DESIGNING DINING
At home with buzzy restaurant architect Brett Terpeluk.
When he visits Italy, architect Brett Terpeluk can pass for a native. He’s of Ukrainian descent but speaks fluent Italian; and with his dark, flowing hair and beard, rocks a certain opera-star look. After several years working in Genoa and marrying a Genovese woman, the culture is part of his identity and informs his work. “Italy is a country where creative expression and tradition are deeply rooted in every aspect of life,” he says. “It’s also a place where the artisanal hand is seamlessly integrated into society.”
Since relocating to San Francisco a decade ago, he’s been designing spaces of unusual refinement that have a personal touch, something that is is not always discernible in contemporary architecture. He’s known for his restaurant designs, with credits that include Farina
in the Mission District and current hot spot Liholiho Yacht Club in the Tendernob. However, his latest projects range from a 12,000-squarefoot cliff-side Malibu home to a Rube Goldberg-esque exhibit for a Boy Scouts of America center in West Virginia to San Francisco’s Lava Mae shower buses for the homeless.
“Brett has an incredible sense of materials, which he combines with a really creative lens; this lends itself to unique design solutions,” says Noreen Hughes, a project manager for the Presidio Trust, who has overseen Terpeluk’s work on several projects.
Historical inspiration
Terpeluk grew up in the semirural landscape of Bucks County, Pa. He spent a lot of time in the woods, marveling at the practicality of the old stone farmhouses, built out of what was unearthed from clearing the fields; he also loved finding fragments of old bottles, farm equipment and other artifacts from early frontier civilization.
“I had this profound interest in how these objects were made,” he says. He was also passionate about drawing and sketching. For his undergrad education, he went to Princeton with the intention of pursuing a master’s of fine arts degree. But he found that architecture combined his interests in art, technology and materials. His first job after finishing a master’s at Rice University in Houston was at a midsize firm in the city, helping to design medical buildings and office towers.
Fortunately, the head of the firm sympathized with Terpeluk’s desire to do more ambitious projects. He connected the young architect with the internationally renowned architect Renzo Piano, who happened to be looking for some help. Terpeluk was invited to Genoa for a two-week trial. Upon arrival, his jaw dropped. “The office is this light-filled jewel box on the Mediterranean. You take a glass funicular up the hill and walk into what looks like a greenhouse,” he recalls. “It just seemed unreal, it was so unlike any other work environment I’d seen.”
A decade with Renzo
The two-week trial turned into a one-year contract, which was extended to another year. Altogether, Terpeluk spent 10 years working for Piano. As the project architect on the Nasher Sculpture Center in Dallas and two office towers in Sydney, he had the chance to see the buildings from the design stage through to the end of construction.
“Working for Renzo gave me this amazing level of international experience down in the trenches, seeing how that high level of design is executed,” he says. He also spent a lot of time building models in the office’s workshop.
“The model shop is the cathedral and lifeblood of the office,” Terpeluk recalls. “It was a continued source of inspiration, layered with countless prototypes and exquisitely hand-carved wooden building components.”
In the midst of this intense professional development, a mutual friend introduced him to Monica Viarengo, a landscape designer who had also trained as an architect. “After we attended a masquerade party, she asked me if I wanted an adventure,” says Terpeluk. “I said yes, and we proceeded on a road trip to a garden installation of hers near Rome in her small red Fiat, which had a massive bundle of branches strapped to the roof. That’s how it started.”
Six years into his Italian immersion program, Terpeluk decided it was time to go out on his own. He asked if he could transfer to Piano’s next U.S. project, which was the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco. He and Viarengo moved here and got married. While they enjoyed the area’s natural attractions and multicultural diversity, they also talked about how much they missed a traditional Genovese snack.
“In Genoa, you have your coffee with a slice of hot, salty focaccia,” Terpeluk says. Viarengo talked to a friend of the family, who had an idea and wanted to invest in it; Viarengo’s father found a chef; and the proposed focacceria turned into a full-scale restaurant called Farina.
Passion project
While overseeing work on the academy, Terpeluk devoted every spare minute to Farina, which opened at the end of 2007. With its custom tables and seating from Costa Rican hardwood, bars pieced together from recycled marble sinks and drains from a scrapyard in Genoa, and high-design red chandeliers, the restaurant was clearly a labor of love. He followed it up with Farina Pizza, creating a notable ceiling decoupaged with Italian comic book covers. More recently, he designed Liholiho Yacht Club with cantilevered booths and benches — no table bases or chair legs to smash into — and a glowing backsplash of yellow tile around the open kitchen.
“Brett has a real love for food,” says Jeff Hanak, the co-owner of Liholiho, Nopa and Nopalito. “From working in Italy, he understands how restaurants are such public spaces, and is very proud to match the people who are working at the restaurant with the design.” Opening any minute now is Cordial in SoMa, a cocktail bar; Terpeluk was inspired by vintage apothecaries, giving it a long mahoganyand-brass bar and glassfront cabinets.
He and Viarengo often collaborate on projects — he does the architecture, she does the landscape — although they’ve learned from experience that it’s better if they don’t share a physical office. As they give a tour of the Bernal Heights home they share with their 5-yearold daughter, Olivia, they talk about their plans for future renovations when work slows down a bit. Someday, they will get around to planting roses in the side yard so that Viarengo can make Italian rose syrup for desserts — and la dolce vita will be that much sweeter.