Ramses I probably didn't sleep here, but a few lesser-known Egyptian mummies did. They had a lot of company, too: mostly heads, the shrunken kind; also full-bodied animals, the stuffed kind, some with two heads, others, sadly, with just one. And then, of course, there were all the skulls.
Even though all of that – plus the electric chair and collection of primitive weapons – was gone when interior designer Pamela Galindo received keys to her 6,000 square foot condo in 2012, she felt the need to clean the slate.
"The walls were dark red and black. He actually had a desiccated human body in his office," she says, shuddering at the memory of her home's former tenant. "The whole thing just creeps me out: That's why I gutted it right back to the brick … I didn't want any of that death hanging around, you know?"
The wide hall resembles a gallery, which pulls visitors past the bedrooms to the living spaces.
Andrea Simone
Makes sense, especially when you consider Ms. Galindo's loft on Wellington Street West was once home to Billy Jamieson (1954-2011), Canada's foremost collector of macabre oddities, tribal art, taxidermy and Egyptian artifacts, including the long lost Ramses I, who had lived in obscurity at the Niagara Falls Museum for more than a century before Mr. Jamieson bought the contents in 1999 (he eventually repatriated the good Pharaoh back to Egypt).
Oh, and Mr. Jamieson was found dead here, on the couch, by his cleaning lady.
A living space in the home of Pamela Galindo.
Andrea Simone
Today, even though architect Neil Ironside has repositioned every wall, raised the formerly low ceiling, and exposed the gorgeous I-beams and steel columns, a few curiosities do remain.
Indeed, enter the foyer and one encounters the most unusual door to the home office Ms. Galindo shares with husband, Mario, who owns Vancouver-based Key Marine. "These are from Roseneath [Ont.]," she explains. "They're jail doors, they date to about 1870." Inside the office, a high-end, modular, Swiss shelving unit by architect Fritz Haller rubs elbows with drapes found in Ikea's bargain bin.
The exposed red brick creates a nice dialogue with the building across the street.
Andrea Simone
Past the guest bath and their son's bedroom, on the opposite wall, is the entry to the master bedroom. While it's notable for the warm red brick Mr. Ironside was able to uncover – a nice dialogue has been created with the neighbouring warehouse building – and the his-and-hers walk-in closets that lead to a most-curious solid-marble tub (that literally weighs a tonne), what's really unusual is that all of these private rooms are positioned at the front of the unit. It's only at the halfway point that things open up and the couple's iconic "Mah Jong" lounge sofa spreads out.
"Normally, you wouldn't enter a residence at the bedroom level, but that's kind of what we're doing here," explains Mr. Ironside. "By having the wide hall and making it like a gallery, there is visual interest to pull you through, and you don't see the bedrooms as you walk past."
The kitchen was placed near the rear of the unit to maximize light and views of King St.
Andrea Simone
The largest windows with the best light and views of King Street are at the back of the unit, so the photon-hungry dining and kitchen areas were placed as close to these as possible. When Mr. Jamieson lived here, there was a very wide, three-storey "well" beside these windows, which meant light had trouble penetrating into the main floor of the space. While the well was retained, Mr. Ironside made it much smaller, which allowed the kitchen to move from the centre of the unit to the back.
"It's hard to argue against logic," says Mr. Ironside, simply. "Those early decisions happened quite quickly, there was no debate," he continues as Ms. Galindo nods in agreement. "What was built was the result of two hours and a glass of scotch."
The cappuccino nook can be separated from the laundry room by a laser-cut metal screen.
Neil Ironside
And speaking of libations, the Galindos, curiously, have a cozy nook separate from the kitchen dedicated to cappuccino. Behind this is the laundry room, which can be closed off courtesy of a laser-cut, metal screen designed by Marco Pecota, who runs design shop Pekota in The Junction. "Actually, we have a little ritual," Mr. Galindo says. "Every morning we have our coffee together … we sit in the Mah Jong and we talk for about an hour – every day, phones off."
Opposite the cappuccino machine is an Aberfoyle flea market find: an 1830s farmhouse cabinet that has been faced on one side with laminate as it was originally a built-in.
The kitchen makes liberal use of laminate.
Andrea Simone
There's laminate in the kitchen, too – lots of it. An odd choice when one considers the couple once owned a stone business in Vancouver. Ms. Galindo, however, says she loves the "humble material."
"It cleans so beautifully, it's durable, and it's warm." In addition to cabinets and countertops faced with white, textured, and chartreuse Formica, there's a freestanding pantry cabinet, complete with a Postmodern gabled roof, done in the material also.
The ceramic flooring looks like swirly, polished metal.
Andrea Simone
The couple's previous life as stone and tile importers paid off when deciding on flooring, however. Since the weight of poured concrete wasn't an option, the couple flew to the Aparici ceramics factory in Alcora, Spain, to see the owner and arrange for a shipment of 29 pallets. Most of that material is now underfoot and it looks, incredibly, like swirly, polished metal (Mr. Galindo says the tiles are baked four times to achieve the finish). Decorative tiles – some with leopard print, others with Lichtenstein-style comic book panels – grace other areas of the home.
Down the lovely, sculptural stairs – created by Pekota – one finds a guestroom with a large window to drink in light, and, on the lowest level (which connects the unit to the parking garage), a cave-like wine storage room and a home gym. Rising up along the east wall, an old chimney stack with a bricked-in fireplace stands sentry. For part of the time during the almost two-year long, one million dollar renovation project, the couple lived down here in a makeshift apartment.
Mr. Ironside calls the Galindo residence "slow architecture." And while it would have been quicker (and cheaper) to simply open up the space and allow his clients to truck in their stuff, a home that entices and excites, that encourages movement to discover its nooks and crannies, as this one does, takes real planning and time. And, for Ms. Galindo's part, to constantly delight the eye and the fingertips with different finishes and textures is much like what a seasoned curator does when mounting a groundbreaking exhibit.
Both combine to produce a home that's artful yet casual, industrial yet elegant … and with nary a shrunken head in sight.