The kitchen of Ted and Patte Mulcahey's home flows naturally into the "big room" through a gentle arch over a Gaggeneau hood and Viking cooktop.

Dark teak tables snuggle against butter-cream walls. A lacquered Asian nightstand settles near a brushed-chrome doorknob. A heavy, dog-nibbled armoire sits opposite a light, shiny Grohe faucet.

And then there are the Mulcaheys themselves. They not only work together as Bristal Design Group in the studio of their Langley home, but on the home as well.

They started off as many of their clients do - with land (in the Mulcaheys' case, 1½ waterfront acres on South Whidbey Island's Deer Lagoon) and with a vision. But not much more.

"When we moved from Medina, the buyers wanted our furniture," Ted says. "And our dishes. And our lamps. And our art. We kept our art, though, along with a couple of accessories, antiques and our books."

All of which proved vital to their vision of sophisticated informality - practical touches, intimate lighting, personal scale. That has translated into a 3,800-square-foot shingle-style home broken into three blocks: the garage, the studio and the living space, which is dominated by a "big room" that capitalizes on the water view, flows to the kitchen under a gentle arch and ties everything together.

Above: An intricate painting of red peppers by Al Jackson rests on a table in the Mulcaheys' dining area. Right: The Mulcaheys' 3,800-square-foot home sits on 1.5 acres overlooking Deer Lagoon on South Whidbey Island. A path leads down to the water.

"We see the big room as an extension of the kitchen and living areas," Patte says, "where cooking and entertaining mix in a simple space. But we don't want to give up comfort."

Her husband finishes the thought: "We're not edgy. We want to pile pizza on our coffee table."

That sense of practicality surfaces again in the studio, where the family dogs, big Burton and little Benny, lounge on just-their-size dog beds. The floor is covered with muted Heuga carpet tiles - beige, clay and charcoal gray squares of nylon and harvested animal hair. It's "brutally durable," Ted says, so much so that it also covers the exercise room, a well-traveled space between the kitchen and laundry room.

Granite slab countertops shine beneath open cabinets in the Mulcahey kitchen.

The palette throughout the home is similarly neutral. The hardwood floor of the symmetrical big room is 4-inch planks of white oak, stained not with the typical reddish tint but with a natural, more mellow finish. The 10½ -foot-high coffered ceiling is beamed not with big brown timbers but boxed beams painted the same lightness as the walls. The room's color instead radiates from wall shelves and niches, where books and art are illuminated by delicate picture lights.

"Books are very important," Ted says. "If they have good lines and the color's good, books on walls decorate a room."

Besides plotting new ways to use basics, the Mulcaheys have a knack for dispelling decorating myths.

Few pieces of art hang in the Mulcahey home. It's not that they don't appreciate art; it's just that they appreciate its placement just as much. Framed art is set atop things - the fireplace mantle, the piano or a chest of drawers.

"They look so formal hanging," Ted says. "And while the rule of thumb is to hang art at eye level, actually you want to relate it to where it is. Stack it on a dresser. Leave just an inch or two between it and a couch."

A delicate picture light illuminates framed art in one of two facing bookcase niches between the front hallway and the big room.

You won't find chandeliers dangling from the ceilings, either.

"We tend to think the more lamps you use, the more you bring the light level to a human scale," Ted says. "The only time we put something overhead is to light something particular."

There's a little lamp above the piano in an alcove of the big room. In the adjoining kitchen, lights under the cabinets and the flat hood of the Viking cooktop brighten work areas. In the upstairs hallway, you hardly notice the Italian brushed-chrome sconces dotting the wall. Which is the point, says Ted. "They're just light."

Openness takes on new meaning in the Mulcaheys' kitchen. Much as books dramatize the big room, dishes, baskets and glassware of varying shape, size and hue add color and texture to the decor of the kitchen. That's because there are no doors on the Mulcaheys' custom cabinets, so everything is in full view. "We just tend not to use them," Ted explains.

Nor do they use the standard square shape for their walk-in closet.

The Mulcaheys opted for a long, skinny closet, accessible through the master bath or the bedroom. Length adds wall space, Ted says, and room for shelves. Five small windows, all in a row and uncovered on purpose, maximize light.

Ted Mulcahey says it was a chore to keep the big room symmetrical and a challenge to balance the fireplace, television and view, but with the help of architect Doug Cole and general contractor Mick Olsen, they pulled it off.

When throwing out rules and starting from scratch, it helps to share a design philosophy. About 5½ years ago, the Mulcaheys realized they did, and they decided to work together. Two years later, they married.

"We think a lot alike," Ted says.

"And we have a lot of fun," adds Patte.

Their design group has worked on residential and hotel projects, including the Mayflower Park, Chateau Ste. Michelle, Pacific Plaza and the Spa at Salish Lodge.

Ted has worked for a carpet company, owned a furniture company and a cabinet shop and builds furniture; Patte has more than 25 years' experience in architectural work and interior design.

Together, they've worked out a goal - to make people feel at home - and a work style that accentuates their individual expertise.

Ted, for example, says he defers to Patte for decisions on colors and materials; Patte says Ted has a good head for figures, budgets and the importance of physical space.

And usually they see eye-to-eye on design.

"We don't ever seem to have a problem deciding," Ted says. "We may be anal about a few things, but if something's off, you feel it.

"When it's right, it all comes together."

Sandy Dunham is a freelance writer living in Bonney Lake. Benjamin Benschneider is a staff photographer for Pacific Northwest magazine.