Hotel Sevan

The existing structure set the terms. High ceilings, generous corridors, and a facade with enough presence to anchor the whole project meant the design work was curatorial as much as architectural — what to reveal, what to repair, what to leave exactly as found. Each room was treated individually. Same palette, same logic, different proportions — because the building didn't offer identical spaces and there was no reason to pretend otherwise. Bedheads in aged brass and smoked oak. Stone basins on exposed plinths. Curtains that pool on the floor rather than stopping short. A deliberate heaviness to the soft furnishings that makes you want to stay inside them. The common areas take their cue from the residential rather than the institutional. A bar that reads more like a library. A breakfast room where the tables are spaced far enough apart that the morning feels yours. A small inner courtyard that most guests discover by accident and tend to return to. A hotel should feel inevitable — as if the building had been waiting for exactly this use. This one had.