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Incredible lightness

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Architect Dennis Gibbens has long loved urban living, with home just steps away from favorite restaurants and shops. So in 2005 he bought a vacant lot on Abbot Kinney Boulevard in Venice, where run-down storefronts had been transformed into a vibrant, trendsetting community. His vision: a three-story project with retail at street level and his personal living space on the upper floors.

“Abbot Kinney is one of the few pedestrian streets in Los Angeles, and the great thing is it’s remained unique with so many independently owned businesses,” Gibbens says. “I wanted to contribute to the renaissance of this part of town and knew right away it would be with a mixed-use building. I liked the idea of having a modern-day L.A. version of a Parisian townhouse, where the owner lives above the shop.”

The convenience of the location, however, presented the same challenges posed by many urban sites — the need to maximize privacy and minimize noise.

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Gibbens’ solution: While a glass storefront bares all to passers-by, the upper levels of the building are wrapped in a shell of board-formed concrete that exudes a sense of raw strength and permanence. Light largely streams in not through windows but through a glassed-in central courtyard, skylights and a transparent floor between levels, creating a space that feels private and protected, yet bright and open.

Gibbens started by setting his 3,500-square-foot living space back from the bustling street. A locked steel gate at the sidewalk opens to an outdoor staircase, which then rises to the sunny courtyard on the second floor. The living room, dining room and kitchen unfold around the patio’s glass walls.

Three bedrooms and three bathrooms occupy the third floor, and a large deck accommodates outdoor entertaining on the roof. While a wall of white stucco guards privacy up top, a concrete wall shields the second-floor balcony below.

“I’ve always loved concrete, especially the way it’s been used by Louis Kahn and today’s Japanese architects,” he says. “It has a public gravitas. In this case, because you can see the grain of the 2-by-4s, it also lends a certain warmth and texture to the interiors.”

Openings in Gibbens’ concrete and stucco shell allow him to peer down at the street below — during the Venice Art Walk, say, or the Abbot Kinney Festival in September. Dual-paned glass doors and windows also help muffle the din of traffic.

“I definitely hear fire trucks, but it doesn’t bother me,” Gibbens says. “It’s just a reminder that I’m living in a city.”

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Given the narrow footprint of the 30-by-90-foot lot sandwiched between two existing buildings, Gibbens obtained a variance that let him build from one property line to the other. The move gained extra floor space that otherwise would have been lost on 3-foot-wide setbacks, but it also reduced the number of possible windows. To ensure that the home didn’t feel like a dark, dreary bunker, strategically chosen parts of the exterior are designed in glass.

“It’s as if that protective shell cracked open in places to let light and air inside,” he says.

The central courtyard floods the second level with sunlight during the day and exposes the interiors to glimpses of nearby palm trees. Gibbens’ imaginative use of skylights and transparent floors make the rest of the home just as airy and light.

On the third level, three circular openings puncture the roof to wash the hallway in light. A slab of tempered glass underfoot permits the same light to penetrate the floor and illuminate the second level as well.

“The skylights were a way to bring light into the middle of the house, where there aren’t any windows, and the clear floor actually lets you see the full volume,” Gibbens says.

In the master bedroom, Gibbens’ bed is positioned under a soaring skylight inspired by the “Skyspace” installations of artist James Turrell. Likewise, the open shower in the master bathroom benefits from a low ceiling hollowed out with an enormous round skylight reminiscent of Le Corbusier. In both rooms, the abundance of light feels like a luxury in and of itself.

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To furnish the house, Gibbens chose a mix of designer appointments, antiques and custom pieces in a palette that tends toward the light-colored and the light-reflective. Gibbens paired a Patricia Urquiola dining table with origami-like legs of polished aluminum with Ronan and Erwan Bouroullec chairs in a subtly shimmery origami-like upholstery. The pristine white screen for projection viewing, evocative of a midcentury television, and the sleek white cabinet hiding audio-visual components were Gibbens’ designs. Elsewhere, stainless-steel stairway handrails gleam, lacquered storage walls shine and terrazzo tiles glitter with flecks of mica.

“These finishes have a more sophisticated and urbane quality that contrast with the texture of the concrete,” Gibbens says. “They make the rooms feel even bigger and brighter.”

Without a garden on terra firma, Gibbens indulged in a spacious deck with a built-in grill for weekend barbecues and a long, cushioned bench for lounging under the open sky. There’s even an outdoor shower for the dog days of summer. The teak decking, steel pipe rail and porthole-like opening in the wall make apt nautical references so close to the beach.

At street level, Gibbens filled the 650-square-foot commercial space (and began to generate rental income) by inviting the proprietors of one of his favorite stores up the street to move in. Keiko and Taku Shinomoto, who sell modern home accessories from Japan at Tortoise General Store, signed on and last year opened a second location, Tortoise, devoted to limited-edition and vintage Japanese art and objects. In the months to come, the Shinomotos and Gibbens want to collaborate on salons for Tortoise’s visiting artists.

More than a year after moving in, Gibbens clearly derives much pleasure from the urban location. First-time visitors marvel at how well he has balanced the public and private aspects of living right on one of Venice’s busiest thoroughfares. It is, he acknowledges, the best of both worlds: “I can be part of what’s going on just outside, or I can retreat to the peace and quiet just beyond my gate.”

home@latimes.com

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