A Home Carved by Contour

Perched on the edge of a ridge in Dago, this mountain villa traces the slope instead of resisting it. The site opens in three directions: the forest above, the city below, and a band of distant mountain peaks beyond. The house holds all three in frame.

Rather than level the land, the architecture steps with it. Planes shift downward across the hill, forming a long, low silhouette that echoes the horizon.

A Place for Gathering and Retreat

The client asked for contrast — a departure from his seaside home. Cooler air, stillness, trees. A place to entertain, but also to pause. The villa responds by separating public and private. Guest quarters are tucked into their own level, with independent access. The main villa is set apart, connected only by a suspended bridge. The two meet at the center — in a shared living space that opens fully to the landscape.

Here, the living room flows outward to a wide terrace and infinity pool. Beyond it: sky, mountain, and light.

Movement Through the Landscape

Arrival begins below. A spiral stair curves around water and leads upward, revealing the view slowly. Inside, circulation follows the land — always moving across, or above, or through.

Two bridges anchor the spatial experience. One crosses water, lit from above and below. The other, a 20-meter span, floats between volumes. These are not flourishes. They are part of the site’s logic — instruments for moving across air, over water, between worlds.

Light, Material, Weathering

The palette is restrained: travertine, local stone, wood, glass, steel. These materials are not meant to shine, but to settle. They collect weather. They carry time. Wood softens in the sun. Stone anchors the building into the hill.

Openings are carved to bring light deep into the plan. Skylights, floor voids, and clerestory slots allow the house to breathe. Some shafts are designed for trees. Others for light to fall through levels.

Even at night, the villa reveals itself carefully. A hidden garage under the pool holds nine cars. From the drop-off, their silhouettes glow faintly, reflected back toward the city.

Framing the Essential

Every room opens toward the mountain. Every space is connected, yet held apart. Privacy comes not from walls, but from distance, shadow, and quiet thresholds. There are no views for show — only those earned by movement, by compression, by turning a corner.

“This villa does not try to compete with the landscape. It listens. It follows the hill, crosses the air, and opens just enough — a quiet frame for a powerful place.”