural relevance. You wouldn’t use Pan-African wabi-sabi…I mean, people can do whatever they want. [Laughs.] But will it make sense and hold substance? My stance would be no. I don’t know that it would carry the same amount of weight. There’s so much that influences design language. So as long as we’re willing to borrow from what already exists, it gives it breadth, and it gives it legs.

When you’re consulting and designing rooms specifically for Black clientele, what principles or questions guide you?

Every client, every project has its own direction and palette. I get pulled in a billion different ways. Especially when it comes to collaborating with my team. It’s about learning more about the client or the environment that the space is in. What city or country is it in? What’s the background on this client? What’s their upbringing? What do they care about and not care about? There’s subtle historical context, and sometimes it’s deeper than others. What type of architecture are we referencing? And then how do we integrate that language into the overall design direction? Obviously, spatial rhythm and color theory are natural go-tos that help drive a project. Those are the fundamentals.

Do clients request design styles based on your social media posts?

For a recent project, the client specifically requested Haitian Revival. Haitian Revival is going to look one way in the book, and it will settle [into the client’s home] in another way. Now that there’s a name for it, this client, who is from Haiti and has lived there, can say, ‘Here’s how I want this to show up for me.’ Instead of, ‘I’m Haitian. How do I bring in a Haitian flag and put it on my wall?’

For people encountering these terms for the first time, what do you hope they feel or recognize about themselves?

I hope they see themselves in the work. My hope is that it gives breath to everything that’s been missing, but also moves us toward taking up space and taking ownership of who we are as a culture and a people.

Do you see naming these design styles as an act of reclamation, or is it more about inserting Black people into the global design narrative?

I think "inserting" us in the narrative suggests that we have not been present. To me, this is like you’re building your own table and inviting the conversation in. It goes back to ownership. I don’t know if we’re reclaiming. It’s giving the [decor styles] a definition that they need to live and breathe. We’ve been having this conversation, and we’ve been a part of it.

Which of the "interior identities" in the book feel most personal to you?

Black Nouveau Fusion and Mississippi Delta Deco. Black Nouveau Fusion is what we saw in films like ATL. There’s this Chinese calligraphy and a strong Asian presence in a lot of the furniture because of what was happening with furniture during that time. It’s why it was so prevalent in Black households. That resonates because I saw it growing up. Mississippi Delta Deco has the strongest cultural reference for me because it references our ancestors’ migration from the South to the North. My mother came from Mississippi to Chicago, and her family carried a lot of what references this design style [in their living spaces].

If the industry were truly inclusive, how might interior design education look different?

One of my junior designers, who’s also a Parsons alum, has spoken about how going through the educational system kind of stripped them of their creativity from a diasporic perspective, being that it is Eurocentric. I challenge that because I see how we show up in this space, but there is a lack of inclusivity. I think design schools would start to integrate curriculum from the diaspora, structured in a way that’s digestible and seamlessly integrated. The work is being done. Are you willing to platform it? Creating this work took an immense amount of time, but it was a breeze because it was me speaking about the world I exist and live in.

Top image: all photos courtesy Mild Sauce Studio

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For $2M, You Can Land a ’50s Home in a Utopian Massachusetts Community

The refreshed midcentury is set in Six Moon Hill, a landmark, progressive neighborhood designed by the eight members of the Architects Collaborative for their friends and families.

Location: 32 Moon Hill Rd, Lexington, Massachusetts

Price: $1,950,000

Year Built: 1950

Architect: The Architects Collaborative

Footprint: 2,220 square feet (4 bedrooms, 3 baths)

Lot Size: 0.49 Acres

From the Agent: "Nestled within a nationally recognized midcentury-modern enclave, this historically significant home offers curated features throughout. The sunlit foyer features a window seat and double closet. A living room with a fireplace and built-in desk flows into the spacious dining room. The chef’s kitchen features stainless-steel appliances, an island with bar seating, a gas cooktop, a glass tile backsplash, double wall ovens, two sinks, window seats, and sliding glass doors to the patio and yard. Upstairs is the primary bedroom with two double closets and en suite bath, plus three more bedrooms and two full baths. The lower level includes a  family room with walkout access, an office with built-ins, laundry, and storage."

Now listed on the National Register of Historic Places, the Six Moon Hill neighborhood in which this house stands was designed as a utopian community. 

Photo by Drone Home Media

Photo by Drone Home Media

Skylights and walls of glass bring natural light into the kitchen and dining room.

Photo by Drone Home Media

See the full story on Dwell.com: For $2M, You Can Land a ’50s Home in a Utopian Massachusetts Community
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Construction Diary: How Japanese Minka Homes Inspired a Designer’s Coastal Cabin in Maine

"The root inspiration was how enchanted I was seeing folk houses during trips to Japan through the years," says Scott Stultz. "I thought, ‘This part of Maine is in some ways a lot like Japan: heavily forested and dominated by the sea.’"

Designer Scott Stultz waited a long time for the opportunity to design and build his own house from scratch—in many ways, it’s the culmination of his 30-plus-year-long career. Trained in environmental design and architecture, he has conceived custom kitchens, furniture, baths, and residential interiors as the founder of Scott A. Stultz & Associates, and as a consulting designer for other brands.

