Those who have undertaken a restoration project belong to a special fraternity, and only they know the true meaning of dreams, ambition, frustration, resolve, chaos, regret, the unexpected, the disastrous, the resurrection, the slow joy of completion, the big reveal. And the endless endlessness of dust.
The thrill of many ancient properties lies, within that first moment of stepping through an entranceway, in the revelation of what lies within. Picture an ancient Moroccan riad buried among the backstreets of the medina, its modest, unadorned walls veiling verdant oases and fountains. Or the Moorish whitewashed houses in Andalucian towns, where beyond high façades you step into patios ablaze with bougainvillea and citrus trees.
Such concealment is the architectural expression of a centuries-old way of life. It’s a way of separating the public and the private, the hectic from the calm. It’s also a social leveller, a way of concealing one’s wealth to passers-by.
For anyone taking on the renovation of such a property, where hidden courtyards might hold a thousand tales, that sense of revealing the unknown never loses its lustre.
Gardens, if private, provide escape. Even if what you’re leaving behind at the locked door to the street is a city as achingly beautiful as Venice, nothing supplants the seclusion of sun-dappled walls and the serenity of nature’s evening. (palazzocristo.com)
“The hidden garden, not only in the middle of Venice but in the middle of San Marco, was a total surprise,” interior designer Frédéric Tubau de Cristo recalls. “We first approached it down dark, narrow streets wondering if this would work. Then we opened the door to the garden and we instantly knew.” He is talking of the moment in 2018 when he and Anna Covre, his wife and co-founder of the design studio Palazzo Cristo, discovered the 2,100 sq ft secret garden in their latest renovation project.
Over the past seven years (including a highly inconvenient two-year hiatus where the planning authorities closed down during the pandemic ), they’ve worked on turning a 15th-century palace in one of the most sought-after spots in Venice, between Piazza San Marco and the Rialto Bridge, into a residence with six individual suites, each spanning an entire floor. The centrepiece is the sun-dappled garden, a rose-pink sanctuary of shrubs and statues, locally-made glass lamps and tall urns full of flowers. It doesn’t detract from the experience to know you’re standing in a house once owned by the composer of The Barber of Seville and other operas, Gioachino Rossini.
This is the studio’s second renovation project in Venice. The first saw them transform an historic building overlooking a 13th-century basilica in Castello, the largest of the six sestieri (burgh areas) of Venice. Then came the opportunity to buy the Rossini property. It was, Tubau collects his words: “In a state of despair.” But at least it belonged to just one family, “which is unusual for Venice and meant no need to get the permission of multiple neighbors.”
Everyone’s favorite allegory of life: the before (above) and after (below) shots that document adversity overcome. Palazzo Cristo showcases this year’s interior color swatch dream. Not Magnolia, not Swan’s Neck, but near the drapery on the right, Italian Meringue. (© Frederic Tubau de Cristo)
In a city that relies on canals instead of roads, the project came with the challenges of transporting materials, including large slabs of marble. “It took 300 boat journeys.” Fortunately the building has direct water access, lightening the logistical load.
Crucial to the success of the project, Tubau adds, was “profiting from the lagoon’s know-how.” He refers to the legions of local craftspeople who today still employ age-old techniques with wood, ironwork, marble and silk that bring artisanal beauty into the elegant, pared back interiors. “We sourced the most celebrated craftsmen in the Veneto region. Every lamp, sconce and piece of glassware is from the island of Murano.”
The renovation also blends original features such as the original brick walls and timber-beamed ceilings with some modern structural add-ons rarely found in Venice’s historic palazzi: underfloor heating, high-level noise insulation and, rarest of all, “two elevators!”
Good bones. Thoughtfully renovated and restored historic residences like the storied Palazzo Cristo San Marco, once home to the composer Gioachino Rossini, deserve to be resurrected from the rubble and dressed up for the opera. (Palazzo Cristo)
Six thousand miles west, little has changed over the last two or three centuries in the cobbled streets of San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. Its centro histórico is a UNESCO-protected World Heritage Site.
And that’s precisely why people from all over the world (albeit mainly North Americans) move to this filmically pretty city to buy and renovate properties in a place where every street makes you feel you’re stepping back in time.
Take Casa de la Espiga a 16th-century house, once the city’s first bakery. The smell of bread and sweet bread (pan dulce) would have wafted down the street in 1717, but today you could easily walk by its sober, terracotta-colored walls without a second glance. “People like this style of architecture as it’s a way of staying under the radar and not drawing attention to yourself,” says Sarah Bender, an agent with broker CDR San Miguel.
Different country, different city, same principles. The garden at Casa de la Espiga puts water center of the oasis, spreading coolness and shade against the Mexican sun. (CDR San Miguel)
Step over the threshold and you enter a vibrant courtyard encircled by stone-arched buildings. San Miguel has long been a city of color, and inside and out Casa de la Espiga is a riot of rich pinks, mustard yellows and blues, all set against red-tiled floors. There are high beamed ceilings, ironwork staircases that descend into rooms blurring inside and out. Fountains and fireplaces and hidden terraces are bathed in luxuriant, warming tones.
The vision behind the renovation of the main hacienda-style main house (Espiga) and its adjacent Moorish-style guest house (Casa de las Estrellas) came from the previous owner Ann Maurice, the American TV interior designer and house-stager. She and her husband completely renovated the house from a near ruin. They created the Moroccan-inspired design and brought back to life the colonial hacienda style.
Renovating here often means working with and around thick, ancient walls up to 80cm deep. Many hacienda-style houses grow over time, bit by bit, so they don’t immediately lend themselves to open-plan living. But within the walls, you can pretty much do what you want – as per standard planning law in most civic jurisdictions, it seems, across the world.
Renovating here often means working with and around thick, ancient walls up to 80cm deep. Many hacienda-style houses grow over time, bit by bit, so they don’t immediately lend themselves to open-plan living.
Such is the demand for historic homes in San Miguel that a small pink cottage called Casa Rosa, built around 1940-1950 when all around it was hills, has recently gone under contract for US$2.5 million to an American buyer – who has yet to see it in person.
Set high up in the sought-after neighborhood of Atascadero, with views across the town, the cottage was pivotal to San Miguel’s prolific art scene in the 1950s, as home to a painter linked to the Mexican surrealist movement that included Pedro Friedeberg and Leonora Carrington.
“When the current British owner bought it just before the pandemic, the house was almost a teardown – but it was still full of paintings,” Bender comments. “In that area, it was such a rare opportunity. Similar properties in needing total renovation – if you can find one – cost at least $500,000, just for the land essentially. But labor is inexpensive and really good, and the owner oversaw all the work herself during lockdown, with a skeleton team of builders.”
From small cottage to stately hacienda, as reincarnations go Casa Rosa in San Miguel de Allende extends comfort beyond the ordinary. (CDR San Miguel)
The transformation from a simple cottage on a large, unloved plot to a large, elegant hacienda-style property blends colonial features such as its wrap-around verandah with French farmhouse style. On the other side of the garden, separated from the main house by orange trees and an aviary is a smaller casita.
And the best thing about this unexpected oasis of calm and greenery that is classic San Miguel de Allende? Only those let into the secret will ever know it’s there.
Main image: Shutterstock
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