When Miami architect Barry Sugerman designed a waterfront house in Florida, he didn’t expect to be drumming up business in Turkey. Nor did he see himself on the cutting edge of one of the most important economic trends affecting U.S. architects.
But Muhtesem Ekenler was making plans to build his dream house. He came across a photo of Sugerman’s stucco-and-Italian-marble creation in a magazine and fired off a letter to the architect. He wanted a house just like that, but in Adana, Turkey.
“At first, I thought it was a joke,” says Sugerman.
It wasn’t. Last month, the roof was installed on Ekenler’s 24,000-square-foot contemporary residence overlooking a lake. When completed next year, the mansion will boast a master suite with his-and-her bedrooms, a pair of offices, two kitchens, a children’s playroom and a wine cellar.
“The local architects here, even the best ones, don’t understand the space concept,” says Ekenler, 38, president of a clothing textile company whose U.S. clients include Donna Karan International Inc. and Liz Claiborne Inc. “Another problem is that the Turkish architects are inflexible. They believe they should tell you how to live.”
In recent years, residences conceived by American architects have been popping up all over the world, commissioned by well-heeled foreign clients who want an “American” house, with its clean, proportional lines, spacious interiors and state-of-the-art appliances. In many cases, customers clamoring for an American look are willing to pay extra to import U.S.-made building supplies–from wooden floors to bathroom fixtures.
“The attraction is very simple,” says Raj Barr-Kumar, president of the American Institute of Architects: America is hip. Barr-Kumar has seen an increase in foreign residential commissions overseas over the last 20 years. “American culture is the one that everyone wants–from rock-and-roll to jeans and McDonald’s. When people in other countries have acquired success in their houses. American style is key.”
For some U.S. architects, the increasing interest from wealthy foreigners has come at a good time; domestic architectural commissions took a nose-dive during the late 1980s. An American Institute of Architects survey to be released this fall shows member billings from work abroad for foreign clients accounted for 8.6 percent of total 1996 billings. In 1991, the figure was just 2 percent. (The surveys don’t distinguish between residential and commercial projects.)
While lucrative, designing a home from the other side of the globe can be problematic. Building materials can break, directions can be misunderstood and cultural clashes may arise. When San Diego architect Donald Edson was building a house in Jidda, Saudi Arabia, in 1992, he sent his client a shower-fixtures brochure that featured a photo of a woman in a nightgown. Government censors confiscated the brochures. Since then, he says, “We’ve become more careful about what we mail.”
Architects say video-conferencing, electronic mail, faxes and overnight delivery have made it easier to handle far-flung assignments. “We actually find it quite efficient,” says Los Angeles architect Michael C. F. Chan, who has built private residences in Hong Kong and China. “We work on the designs during the day while the client is sleeping, and then they’ll get the designs the next morning in their office.”
When New York architect Suellen DeFrancis was designing Koichi and Keiko Okada’s home in Iwaki, Japan, they had a standing weekly phone appointment at 8 p.m. on Sunday for DeFrancis and 9 a.m. on Monday for Okada. DeFrancis made six trips, each lasting about three weeks, during the 10-month construction project. A local coordinating architect, Genta Torisu, visited the site every two weeks.
On one visit to the construction site, DeFrancis couldn’t understand why French doors for the living and dining rooms–which she had measured and ordered herself–wouldn’t fit. The problem? In Japanese homes, interior doors open out; in the U.S., they open into a room. “The workers were putting them in the Japanese way, but I had the doors made the American way,” she says. The doors were then installed U.S.-style.
Despite such snafus, the Okadas moved into their $3 million, 5,000-square-foot house last Christmas. The home has nine-foot ceilings, about a foot-and-a-half higher than typical ceilings in Japanese homes. It combines U.S. and Japanese features: In the living room, the wooden wall paneling is American black cherry, and the violet-and-cream-colored, silk-upholstered sofa and chairs are imported from the U.S. The kitchen boasts a Sub-Zero refrigerator, a double Viking oven and a six-burner Russell range. But there is also a tatami room for tea ceremonies and a large genkan, or entry foyer, with shoe closets.
“My friends say my house is like a historical monument,” says Okada, 53, who owns a wholesale electrical-supply company. “They have never seen such a house before.”
Ekenler’s 24,000-square-foot residence in Turkey may also serve as a local monument. “It kind of got out of hand,” concedes Ekenler, who originally wanted a house of about 15,000 square feet. “My wife and I couldn’t agree on some things, so I decided she could have her way and I could have mine, which is why the house is so big.”
He expects to spend about $2.5 million to build the house, using local contractors and engineers. Ekenler estimates that if he hadn’t hired an American architect, and hadn’t imported American building materials–including his air-conditioning system, electrical panels, swimming pool equipment and furniture–the house would have cost about $1 million.
Hassan Aftab, who runs a family textile business in Lahore, Pakistan, is unapologetic about his preference to buy American. In May, he hired New York brother-and-sister architecture team of Wid and Margaret Chapman for a major renovation on his family’s residence. He plans to import wallpaper, bathroom fixtures and Formica countertops from the U.S.
“The proper materials aren’t available where I live, and I had not been able to find an architect in my country that was suited for the work I wanted,” says Aftab, 28, who found the Chapmans through Designer Previews, a New York architect-referral service. “I couldn’t hire an Italian, German or French architect because I don’t speak their languages, and I wouldn’t hire a British one because they tend to design small, cramped spaces.”
