Words Paul Tierney Photography Mark Mahaney

Published in No 16

Casa Kohn is a house lost in time behind walls that divide it from the outside world. In this most personal of spaces, designed by Czech architect Karl Kohn and completed in 1949, it is clear things were conceived to be unique. The client was his family. Everything had to be perfect.

A Jewish immigrant from Prague, escaping Nazi hostility, Kohn had imagined the plot in Ecuador as the ideal place to lay down roots. It was also an abode dedicated to his wife, the late Dr. Vera Schiller — an actress, psychologist and pioneer of Zen Buddhism, whose personality can be felt in every layer. There is nothing ordinary about Casa Kohn or the family who once inhabited it. Original and ambitious, both thrived in their new surroundings.

“I simply adore the house,” offers Katya Bernasconi, Kohn’s youngest daughter. “I grew up there until the age of 15, before I went off to boarding school. It has always been a part of my life.” Now 80 years old, residing in the cultured enclave of Coppet on the outskirts of Geneva, Bernasconi is a garrulous treat who delights in revealing the house’s myriad charms. With her hard-to-place accent and effusive delivery, it is easy to become enthralled. “My parents moved to Ecuador, in ’39, from Prague, where my father was a well-known architect from a rather large Jewish family. There were not many countries giving visas to Jews at the time, so it was very difficult to find a place to go. I was born in Ecuador, but it would have been a shock for most of the adults upon arrival. My mother in particular found it difficult at first, but my father was an adaptable man who fell in love with the climate, the abundant nature, and all these new faces, which he took great pleasure in drawing. And then of course he designed the house.”

 The “Bauhouse” as she sometimes refers to it, is widely viewed as a Modernist classic. The building — smooth and round of edge, perfectly captures the light and altitude of its position. For fans of clean lines and spaces bereft of ornamentation there is much to admire about its poetry of form. Kohn’s European sensibility — a love affair with both modernity and nature, was somewhat at odds with Ecuador’s predominant colonial style, but it is this “plainness” — a functionality combined with innate good taste — which makes it sing so brightly.

“A forgotten pearl of mid-century avant-garde architecture,” is how Czech journalist Adam Štěch describes his countryman’s greatest creation. For art historian and conservator Zuzana Güllendi-Cimprichova the impact is just as powerful. “Casa Kohn reveals the fluid boundary between outside and inside”, she says. “It creates a spatial continuum through which nature becomes part of the architecture.” This is certainly characteristic of his work.”

“Oh yes,” agrees Katya. “My father felt harmony was the most important element of a house, especially the relationship with its exterior. But it had to be utilitarian too. He was getting away from the Jugendstil — all that sort of extra decor. His work was far purer. Simple lines. Not too much decoration.”

It’s easy to forget, living in a world of clean lines and bare surfaces — of space — that this hasn’t always been the prevailing trend. Karl Kohn, along with architectural giants like Walter Gropius of the Bauhaus, and the great Albert Loos, saw things differently. Rather than cram elaborate excess onto the palette, it is what they scrape away that speaks loudest, “Totally!” cries Katya. “But at the same time, in comparison to the hard edge of architecture today, the walls of Casa Kohn had a sort of movement to them, with corners that are smoothed off. Gropius was far more linear in his architecture, while my father kept a roundness and a harmony that’s all beautifully put together with consideration for space and order.” Space and order were prevailing thoughts in the Kohn household. Karl and Vera were progressive individuals who understood the nature of environment and habitat — how both were invaluable to a person’s well-being. “That’s why he loved his profession so much because he said it formed who you are. A house should be like your second skin. It’s not just a place you go to sleep, it’s where you live. Of course, for him that was essential. Every room he designed was done with a person in mind.”

On social media, there has been much admiration for what has become known as “the blue room.” Idealized as a dream space, with its dark built-in wood furniture and exquisite colouring, the space is widely celebrated in architectural circles as something intrinsically special. “I think it’s perfect,” says Raúl Vilar, a Spanish fan of Kohn’s work. “The way he made it so comfortable and cozy for his family, but also managed to make the whole house an icon of the country’s incipient modernity.”

“It’s not a very big room, it’s a bedroom,” adds Katya “There was a mirror in there, on the left side as you walk through the door, which had a diagonal, fluorescent lamp. The whole thing could’ve been a painting by Mondrian. The design of that wall — all of it was more like a composition.”

