We are a couple of architects. In a large, bustling city like Tehran, our work is designing and supervising construction projects — a fascinating but full-time and demanding occupation. We always longed to build a space of our own, where we could spend our weekends away from professional and mental preoccupations, or rest for a while after completing each project. A place for restoring our thoughts, our energies, and a haven for being in love and living together. A place with coordinates different from our studio or even our apartment. Yet like ourselves and our architecture — simple and logical. A familiar space, an intimate space, a comfortable space, a white space.
"In Golestaneh," a poem by our beloved contemporary poet, beautifully describes the feeling of this space in our minds, and it became the name of our house:
In Golestaneh, what a scent of grass there was!
In this village, I was searching for something:
Perhaps for a sleep, a light, a pebble, a smile.
Le Corbusier's simple solution — the standardized two-story house, built from two concrete slabs held up by six slender columns and a simple staircase, the Domino House, the ever-present spirit of modern architecture — was transformed into the core idea of Golestaneh.
The fusion of Sohrab's "In Golestaneh" — our vision of space — and Le Corbusier's "Domino" — a model of simple, swift, affordable, and potentially minimal housing — became the sanctuary of our days of serenity. A house that is the culmination of our own various designs and those of all our architect friends, resting on Le Corbusier's six columns.