Small Parisian Artist’s Workshop Turned Bright, Flexible Home, 33sqm/355sqft
When I first stepped into the bare, unfinished shell of my home in the 18th arrondissement of Paris, I didn’t see a cramped 33-square-meter apartment; I saw a history waiting to be reclaimed. As someone passionate about art and craftsmanship, I felt a deep pull toward the building’s past as an artist’s atelier from the early 20th century. At the time, it was a skeleton of electricity, gas, and plumbing, but that emptiness felt like a promise—a space where anything was possible.
My creative process was driven by a desire for multi-functionality without sacrificing the comforts of a larger home. I wanted the architecture to reflect my own rhythm, especially my work with ceramics. We drew inspiration directly from those former workshops, choosing varnished concrete floors to honor the industrial spirit of the original ateliers. Every material was chosen with an aesthetic sensitivity to how light and texture interact: the brushed stainless steel of the lower kitchen cabinets has a soft reflection that bounces light through the room, while the glossy white enamel of the lava stone countertop provides a resilient, beautiful surface for my daily rituals.
I find that small things make a big difference in how a home feels emotionally. To create a sense of transition and drama, we drenched the entrance in a bold red-orange paint and slightly dropped the ceiling. This intentional “squeeze” makes the act of stepping into the main living area feel like a release, making the minimalist space feel expansive and airy. My living room is anchored by a mustard sofa and a large painting by JEAN, whose bold colors informed the palette of the entire home.
My workspace is perhaps the most intimate part of the apartment. High on a pine wood mezzanine, my office feels like its own separate sanctuary. The desk itself is a piece of history, crafted from salvaged oak from a train wagon, extending into shelves where I display my favorite design objects. Below this, my bed is tucked away on a sliding mechanism of rollers and tracks. There is a quiet, emotional satisfaction in the way the bed slides out—a literal manifestation of the flexibility required for contemporary life.
The back wall of the apartment is a study in light and reflection. By using edge mirrors on the floor-to-ceiling closets, the shiny red tiles of the breakfast bar, and stainless steel, the entire space feels luminous and connected to the private garden outside. This connection to greenery, framed by original metal beams that remind me of Montmartre’s history, provides the “moments of quiet” that I craved.
Building this home taught me that a tiny footprint can offer the quality of a much larger residence if you approach it with thoughtfulness. It is not just a place to live, but a reflection of my creative soul, where the industrial past and my artistic future meet in every corner.