And the Yves Klein blue? “Absolutely, yes. You’re right, it’s Yves Klein blue. Well, it’s almost that, it’s a little bit lighter actually. A little bit different, but a bit similar. Whatever, it’s absolutely beautiful. And that’s the original colour. Of course, it’s been repainted since, but using as close to the colour as my father had it.”

Katya knows the room like the back of her hand. “Look at the details of the furniture. There is something very fine in the finish of those shelves, how he made the edges so rounded. You know, all the furniture was shipped over from Prague before the house was even started. Everything is built around these pieces, which is an unusual method to say the least.”

There is nothing harsh here. Everything is linear and polished. Whether it’s the patina of age or simply good design, all works very sympathetically. “My father had an eye for these things without thinking too much. He had that capacity, and that’s what made him such a great architect.”

“Can you see the holes cut into the cement of the ceiling on the terrace? He made those so that the plants underneath would get light and water. Like everything, there was a reason for it. It was utilitarian. Like most of the things my father did, it was important it shouldn’t just be decor for the sake of decor. It was utilitarian — but done in an artistic way.”

Karl Kohn was the very definition of a design megalomaniac. “He designed the shape of the stairs, and the materials that are used to make them. You can see in the rectangle design on the door, there is a V and a K, which stands for Vera Kohn. He designed the silverware — which got stolen — and all of that had V and K engraved into it. I had sheets from Prague, tablecloths and towels. There were so many things with that monogram embroidered onto them. My father designed everything: furniture, buildings, clothing, cars. He really had the capacity for imagining how things should look.”

That’s not to say the house doesn’t benefit from outside influence. The huge bust on the terrace is by Oswaldo Guayasamín, an ex-student of Karl Kohn, and one of Ecuador’s greatest artists. “Oswaldo thought of himself equally as important as Picasso. He was a giant. That sculpture was made by him in 1942, which is the year I was born. It’s a unique piece, and so very special.”

We talk about Modernism, how it was about emphasizing the importance of individual experience. This was an art movement interested in creating a space for personal vision, rather than prescribed ideas of what is fashionable. “Absolutely. Both my parents were incredibly individualistic. They did not go with what anybody else considered to be the right thing. They were very innovative in their approach to almost everything.”

Even now, that influence had not waned. “I had a very close relationship with my father,” she says, with a break in her voice. No less strong was the bond with her mother, Vera Kohn — a woman for whom limitations simply did not exist. A successful acting career did little to quench intellectual desire. Nor the evenings spent entertaining dignitaries, artists and the architecturally curious. In 1956 she travelled to Germany to study Zen Buddhism, retuning to South America with a zealous quest to pass on its meaning.

“My mother started looking for her way — a spiritual way. She spent three years training in the Black Forest in Germany and returned as a super important figure in Humanistic Psychology. She wanted to help people find their identity, to find what she called the “sacred center.” She always said there was a nucleus in every body which is sacred. It’s what a lot of the great spiritual teachers talk about — that if you connect to that place you are connected to everything else.”

Since the death of her mother, in 2012, Katya tells me she is pretty much in charge of Casa Kohn and manages to visit at least once a year. “We had a lovely organic farm there,” she says wistfully. “But, unfortunately, we just sold it to a developer. I couldn’t manage it anymore. I couldn’t go on.”

“The big problem for me now is the future of the house. It’s a big challenge, and I would love to get some help with that. It can’t be knocked down, but at the same time, what are we going to do with it? I don’t want to start a museum. I am just not in the situation where I can dedicate the rest of my life to looking after it. My sister passed away, and her children live in Mexico. They are very keen on selling the house to anybody who will buy it, at any price, because they have very little relationship to it. My nephew is keen on the money, really. That’s what he’s interested in. Oh, I don’t know. They live in a different world.”

“I was thinking today that I am filled with a very great sense of gratitude. There was a lot of life in that house. Whatever happens, I am just glad it exists.”

Paul Tierney is an arts, culture and travel journalist, writing for W Magazine, The Guardian, El Pais and The i. @paultierneysees & paultierneywrites.com

Mark Mahaney is a contributor to The New Yorker, WSJ magazine, and New York Times Magazine, among others. Claxtonprojects.com @mahaney_mark.