The Lincoln Park cascade.
A multi-story sweeping curve through an open well — fumed dark oak treads, thin black pickets, a geometric stair runner descending past every flight.
Walk into the foyer and look up. The stair doesn't climb so much as fall — flight after flight curving down through an open well, gray-on-gray runner cascading past you, every thread of detail aligned across multiple stories. From above, it's a single drawn line. From below, it's a vertical light shaft with a stair wrapped around it.
The vocabulary is restrained. Fumed dark oak treads — deep, almost black-brown — closed-riser construction, painted dark to vanish into shadow. The pickets are slim matte-black steel, so thin they almost disappear into the dark wall behind them. The handrail is a single continuous piece of oak running over every curve.
The runner is the moment. A geometric gray-on-gray pattern threads the full length of the stair — bottom to top, never breaking, edges bound and finished by hand. The pattern is what carries the eye up the well, the way a melody carries a song.
Multi-story curves are the hardest geometry in stair work. The curve has to be true across every flight; the handrail has to be one continuous piece without visible joinery; the balcony rails at each landing have to match the run rail exactly. We laid out the entire stair full-size on the shop floor before the first tread was cut — because there is nowhere on a stair like this for an imperfection to hide.
The stair doesn't climb so much as fall — flight after flight curving down through an open well.
The full curve from the upper landing — runner cascading down, handrail tracing every flight.
Side reading of the curve — dark oak treads, thin black pickets, the rail tracing every step.
Mid-flight context — the open well doing the work of a light shaft.
The runner up close — geometric gray-on-gray, bound and finished by hand.
Looking up from a lower landing — three stories resolve into one curved line.
The bottom of the run where the curve meets the entry hall.
Tell us about the stair your house deserves.
The Lincoln Park cascade.
A multi-story sweeping curve through an open well — fumed dark oak treads, thin black pickets, a geometric stair runner descending past every flight.
Walk into the foyer and look up. The stair doesn't climb so much as fall — flight after flight curving down through an open well, gray-on-gray runner cascading past you, every thread of detail aligned across multiple stories. From above, it's a single drawn line. From below, it's a vertical light shaft with a stair wrapped around it.
The vocabulary is restrained. Fumed dark oak treads — deep, almost black-brown — closed-riser construction, painted dark to vanish into shadow. The pickets are slim matte-black steel, so thin they almost disappear into the dark wall behind them. The handrail is a single continuous piece of oak running over every curve.
The runner is the moment. A geometric gray-on-gray pattern threads the full length of the stair — bottom to top, never breaking, edges bound and finished by hand. The pattern is what carries the eye up the well, the way a melody carries a song.
Multi-story curves are the hardest geometry in stair work. The curve has to be true across every flight; the handrail has to be one continuous piece without visible joinery; the balcony rails at each landing have to match the run rail exactly. We laid out the entire stair full-size on the shop floor before the first tread was cut — because there is nowhere on a stair like this for an imperfection to hide.
The stair doesn't climb so much as fall — flight after flight curving down through an open well.
The full curve from the upper landing — runner cascading down, handrail tracing every flight.
Side reading of the curve — dark oak treads, thin black pickets, the rail tracing every step.
Mid-flight context — the open well doing the work of a light shaft.
The runner up close — geometric gray-on-gray, bound and finished by hand.
Looking up from a lower landing — three stories resolve into one curved line.
The bottom of the run where the curve meets the entry hall.