Inside a West Vancouver Tree House With History

When Vancouver native Bob Estey first visited 1665 Ottawa Avenue, he knew it as the Negrin house. Its owner was Reno Negrin, a local architect who designed the Calgary Inn, and a teenaged Estey would often stop by the tree-covered, modernist property on the way back from skiing in Whistler with Negrin’s sons, his high school friends. In 1976, when Negrin hosted the boys’ high school graduation party, Estey met a girl named Alex in the kitchen. As it turns out, that memory was just the first of many the couple would make on that lot. 

After graduation, Bob went on to become an architect himself and, within nine years of their meet cute, he and Alex were married. In 2011, when Negrin considered putting his home up for sale, Estey was his first call. “I told him I would love to buy it,” Estey recalls. “It was a family house.” By then, the Esteys had two boys of their own to raise. It also helped that Bob already had an appreciation for the home’s history, thanks to Negrin’s frequent guided tours. 

The two-level property was built in 1956 by star Canadian architect Ron Thom, a disciple of Frank Lloyd Wright whose most famous works include the University of Toronto’s Massey Hall (a modernist take on the university’s neo-gothic vibe) and Trent University’s riverside campus (a classic collection of clean lines and brute concrete). Before Thom became known Canada-wide, however, he built several notable homes around Vancouver, including Estey’s. Thom initially designed the property to blend in with the land—his architectural signature—placing the bulk of the structure towards the back. Even more privacy is provided by a shroud of towering, fully grown trees. 

The 3,000-square-foot cruciform home is bedecked almost entirely in wall-to-ceiling cedar shiplap panels, which, like the 80-year-old Japanese maple outside, give the home an overall Zen sensibility. Its open-concept living room, unchanged from Thom’s original design, is the property’s true centrepiece. Three of the four walls in the rectangular space are ribbon windows, creating an observation deck to the foliage outside. Lighting is provided by a frosted-glass overhang and a humongous hearth that Estey calls his “walk-in fireplace.”

Like any new owners, the Esteys made their own subtle changes, albeit with extra care, given the home’s heritage. “We always asked, ‘What would Ron do?’” Estey says. In the kitchen, they installed quartz countertops and an induction stove and opened up the original, cramped galley setup by knocking down the wall that separated it from the dining room and living area, preserving the seamless cedar trim. The Esteys didn’t want to overdo the decorating, either; their home was already a work of art. The few white walls are left bare or adorned with nothing more than mirrors. Thom didn’t intend the white spaces to pull focus, and Estey was careful to respect his wishes.

Each of the bedrooms feature a similar design, with some variability in window placement. The main-level master is long and austere, with windows at mid-height showcasing the evergreen cedars outside. On the lower level, another bedroom has its windows at-grade; in yet another, they’re flush with the ground. Still, despite the home’s wide-open design, Estey has never feared for his family’s privacy. With all the trees, he can’t even see his neighbours, and vice versa.

The outdoor space is another Thom-Estey mashup. All told, the property has over three dozen trees—cedars, maples, firs, sequoias that slightly obscure the home’s view of the Pacific and bamboo, which provides extra coverage around the windows. Thom’s contribution was a verdant draping of plants like green ivy, periwinkle and ferns in the front yard, which slopes one-and-a-half storeys down to the road. But the Esteys have also made their tastes known: their sons, Byron and Thomas, installed a pond near the patio. It helps block out the nearby highway.

This summer, after 13 years of ownership, the Esteys decided to downsize; they found themselves with a lot of glorious room, but not enough kids to fill it. In August, they offloaded the iconic piece of architecture for just over $3 million, and purchased another wooded paradise on Saturna Island, which floats in the Strait of Georgia. Even after the sale, Estey doesn’t like to think of the Ron Thom home’s next occupants as its owners. “Let’s call them the ‘new custodians,’” he says. “You could go on and on with renovations, but hopefully they keep the spirit of it.”