yinjispace

INTERIOR
Frederic Kielemoes
PHOTOGRAPHY
BIJISPACE边界人
WORDS
Fynn
EDITOR
Gina
Collection

On a grey March day softened by the quiet blush of sakura, we arrived at Frederic Kielemoes' private residence, tucked discreetly behind the Flemish landscape. It is not, strictly speaking, a home. Nor is it a gallery, nor an office. “A pavilion,” Frederic explained as we crossed the threshold in hushed groups of five or six, “not a residence.” And immediately, everything clicked into place.

It made sense, of course — especially coming from Frederic Kielemoes himself, a Belgian interior architect revered for his minimalist design ethos. His work is quiet but deeply assured: defined by a keen sensitivity to light, proportion, and emotional tone. Kielemoes composes spaces the way some compose poetry — spare, intentional, and luminous when seen under the right light. His is a simplicity sharpened to a fine point : elegant in thought, refined in taste, and committed to transforming space into something subtly extraordinary.

This was not a house designed to perform domesticity. Rather, it suspends it, reframes it. There are almost no doors — just three, in fact, for the toilet, the dressing room, and the laundry room. Instead, long curtains soften and divide space with theatrical elegance. A gesture of openness, yes, but also of quiet concealment. This is a house that understands ambiguity as an architectural tool.

The floors underfoot are concrete, embedded with selectively placed stones. They shimmer just enough to echo the carefully curated palette — walnut hues nested in alcoves, solid oak cabinetry, and white tones that coolly balance the natural materials. The house breathes in tonal harmony.

“This,” Frederic gestured to a table, “ is part of my Gilbert Collection. ” Not named after his dog, as he clarified with a smile, but rather, his dog was named after the same muse — the Belgian artist Gilbert Decock. Known for a lifetime of work oscillating between the square and the circle — between the human and the divine — Decock’s philosophy resonates through Frederic’s furniture. The table before us, a composition of circular and square forms, is both a functional object and an homage.

Though the house is mostly wood, the core structure is concrete — a combination that feels both modern and honest. There’s a mix of openness and intimacy throughout. Frederic and his wife, who have been married for 26 years, live here without children. “That’s why we chose a pavilion, not a typical house,” he said. It suits their rhythm — less about closed-off rooms, more about flow and light and shared space.

Even the layout bends expectations. The bathroom, for instance, sits just off the living area, visible from the street if curtains are open. Frederic laughed, saying his Italian mother still finds that a bit strange. But for him, it’s all part of rethinking how we live and work in the same space. His office, set just off the main area, is designed for deep focus. “When I need to concentrate, I work behind the wall,” he said.

We wandered through the rest of the home-office hybrid, pausing at niches, sculptures, and soft light filtering across carefully selected materials. As we stepped back outside, the spring air was soft and the cherry trees were in full bloom — heavy with blossoms, their branches bowed under the weight. Frederic smiled and called it lucky timing. Nothing overdone, nothing out of place — just the right moment, in the right light.

MORE PHOTOS