A Glumm Home — Coconut Grove
The house didn't need reinventing — just rearranging.
A waterfront refresh in Coconut Grove.
Not every project starts from nothing. Some start with a house that already knows what it wants to be — and just needs someone to look at it a little closer.
Nothing here was replaced. Almost everything was reconsidered.
A sofa turned toward the water instead of away from it.
One new thing built by hand — a steel shelf with room to see through.
The art came down, and went back up in a different order.
And on the balcony, a hammock, for the view the house had been quietly ignoring.
Already there
The foundation was never the problem
A sculptural purple form, two constellations of ink on canvas, a coffee table already dressed in the right books — none of it new. The house had good instincts from the start. The work was choosing which of them to say louder.
Between rooms
A wall you can still see through
The one built piece: a black steel shelf, open on both sides, standing between the kitchen and the room everyone gathers in. It holds books and ceramics without closing either space off — division that doesn't cost you the view of who's in the next room.
The table where the color started
Reconsidered
The same pieces, a new conversation
The mustard sofa stayed. The woven wall piece stayed. What moved was the arrangement between them — enough to make a room you'd already seen feel like one you're seeing for the first time.
Stillness
One new thing, and it's for slowing down
A deep red hammock, strung low between the greenery on the balcony — the single addition to a house that otherwise just needed editing. It doesn't ask to be noticed. It asks you to stop moving for an hour.
The reason the whole house faces this way
Luxury was never the price of the things. It was the thought behind them.
What this project taught us
- 01Not every project needs reinvention — some need editing.
- 02One well-made new piece can do more than a room full of replacements.
- 03A view is furniture too. Build toward it.