Welcome back to Behind the Facade, your backstage pass into the personal stories that shape the homes we love.
Today, we’re in Surry Hills with artists Kris Andrew Small and Micke Lindebergh, sitting inside their light-soaked warehouse conversion apartment on the cusp of its next chapter. It’s a bittersweet moment as they’re selling the apartment, but they're also excited to take their maximalist instincts to somewhere new.
They found the property four years ago, after what felt like “ten thousand” inspections across Sydney. So many were dark, damp, or carpeted into submission. This one felt different from the first step: air, light, character, an outlook threaded with green. A mature tree stands just beyond the balcony, allowing cross-ventilation to move from morning to afternoon with ease. “Even though it’s in the middle of the city, it felt somewhat green,” Kris recalls. “Like a blank box we could wrap with our style.”
They didn’t gut it. They edited. The bones, a late-1990s warehouse conversion, concrete and steel, generous volumes, were good. “We kind of wanted it to look like a gallery,” Kris says. “Floor, walls, ceiling: if those were strong, we could compose everything else.” It helped that this is the only apartment on its level with polished concrete floors, a finish that throws light around the rooms and reveals flecks of aggregate like a field of quiet constellations. “We saw a lot of carpet,” Micke laughs. “This was the first thing that grabbed me.”
From that foundation, they layered warmth. Every room features custom timber joinery, wardrobes, shelving, and storage designed by the pair and built with a local craftsperson to fit the apartment exactly. The wood reads as a single language across the home, softening the industrial shell and bringing a Scandinavian calm that nods to Micke’s Swedish roots. “Scandinavian houses always have so much wood,” he says. “It brings light and a bit of calm.”
They treated the existing kitchen the way artists treat a canvas, by working with what’s there and pushing colour where it counts. No demolition. Just a bright blue repaint and a timber splashback in the same species as the new joinery. The effect is joyful and deliberate, playful but precise. “Once we painted the kitchen blue,” Kris smiles, “we were like… what next?” A sunny yellow hallway followed, changing the mood between spaces and setting the tone for the home’s lived-in creativity.
Art is everywhere, on walls, on ledges, leaning in stacks that rotate as new work arrives. Much of it is their own; just as much is from friends they trade with. A large painting Kris made after three months in New York anchors the living room by scale alone, its energy countered by a small oil painting of their first Sydney apartment, which they treasure for the memory it holds. “Often you see apartments with one or two pieces of art,” Kris says. “We had so much we loved, things our friends made, things we made. It made the place feel like home.”
The home answers to daily life as much as it does to colour. The layout balances openness and order; the custom storage tucks chaos behind clean lines. Morning is for coffee on the floor, looking into the leaves; night is for watching the city pulse without the noise. “You feel the energy,” Micke says, “but it’s calm. Rare, this close to the city.”
Outside the door, Surry Hills does what Surry Hills does: AP Bakery and Paramount for rituals, Golden Age for films, and the gravitational pull of Chinatown, Thaitown and Koreatown for the food they love. New galleries keep arriving within a few blocks. Old neighbours wave. From the balcony, passers-by have been known to call up, “Nice apartment!” a story the pair tell with a laugh and a little pride.
If these walls could talk, Kris likes to think they’d say thank you. Thank you for the care. For the fresh paint. For letting the concrete, steel and timber speak. “When we got it, it felt like a 30-year-old apartment that had been left neglected,” he reflects. “We breathed new life into it, made it nicer for us, and for whoever comes next.”
Who is the next person? Someone who actually uses the city; someone creative or at least creativity-adjacent. Perhaps, a first-time buyer, a young professional, a couple who want centrality without the chaos on their doorstep. It helps that the building is well built, the materials honest, and the light generous until mid-afternoon. The concrete keeps things cool; the timber warms them back up.
There’s an ease to the way Kris and Micke have shaped the space that comes from restraint as much as exuberance. They replaced what mattered and left what worked. They let the original structure lead, then layered identity across it, Aussie brightness meeting Swedish clarity, with a trace of the Asian cities they love woven in for good measure. “This was our first apartment,” Kris says. “It’s time for someone else’s first.”
They’ll go harder in the next place, adding more walls for art, and maybe a mural on the ceiling courtesy of a friend. But this home has done what first homes do at their best: it’s taught them their language. It’s been a calm stage for colour, a gallery for friendship, a city perch with a green view. And now, neatly, it’s ready to become that for someone new.
Watch the full interview here.
‘Behind The Facade’ is your backstage pass to the world of architecture and homeownership. We go beyond the status quo to bring you candid conversations with architects and homeowners, discovering the inspirations, challenges and personal stories that breathe life into these structures. It’s architecture unmasked. Raw, authentic, and deeply human.