OUT OF SIGHT
A couple’s Mill Valley home strikes a delicate balance between nature and privacy.
After their two sons left the Bay Area for college, Ross and Nancy Goldstein traded their traditional home in Mill Valley for their dream house on Horse Hill, a residential enclave located just across the nature preserve north of the Tiburon Wye. “Loft,” “barn,” “modern” were a few words that Nancy tossed out to their architects at Aidlin Darling Design in San Francisco. And, just like that, a vision for a sophisticated “agricultural shed” was born.
Privacy was key for the couple. “In our travels around the world, we saw the concept of a courtyard in a lot of different cultures,” says Ross. “A courtyard gives a sense of protection and makes the home feel like a sanctuary.” Only a garage window is visible from the street, but for guests welcomed through the entrance, it’s clear where all the light goes — first to the atrium and then to the main space, known in the architecture plans as the “great hall,” where a beautiful dappling find its way through the deck overhang.
The atrium houses a mobile-like sculpture by artist Martin Soto Climent, who drove from Mexico to construct it on-site. “Some friends get it right away; others walk in and say, ‘Are those windshields?’” says Ross, grinning. In the right light, the panes simultaneously act like a
prism and draw attention to a primitive painting by local artist and family friend Zio Ziegler. Provocative modern art, a nod to the raw aesthetic of the home, is just one of the couple’s shared passions.
Husband-and-wife designers Susan Collins and Christopher Weir of Sausalito’s Studio Collins Weir balanced the industrial architecture with natural textiles and warm woods. A eucalyptus dining table, for example, had a former life as famed British sculptor David Nash’s workbench. Collins and Weir had the slab refinished, preserving a few character-building chainsaw markings.
“Susan was really helpful in finding artifacts that would take the edge off our industrial aesthetic,” says Ross. Authoritatively watching over the table is a François Bard painting of a person with folded arms that Nancy, a member of the Modern Arts Council executive committee, had feverishly hunted down. “When we went to build, I made sure that the architects knew this piece had to be a focal point,” she says.
To complement the raw-steel hearth in the living room, Collins paired two red Poul Kjaerholm lounge chairs with a gray cotton-linen sofa by Flexform. “The sofa looks kind of like airport furniture, but it’s so elegant and beautifully crafted,” she says. A custom coffee table displays art books and travel souvenirs such as a collection of padlocks from around the world.
The great hall is what Ross calls the heartbeat of the house. “In the summertime, we can break the plane between inside and outside by opening up the doors. There’s a great flow from the deck to the backyard to the dining room,” he says. With Mount Tamalpais as an impressive backdrop, the whole space becomes a natural spot for festive gatherings big and small.
The bedrooms are in private wings on either side of the courtyard. One side comprises two bedrooms for their grown sons and Ross’ office. “When the boys are home and I’m in my office, it tends to take on a masculine feel,” he says. The men share a love of bike racing, but Nancy is always game for a ride, too — the couple cycle and collect art around the world. As an homage to the family sport, Collins introduced a Max Lipsey chair made out of bicycle parts into the oldest son’s bedroom.
The opposite wing is home to Nancy’s office and the master suite, for which Collins designed a walnut bed with
“Some friends get it right away; others walk in and say, ‘Are those windshields?’”
leather side tables and a carbonized-oak dresser. A handmade rug that the Goldsteins brought back from Turkey inspired the master bedroom’s color palette of blues, grays and a hint of plum. Folds in the lightweight wool window coverings mimic the ripples in the zinc corrugated walls. “We’re not into tassels and trim,” says Collins. “It’s about finding beauty in simplicity.”
From the master suite, Ross can walk through the courtyard to his office without having to take the trip through the 4,000-square-foot interior. Once there, the retired psychologist writes short stories, something he picked up after self-publishing his first novel, “Chain Reaction,” a coming-of-age tale set in the world of professional cycling. (It was eventually optioned for a movie). Peering over his writing desk are four works of art that seem almost reserved compared with the edgier pieces around the home. Nevertheless, they are Ross’ favorites: large blackand-white portraits of Nancy and his sons. “The photos really touch me,” he says. “The photographer really captured the essence of all of us.”