For nomadic software executive Serge Kruppa, home was typically wherever he could hook up to high-speed Internet and a talented team of developers. Since graduating college in Geneva in 1992, the Swiss-born Brit has lived all over the world, doing stints in San Francisco, Budapest, and Mexico City, among other places. But each failed to seduce him enough to put down roots.

Colombia, on the other hand, has intrigued him from the first time he visited the country with his mother, in 1999. He fell in love with the spectacular mountain vistas—reminiscent of the Alps of his childhood—and in 2008, he persuaded an executive at the San Francisco–based tech company where he was working to let him start an office in Medellín.

Soon after arriving, he met his future wife, graphic designer Luisa Alzate, a Paisa, as the locals from the Colombian region of Antioquia are known. Their son, Santiago, followed in 2010 and, with his arrival, plans for a family home.

Luisa sits at an inflection point in the plan, which connects four modules—one for each family member plus one for the common areas—in zigzag fashion down a sloping site." layout="bleed" credit="Photo by Mateo Soto" photoUserId=""/>

The perfect site presented itself during a driving lesson. (“I learned to drive when I was forty-four,” Serge confesses.) While practicing in a quiet, hillside community, Serge saw an empty lot with gorgeous views, thanks to its altitude of 8,500 feet. Serge and Luisa looked into it and learned that the neighborhood was free of the architectural prescriptions imposed in other nearby developments.

The corner is the family’s favorite gathering spot—“a contemporary cave for three,” says Serge. Luisa’s module, with its cactus-lined terrace, is visible through the glass wall. " layout="wide" credit="Photo by Mateo Soto" photoUserId=""/>

After a deep dive into different styles of design—including trips to visit Joseph Eichler homes in California and Tadao Ando’s work in Japan—the couple found themselves wanting to create an example of what philosopher Alain de Botton calls an “architecture of happiness”—“lots of natural light, interesting connected volumes, and open visual perspectives,” says Serge—with a low carbon footprint.

“I wanted our house to bring us joy, but also be gentle to the environment.”
—Serge Kruppa, resident

For Luisa, the architectural explorations stirred up an even more personal journey of discovery. “When we were visiting the various places,” she says, “my artistic side came out.” She switched from studying business administration to graphic design and embraced a passion for pottery.

After interviewing more than a dozen architects, Luisa and Serge chose Câpâ, a small studio run by Colombian couple Catalina Patiño and Juan Pablo Ramos.

“They had a way of thinking that we knew would mesh with ours,” Serge says. “They understood how we lived as individuals,” agrees Luisa, who at the time was burning the midnight oil studying, requiring her own space to avoid interrupting Serge’s sleep.

From these very different nocturnal patterns emerged the house’s modular approach, following a solution that Patiño and Ramos had used for the modest home they designed for their own family, in the same undulating hills on the outskirts of Medellín, which groups together connected but independent volumes. The couple wanted to adopt a similar approach, only on a larger scale.

The result is a string of four 26-foot-tall, asymmetrically gabled modules that cascade down the sloped site. Made of structural insulated panels (SIPs), the modules are clad in black steel on the outside and Siberian larch on the inside. To regulate the home’s exposure to the tropical sun through glass walls and vertical ribbon windows, each module is rotated slightly relative to the next, creating a kinked plan that zigzags down the hill.

“The home unfolds to look at itself,” says Câpâ architect Juan Pablo Ramos." layout="" credit="Photo by Mateo Soto" photoUserId=""/>

Greenhouse-like glass tunnels, a metal grate catwalk, and a series of mezzanines connects the units while maintaining the soaring openness of the interiors.

Serge, Luisa, and Santiago each have a module with a bedroom, bathroom, and living space designed to accommodate individual pastimes and occupations: Serge has an office, Luisa a space to study, and Santiago a play area with a drum kit and small stage.

Another module houses the double-height kitchen, dining area, and entrance hall. Serge’s unit is at the top, or back, of the house, with an uninterrupted sight line from his mezzanine bedroom to Luisa’s space in the next module. Santiago’s room is at the bottom, past the kitchen and above the basement garage.

“Luisa loves the openness of her perspective,” says Serge, “but I need silence and concentration for my work. Here, my son could be destroying his drum kit and I wouldn’t notice.”

“It is very special the way we were able to combine the modules so that the family can have clearly defined areas, but at the same time the house is one body,” says Ramos. “They all have their own space, but they are intricately connected.”

In almost prophetic fashion, the family moved into the house in February 2020, a month before strict social distancing was introduced to flatten Colombia’s Covid curve. Lockdown life only reinforced how blessed they felt with their new home.

“Being there during the pandemic, I found myself much more connected with the movement of the sun or the moon throughout the seasons,” says Luisa. “One night when I had insomnia, I saw a shooting star as I stared up out of the window in Serge’s module. It was amazing—I was in my house, but it was like being in a tent in the countryside.”

When the family comes together, it’s often around the wood burning stove in the dining area—their favorite nook of the 4,845-square-foot house. Movie nights take place in Santiago’s den, and impromptu picnics and pickup badminton games happen frequently on the front lawn.

A secluded hot tub and glamping dome sit atop a mound of cascading rocks excavated during the laying of the building’s foundations. Landscaped by Cala Estudio de Paisajismo to create what Serge calls a “little island of Alpine peace,” the gardens trap runoff rainwater in rock pools to sustain the lush foliage.

After 15 months in their dream home, the family moved to London in July 2021 for Serge’s work. Life there is not the same. Homesick in the best sense of the word, the family can’t wait to return to Colombia to get reacquainted with their piece of “residential art,” a house that, as Serge says, “makes us smile with gratitude every time we witness its beauty.”

Text by Rainbow Nelson

Project Credits:

Architecture: Câpâ

Construction: Edificar Mas Construcción

Structural Engineering: Péndulo Ingeniería

Landscape Design: Capiro Vivero

Lighting Design: Milk Luminance

Photography: Mateo Soto / @mateosotoph

—

Head back to the May/June 2022 issue homepage

Also Appears In

Catwalks and Glass Tunnels Tie Together a Verdant Colombian Home