Scott and his partner, Ina Schonberg, started looking for a place to call home together while they were living in Pennsylvania and the Washington, D.C. suburbs, respectively. They initially considered upstate New York, but as Ina was visiting her son in Maine, she came across a 12-acre wooded parcel for sale on Cape Rosier, near Penobscot Bay. 

Scott Stultz has worked on kitchens, furnishings, and baths over the course of his 30-plus-year career—but this was the first time he designed and built a home from the ground up.

5iveLeaf Photography

Coincidentally, it was just a mile away from the camp Scott’s children had attended for seven consecutive summers. The couple bought the property shortly after discovering it.

Scott knew he wanted to design the house. The son of a Japanese immigrant, he drew inspiration from the traditional minka (or "people’s houses," built from the 1600s-1800s) he’d fallen in love with on his first visit to Japan as a teenager—and he and Ina named the project Shinrin No Ie, which is Japanese for "forest home."

The home Scott designed and built along with his partner, Ina Schonberg, occupies a 12-acre wooded property, a short drive from the coast of Penobscot Bay (seen at the top of the photo). At the bottom right  is an existing single-room straw bale cottage that was moved from the area where the new house now stands.

5iveLeaf Photography

By coincidence, Scott was in talks with the custom cabinetry company Dutch Made about collaborating on a new kitchen series, which became known as the Katachi collection. It draws inspiration from both Japanese and Scandinavian design principles, and Scott designed Shinrin No Ie to showcase the line’s myriad possibilities. Read on to learn how the couple’s dream home came together.

The home’s steeply pitched roof, inspired by traditional Japanese farmhouses known as minkas, is designed to withstand Maine’s snowy winters.

5iveLeaf Photography

See the full story on Dwell.com: Construction Diary: How Japanese Minka Homes Inspired a Designer’s Coastal Cabin in Maine
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Brick Portals Channel Light and Air in This Multigenerational Home in India

The mazelike floor plan culminates at a set of steps in a shared courtyard that doubles as a performance space.

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: Solapur, India

Architect: PMA Madhushala / @pma.madhushala

Footprint: 1,991 square feet

Builder: Ajit Wadekar and Krishnamurty Panchal

Photographer: Hemant Patil

From the Architect: "This house is designed for a small multigenerational family: a couple, their two children, and aging grandparents. The program reflects the family’s belief in vastu and includes three bedrooms along with essential facilities. An important influence on the design came from the children’s deep interest in classical music, leading to a dedicated space for practice and performance.

"The final layout emerged from a careful balance between the client’s expectations and the site’s contextual constraints. The southwest corner offered greater openness, while the north and east sides were constrained by surrounding development. The house was first imagined as an L-shaped volume enclosing the northeast side for privacy and opening toward the southwest through verandahs extending into a large garden. However, the client’s strong insistence on placing the bedroom in the southwest corner, as per vastu, led to the addition of a cuboidal block in the southwest, creating a composition of two distinct volumes: the initially planned L-shaped block and the newly added concrete cuboid.

"Placing this cuboidal block in front of the L-shaped volume creates an open-to-sky, L-shaped interstitial zone between them. Within this in-between space, a central courtyard is carved to physically and visually connect the two blocks. The courtyard incorporates a staircase that links various levels while allowing natural light to filter through. The open southern side acts as a wind-catcher, directing air into the courtyard, where a body of water cools it before it spreads through the house. Upper openings release warm air, and together the south court, central courtyard, skylights, and wall openings support natural light and passive ventilation throughout the day.

"To establish spatial continuity and a cohesive identity, key functions such as the living room, kitchen-dining, family space, and study, are placed across staggered levels. These spaces are oriented inward, creating layered visual connections along the central stair. On the ground floor, the living areas extend into a shared courtyard that transforms into a performance space or a ‘rangmanch’ with stepped seating that supports intimate musical baithaks and gatherings.

"The design extends beyond functional requirements to reflect on the identity of place, drawing from Solapur’s architectural history. Before colonial influence, the city’s built fabric was shaped by traditional Wadas, climate-responsive, inward-facing homes constructed with local materials and craftsmanship. Over time, these gave way to more formal, symmetrical designs and industrial materials introduced during colonial and postcolonial periods. The L-shaped block recalls these traditional sensibilities with its exposed brick walls and a sloping roof that nearly touches the ground. Built with locally sourced brick and crafted by local artisans, it reinterprets vernacular values in a contemporary way. In contrast, the adjoining cuboidal volume draws from the architectural language of the colonial and postcolonial eras. Its exposed concrete walls reinterpret stone as poured concrete, with layered surfaces and subtle offsets, forming an Indo-brutalist identity. The block concludes with a modest planted terrace offering a quiet pause within the composition."

Photo: Hemant Patil

Photo: Hemant Patil

Photo: Hemant Patil

See the full story on Dwell.com: Brick Portals Channel Light and Air in This Multigenerational Home in India