It’s mid-morning at Bev and Wally Seinsheimer’s Chisholm Street home, and sunlight streams in through the huge windows. “This is the best time of day here,” Wally offers. “I don’t know,” says Bev, ­languishing alongside her husband on a crisp white couch. “I like all times of day here.”

Wally smiles and nods approvingly, because her statement speaks the simple truth about the couple’s experience since moving, in August 2006, into the one-­bedroom condominium at the former Murray Vocational School. They had been living for nearly a decade in an historic single house in Ansonborough when their friend artist John Carroll Doyle called to say he was putting his place up for sale. The timing was as perfect as the “Slightly South of Broad” location—the Seinsheimers were ready to downsize. “The stewardship of a fine old home in Charleston is an important responsibility,” says Wally, who heads Dolphin Architects and Builders. “You need to nurture it, and we did; but after nine years, we needed something turnkey.”

They also needed something bright.

The Seinsheimers spend half the year at their mountain home in Cashiers, North Carolina, with Wally traveling back and forth to the Lowcountry for work. “When I would return to the old place, it was so dark,” he recalls. “I would be miserable, missing my wife. I still miss her when we’re apart. But this is so wide open; it feels very different to be alone in
this space.”

Key to their decision to move here was the copious wall space, which offers ­plenty of room for their collection of contemporary art. Visitors are immediately struck by the sense that they have entered a small yet bountiful museum. The entryway’s colorful Iris Lake by Robert Rosenquist sets the tone, which is fueled by an abundance of thought-provoking works that stimulate the senses.

A largely neutral palette provides a harmonious backdrop for works by Miró, Picasso, Matisse, and other 19th- and 20th-century masters from around the world.  Local artists, past and present, are well-­represented here also, with paintings by Alfred Hutty and West Fraser among the couple’s favorites.  “As you can see, there’s no particular theme—it’s all different,” says Wally, noting that he and his wife make a special effort to meet present-day artists and attend lectures that offer insight into the inspiration and ideas behind the art. “We like to buy things that express something vital to us.”

Conversation pieces abound here, particularly among the sculptures, which draw visitors to contemplate unusual forms. In the home’s southeastern corner sits a geodesic dome by Buckminster Fuller, the futurist and designer whom Wally feels lucky to have heard speak several years ago, when the design innovator was 83 years old. Another favorite piece is the kinetic sculpture by George Rickey. A maquette of a 14-foot-tall work in steel, its unadorned metal lines move gracefully, positioned on one of the deep window sills that distinguish the Seinsheimer’s main living areas.   

It’s likely that the work of art that ­causes the most stir among friends is also the most functional: The Seinsheimer’s 600-pound dining table by Italian ­designer Saporiti is a piece of glass that seems to be teetering on a massive slab of concrete. “It drives people crazy because it’s off-center,” says Wally. “But that’s what makes it fun.”

Equally quirky is one of their most recent acquisitions. Titled Photo Album—Four Corners, the quartet is a large-scale steel replication of the type of photo ­holders once used in old-fashioned scrapbooks. Positioned on the wall and supporting nothing but air, it offers the ­viewer a sort of tabula rasa with which to imagine anything.

Bev and Wally credit the imagination of interior architect Cameron Wilson from LS3P Associates and designer Carolyn Griffith for the clever rehabilitation that transformed their 1,910 square feet into a style-meets-function stunner. “There isn’t a room in here we didn’t touch,” says Bev. “Our biggest objective was to gain storage space.”

Among the challenges toward this end were mechanical and plumbing shafts that jutted out from around the fireplace, creating both a functional challenge as well as a visual distraction. Wilson’s solution was to fur the wall out to create a clean and level plane, which streamlined the aesthetic and allowed for additional storage. Simplifying the lines of the rooms—such as those that now surround the hearth—focused on the positive aspects of the existing rooms, the interior architect explains.

“When we first toured the house, we immediately noticed the great bone ­structure,” says Wilson, noting that the large architectural windows create their own art by dramatically framing the exterior view. “Pure in its line, the space read like an urban loft,” Wilson says. “We ­wanted to ensure that when it was completed, our solution complemented the simplicity that already existed, while enhancing the owners’ furniture and personal art collection.”
Wally admits that he’d gladly pack the place from top to bottom with fine “eye candy”—if Bev would allow it. She believes wholeheartedly that less is more. “Bev is a master at editing,” says Griffith. “She has paired down and paired down. It really is an exciting stage of life when being minimal becomes enough.”

Downsizing meant the Seinsheimers needed rooms that could multitask, and the success of this goal is most apparent in the master bedroom, which doubles as her home office. Wally calls it “Bev Inc. International.” Here, eight-foot-tall built-in closets open to reveal a desk, bookshelves, and file area adjacent to copious space for his-and-her clothing. Lit from above and retaining its natural-wood patina, the unembellished, elegant row of millwork allows the eye to extend back to the original wall surface, emphasizing the tall ceilings that define the home.

To further increase storage, the Seinsheimers converted a full bathroom into a hallway closet, leaving an entryway powder room for visitors. There is no sleeping area for guests, but the couple is unapologetic about their retreat meant for two. After all, Charleston has an abundance of quaint bed and breakfasts.

They are hardly hiding out, however.

The residents of Three Chisholm are a highly sociable bunch. Nearly everyone in the building has a dog or two. “This is sort of like living in a sorority house: we’re in and out of each other’s places all the time,” jokes Bev, adding with a laugh, “This morning, I got caught tap dancing in the hallways.”