In a design industry still gripped by the allure of absence—white walls, pale woods, and the careful choreography of restraint—this small bungalow in Silver Lake offers a gentle but deliberate counterpoint. Here, creativity doesn’t recede into the background. It accumulates, collides, and settles into a deeply personal manifesto and eclectic sanctuary shaped by instinct.
Perched along one of Silver Lake’s storied stair streets, the 1,000-square-foot, 1940 bungalow sits in quiet dialogue with its surroundings—an East Los Angeles neighborhood long synonymous with artistic production and architectural experimentation. Within walking distance of landmarks like the Neutra VDL House and Silvertop, the home occupies a cultural terrain where modernism once proposed a new way of living. But rather than mimic that lineage, New Operations Workshop—led by founder Gabriel Yuri—leans into a different kind of inheritance: one rooted in accumulation, memory, and material contrast.
The renovation, completed over the course of a year, was less about transformation than calibration. The challenge, Yuri explains, was to modernize the home while preserving its modest 1940s charm. The original structure remains largely intact: a single-level, two-bedroom layout anchored by a front porch that stretches the length of the house. But inside, the project unfolds as a layered interior landscape, where objects carry the narrative weight more so than architecture.
At first glance, the space appears to align with the contemporary preference for neutrality. Walls are painted white, floors finished in white oak. But this is not minimalism in the strict sense—it’s a staging ground designed to amplify the presence of things. And things, here, are abundant.
A reupholstered vintage Marenco sofa in burnt orange velvet anchors the living room, its saturated tone pushing firmly against the quietude of the envelope. Chrome surfaces—fixtures, planters, and furniture—thread through the home, catching light and connecting disparate rooms with a reflective continuity. Black leather, plywood, matte black hardware––each material registers as a distinct voice rather than part of a unified palette.
This approach draws heavily from 1970s Italian design, a period when interiors embraced contradiction—softness against steel, gloss against texture, rigor against play. But Yuri’s references don’t settle into nostalgia. Instead, they intermingle with a broader cast: lighting by Eileen Gray and Charlotte Perriand, a Isamu Noguchi lamp, a Poul Kjærholm PK22 lounge chair. These canonical pieces coexist with artworks by friends and emerging voices, dissolving the hierarchy between collectible design and personal artifact.
If the living spaces operate as a kind of curated salon, the kitchen and bathroom take on a more nuanced role where preservation and intervention meet. In the kitchen, all-white cabinetry nods to the home’s original condition, resisting the current appetite for contrast-heavy millwork. Hardware, however, shifts the tone: blackened wood and matte black fixtures introduce a subtle tension.
The bathroom tells a more explicit story of recovery. Following what Yuri describes as an “atrocious” 1990s renovation, the space was stripped back to its most meaningful surviving element: a glass block wall. Rather than replace it, the design builds around it pairing white tile, chrome fixtures, and plywood with an unexpected detail: a latex sink skirt that introduces a note of humor, even irreverence.
That gesture—playful, slightly offbeat—feels emblematic of the project as a whole. Where many interiors strive for cohesion, this one embraces friction. Where minimalism often edits life down to its essentials, this bungalow allows for excess—not in quantity, but in expression.
Still, the home never tips into chaos. Its success lies in a careful balancing act: between relaxation and refinement, between historical sensitivity and contemporary instinct. As Yuri describes it, the goal was to create a space where “the home’s history and surroundings could breathe while still reflecting a love of design.”
In that sense, the project reframes the conversation around what a “creative” interior can be. Not a blank canvas waiting to be filled, nor a fully resolved composition, but something more dynamic—a living archive of influences, relationships, and moments in time.
To see more work by the studio, visit newoperationsworkshop.com.
Photography courtesy of Graham Dunn, Clarke Tolton, and Gabriel Yuri.
