Established by John Knox, The Kirk was built in 1867 in the Melbourne suburb of Elsternwick. The building features brick polychrome which was at the height of its popularity during its construction. Alternating cream and umber brick mark the gear-tooth points and wrap the building in tiny quoins. The church became an icon for the community with its style being mimicked in a nearby substation as well as homes.

The clients had seen a Williams and Boag church conversion up-country and liked it. The raking floor had been retained there and, as here, a house fabric inlaid within an earlier church: not to replace, but to co-exist with that church and its legacy as a building that had once been the core of a community and its collective identity. It is a lot for a house to bear and here in the John Knox Elsternwick conversion the co-existence is finely balanced. Williams and Boag were determined that new fabric should be clearly distinguished from the old, perhaps feeling that producing the detail and texture of an older form by confusing the reading of an original casts the altered building into limbo homogeneity. The proposition is simple: new and old, rather than either/or. Accept the plurality and from its overlaps and clashes comes a new and particular unity in rhythms and episodes.

Inside, though the organ is gone, the kinetic heart of this church remains: in the floor raked to assist the congregation to gather, see and hear the delivery of the sermon; the planked dadoes stiff and stern, the satin glow of the timber ceiling and its spectacular trusses; the sudden and rich bounties of Ferguson and Urieâ€s stained glass; the near-black timber of the original floor and Elders†platform; and the massive core – a pulpit for announcing The Word, shifted about three metres from its original place.

How is this organised here? One senses the breath of Charles Moore, via Peter Williams†old colleague Kevin Borland, flowing through this design. The immediate encounter with this is through the expansion of perceived space with mirrors, an idea of John Soaneâ€s reworked by Moore, especially in his later designs. The bedrooms read as houses within a larger roofed volume, coupled to the stage-like sense of the platforms and enclosures inside. Cutting across the windows and corbels of the original church, they are all reminders that one is inside a very different building. Peter Williams, who worked on Borlandâ€s Paton house in 1970, is among those architects to explore Mooreâ€s buildings-within- buildings in Australian settings as an address of circumstance and a generator of the episodic.

The interior is also strongly theatrical in the sense of a stage setting for the family and its individual drama of movement and living. Robin Boyd, also interested by Moore, matched these themes in his Featherston house in Ivanhoe (1967), where a major platform-dominated volume is held in co-existence with added bedroom, bathroom and kitchen areas blistered outside into pods – or as Moore called them, ‘saddlebagsâ€. Here, these pods are the family room and kitchen area, and the bathrooms are drawn back into miniature house forms that envelop the bedrooms so the original church needed only one new opening to accommodate the house inside it.

The large garage at the front, with three bays and bench and work areas, is wisely set out as a separate building. With different texture and a hipped-roof variant, it has a quite different fabric from the church. A carport, linked to family rooms, is similarly clear of the original church. External additions are concentrated on the north.

The spread of the kitchen and family area is woven with lines traced out from the church buttresses. These lines cross a shallow moat with its stepped islands and kerbing, then a paved area to the swimming pool, before diving into the water and coming up the other side (this reworks High Victorian polychrome, which traditionally linked differing episodes and immediate context). These trace lines also run back in turn through the new plan inside the church. At ground floor they pick up the line of the laundry island (in a tall fold-away cupboard), the lift and bar storage, the bar, the dining room divider, the stairwell and each of the bedroom partitions.

The house component itself is necessarily complex. As Alex Selenitsch observed of Edmond and Corrigan, the client family in a house design is recognised as a group of differing parties: often competing and sometimes in alignment, a ‘body politic†with the variance and diversity of a community. We fixate on architectural post-modernism as a taste reaction that reinstates columns and styles, but we often forget its initial and long-gathering impetus: a perception of circumstance as of multiples and of parallel truths, where beauty in a buildingâ€s bearing lies most in the engagement of these conditions, rather than in their avoidance in finish, formal beauty and homogeneity.

In 1881, European immigrant Jacob Elsas built one of Georgiaâ€s most successful late 19th century textile mills. Today it remains a proud and significant part of Atlantaâ€s industrial history. The Stacks continues the legacy of its founding visionary, evolving from cotton mill to a community of one-of-a-kind loft homes.

After years of declining operations, Fulton Cotton Mill finally closed its doors in 1978. The property languished for years and demolition loomed until the Cabbagetown community banded together and saved the mill from the wrecking ball. In 1997, Aderhold Properties began the renovation and redevelopment of the historic Fulton Cotton Mill into a community of 505 loft-style homes. It is now known as The Stacks at Fulton Cotton Mill, named for the mill’s still-standing smokestacks.

