The outlook from the top of the stairs shows the entertainment area, far left, and living room / sitting area. Rick Sundberg's attention to detail can be seen in the house's symmetry, where the duality of angles and ovals strikes a subtle balance.

Under his own, smaller roof, Sundberg is a tireless remodeler. While he finds it natural to turn evolving ideas to personal use, the greater incentive is his conviction that dwelling spaces should be altered to serve a changing life. He knows: He and his wife, Sharon, have four children, three of whom are now grown and out of the house. "Rather than us accommodating a house, the house accommodates us," he says.

Sundberg built his 1,205-square-foot family house on a hillside lot in Leschi in 1976. Starting in the spring, he'd leave his downtown office to work evenings on the house; before the rainy season came, he had the place weather-tight. Except for framing, he handled most of the construction himself, including wiring, plumbing, cabinets and finish details. (He was introduced to these skills as a boy of 10 while helping his father and grandfather in their local contracting business.)

Today, passers-by see a two-story, wood-frame structure very similar to the original, modern in its angularity. Wood siding is stained a quiet taupe. A recent pop-out addition on the south end, out of view, has an accordion-fold of galvanized metal and a roof-line flex where new section meets old.

The house is set back several yards from the street. A curving cement-block wall and a line of shrubs help buffer neighborhood noise. Adding to the calm are a reflecting pool and three wide steps with a gentle rise, key elements in a carefully proportioned forecourt just outside the entryway.

This was essentially a three-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bath home, without basement, that was expanded and modified to four bedrooms, and has now reverted to three as children have moved on. Over the years the structure has grown to a still-modest 1,700 square feet.

Stairs up from the foyer lead to the main living area, including the kitchen. The master suite, straight ahead, is out of sight when a dividing door is closed.

No matter the season, much of the interior feels expansive. This is thanks partly to windows on the second floor that make up much of the east wall. But once away from those windows, you and your senses are guided by intelligent design: turns, openings, angles that engage the eye.

Sundberg has recently experimented with catching and funneling morning and afternoon light in deft ways by employing what he calls "light leaks": illumination primarily from baffle-disguised, ground-floor windows. His already keen attention to light was sharpened during a visit to New Mexico a few years ago when, as a birthday gift, Sharon arranged for him to view artist Walter De Maria's large-scale installation, called the Lightning Field, in the high desert outside Quemado. Its 400 polished stainless-steel poles are set on uneven terrain to reflect waves of dawn and evening light — or the flash of lightning bolts. Sundberg credits his contemplative experience there as useful in his design work, if not exactly translatable.

Take, for example, the wash of east and west light in the Sundbergs' new master-bedroom suite. Just behind and above the bed's headboard and again on the wall opposite, wallboard baffles mask both small lights and wide, shallow windows. The illumination is obvious, the source discreet. Discretion comes into play in other ways at the ground-floor entry, which opens onto a small foyer with rustic bench and stone floor tiles. A shallow, horizontal band of glass at door-top height provides interior light while ensuring privacy. Natural light also filters in from frosted glazing on both sides of the entryway — and from who knows where. It takes a minute to recognize the subtle doorways to two bedrooms immediately off the entry, as well as the door to a combination laundry room/powder room a few paces down the hall. The angles of the hallway wall, interior color scheme and molding contribute to the secret-panel effect.

A curving stairway (the better to direct air flow) leads up to the living area, which is bright even in rainy-day light. This floor is essentially one large room, including kitchen on the south end, with dining, entertainment and living areas either merging or distinct, depending on how furniture is arranged. The living room is defined by a freestanding fireplace on one side and built-in bookshelves under a circular skylight on the other.

	When Sundberg planned this house in the 1970s, he envisioned one large room, as open and bright as possible. His vision served him well. The family dining table is left of the post, the kitchen is at the far end and the door out leads to the deck from Sharon Sundberg's office. The stair landing is on the right.

The Sundbergs remodeled this space about a year and a half ago, tweaking curves into the staircase; updating track lighting, paint colors and appliances; and adding stone-tile flooring, cabinetry and a little square footage for an office off the kitchen. The kitchen has a new, warm-toned bamboo floor. Beechwood cupboards are designed so everything inside rolls out on shelves to make tasks easy on the back.

A cooktop island lets the chef face the dining and conversation area. Moving the kitchen sink to the opposite wall, below a window, brought good light to that area as well as a glimpse of Lake Washington. As new houses have mushroomed around them, the Sundbergs have become more interested in the spaces revealed between the houses.

"I'm not view-oriented," Sundberg says. "If I had my druthers I'd go for the long view — the archetypal view — which may be a sight corridor that pulls the eye out over a line of trees, a body of water, a range of mountains." He thinks that always going for a wider view, or a view from every window, eliminates surprise and subtlety, and subverts sustained interest.

Sundberg set his drawing board under the skylight during the latest remodel eight months ago and noodled with ideas as carpenters tore up the downstairs to expand the master bedroom into a suite. While they were at it, they converted a son's former bedroom into a walk-in closet and refurbished a bathroom.

Sundberg wasn't anxious to draw in the final details; he enjoyed solving problems on the fly. He was so engaged that the main difficulty, at first, was making certain that both his and his wife's views were represented.

"I thought, finally, I'll simply treat my wife like a client and we'd proceed that way," Sundberg says. "We are a team-based office, where there is vigorous peer review for all projects. No matter who leads, it's the best idea that wins. You check your ego at the door.

"Sharon brought a lot of great suggestions to the table; together we figured out how to make it work."

This simple pop-out addition, with master suite below and small office above, required complicated foundation work, including deep piers. Expenses were several times the cost of the original house.

On these later projects, the design/build process was more fluid, says Sundberg. "As you get older, you get a little more lyrical in what you do."

The shapes he prefers now are often curving — sculptural yet driven by real use, such as directing air flow for ventilation. On the whole, he says, architects today use structural contours more intelligently than in the '70s and encourage clients to consider how best to let the fresh air in, to allow the view to reveal itself, to let the site itself contribute to heating or cooling.

Sundberg, who reviewed downtown's changing face as chair of the Seattle Design Commission from 1997 to 2000, is sought as a university lecturer and design juror nationally and internationally. He spoke recently on architecture for the disabled — a topic he knows well due to a son's disability. "Their needs are not unique to them," he said. "They make sense to a lot of people. Especially if you design so the house is useful for all stages of life."

Everything of substance is mutable. The challenge, Sundberg might add, is to make the change both useful and beautiful.

Sundberg spent a lot of time at a drafting table in this spot just months ago, with a welcome skylight overhead and a commanding view of the main floor. This part of the house, distinguished by a raised floor, is dubbed the entertainment area.
The home office, top left, and the master suite, lower left, appear some distance from the main house from this angle, yet they're steps away through linking hallways. The large windows in the original structure are in the living room. The new kitchen, with up-to-date beech cupboards and a granite-topped cooktop island, has a built-in refrigerator and range, right, to keep things neat. The passageway leads to a small office.