During the years the couple lived on Sylvan Terrace,
they’d done a number of design-build projects, so they
came to their new home with a strong skill set. Still,
the house needed substantial work: new plumbing,
electrical and air conditioning. The staircase also had
to be rebuilt — a project that Leitão took on, topping
the banister post with a bust from Angola, where he
grew up.
He also redid the entire house’s floors, after they
realized the parquet had been stripped so thin over
the years it couldn’t hold up to another refinishing.
Leitão took out every individual bit of parquet in the
house, nail by nail, and shopped around to get a really
nice price on the white oak. Then he laid the floors
and finished them using a process that replicates the
appearance of shou sugi ban, a Japanese technique
that preserves wood by charring it. Reluctant to take a
torch to the floors, he found a less high-risk method of
scorching the wood chemically by soaking it with vinegar
infused with steel wool.
This saved what Brennen estimates to be tens of
thousands of dollars. It also embodies their personal
design philosophy: finding creative, savvy solutions to
what can be expensive challenges. Another was using
wooden hooks from CB2 for door handles, an idea
Brennen came up with after not finding any traditional
handles she liked.
She does not, however, endorse bargain hunting if it
means buying a lesser substitute you’ll be unhappy
with. “When you’re in design, wait for whatever you
really, really want,” she warns. “Except if you have kids.
Because they destroy everything.”
The couple preserved as many of the house’s original
details as they could, including the ornate plaster ceilings
in the living and dining rooms. They even went so
far as to remove the molding that framed the kitchen
windows and reattach it as a trim around the glass door.
But some changes felt necessary. Among them, adding
a half bathroom on the parlor floor and more than
doubling the width of the narrow skylight at the top of
the stairs to bring more light into the house. They also
raised the ceilings on the top floor and added another
bathroom to the level they share with the girls, Luena,
12, and Zeza, 9.
For now, at least, the girls prefer to share a room, Brennen
says (Luena has dibs on the guest room upstairs
should she ever want to claim it). But they don’t have to
share a sink, since their bathroom is outfitted with two,
as is the master bath.
The master bathroom’s walls are covered in square
white dimensional tile with a subtle raised diagonal
motif — a pleasing contrast to the bedroom’s matte
black walls. While the choice is a bold one, Brennen
decided it was worth trying. She’d had success previously
painting a wall in their Harlem house with
chalkboard paint.
“My husband thought it would look awful, but it came
out great,” says Brennen, adding that he eventually
admitted the choice was inspired, though he was similarly
dubious of her decision to paint their bedroom
black. (Apparently, he’s come around to that, too.)
By now, they’ve learned to trust one another’s aesthetic
impulses. And, as both their livelihoods are
creative, they respect each other’s need to live in a
space that delights and inspires them. For Leitão, that
means being surrounded by photographs of his dance
company and the enormous masks, costumes and
sculptures he makes. His top-floor office is as exuberant
as the rest of the house is restrained.
“One of the reasons we picked up here for his office was
that I won’t harass him about all the stuff,” Brennen
says, opening a closet to reveal papers and art materials.
“Downstairs is my favorite space and this is his
favorite space.”
Their daughters, whom she hopes will someday inherit
the house, are comfortable everywhere.
“The house belonged to my aunt and my cousin before
her and my cousin before her,” Brennen says. “It will be
my children’s house and hopefully their children’s.”
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