Passing through the foyer brings you into the kitchen, which has 16-foot ceilings and is one of the main focal points of the unit. It is a galley-style layout with gorgeous travertine countertops and custom built-in maple cabinetry, which provides outstanding storage capability for even the most well equipped chef. Miele cooking appliances provide an exceptional cooking experience, including a 5-burner gas cooktop, built in oven and warming drawer to keep additional dishes table-ready.

Open shelving runs the length of the countertop creating a minimal look while also being extremely functional for day-to-day cooking and entertaining. Oversized drawers reveal a range of storage options for cookware and other essentials, all of which have automatic soft-close hardware. Around the corner, a huge 9†pantry provides additional dry storage and a recycling area.

Around the corner from the kitchen is the Master Suite. The bedroom itself has original brick on all 4 walls 16-foot ceilings. There are two window passages that open onto the main living area, which provides natural light, but not direct sunlight to the sleeping area itself. This effect makes for a wonderful setting to enjoy sleeping in on holidays and weekends without having to draw shades or curtains to achieve the right mood.

Perhaps the most sanctuary-like feature of the space is the bathroom itself. Upon entering, the soft, warm tones along with perfectly controlled lighting invite the visitor to stay and treat themselves to a spa-like experience. Architectural lighting highlights exposed brick features above the soffit and provides a nice juxtaposition between the sleek, modern finishes and the history of the building itself.

The shower enclosure is made up of beautiful travertine tiles and frameless glass, with a deep soaking tub fitted under dual showerheads, including a central rain head that provides incredible coverage for a residential shower. Soaking in a hot bath is a treat in this space, and is even better for 2!

Through the broad sweeping archway out of the kitchen lies the Tower, which is currently configured for living, dining, and office areas. The structure itself is original brick on all 4 sides with dimensions of 25†x 25†with staggering 65 foot ceilings. Words and pictures do not do the space justice, as it is impossible to comprehend until you are standing in the space absorbing the magnitude of the structure.

Before the conversion to lofts in 1999, this room housed 2 massive water tanks that were supported by a series of heavy timber beams. The Towerâ€s brick walls survived the fire of 1999 and the tornado of 2008 and the structure still remains largely as it appeared over 100 years ago.

The Tower faces East but receives natural light throughout the day. On the main level are windows facing North, South, and East, all of which can be opened. At the top level of the Tower (approximately 40 feet above the existing main living area) are massive arched windows on each of the four walls, creating an unparalleled panoramic view of Downtown Atlanta and the surrounding area.

The pool is centrally located in the ruins of the oldest standing exterior structure on the property. Mill building 1, originally built in 1881, was beyond repair at the time of conversion to lofts, but much of the exterior of the structure remained intact, which, along with the original boiler house, provides the backdrop for a unique experience of bathing in a community pool. There is ample furniture for large groups, WiFi access, and a restroom facility onsite, but the perfect placement of the pool itself is certainly one of the propertyâ€s greatest amenities.

The complex have its own common grounds – perhaps the most intriguing amenity of them all. Every area of the 10 acres has its own story, and it is easy to get lost in the various passageways, stairwells, and other unique components that make the Cotton Mill the unique property that it is. Relics of its former role as a bustling business and source of livelihood for the Cabbagetown community can be found throughout the property. The developers took great care to preserve the history of the facility, thus photos, blueprints, and other artifacts are on display throughout the common grounds. Grills and other patio furniture provide additional gathering spaces for the community and invited guests throughout the year, and it is not uncommon for a group of neighbors to host an impromptu cookout in one of the courtyard during the warmer months.

This one is for sale.

Normally, a houseboat should be designed to be as light as possible. But here, weight appears to be not an issue.  There is no scrimping on material weights.

Solid wooden beams form a trellis outdoors. Heavy glass railings screwed down with sturdy steel screws safeguard the houseboat from water rot caused by the occasional splashes.

The fireplace is Travertine marble. The floors are Bamboo/Cork, Concrete, Hardwood.

Maybe a houseboatâ€s pontoon can support all this weight, but the financial weight is another matter.

This $3.8 million dollar houseboat would set you back $18,000 a month, even with 20% down.

(And that does not include all the priceless artwork, like this piece on the bathroom counter)

The view from the roof is serene… if you could relax while coming up with this kind of money!

Even inside you have a view of the yachts sailing in the nearby waterways.

This houseboat is almost 3,000 square feet “of custom designed luxury, with details of rare precision and restraint, and spaces both exhilarating and serene”.

I wonder if it can sell in todayâ€s economy?

Seattle Afloat

via Home Design Find