I still remember the loft my father built into the corner of my childhood bedroom in our newly constructed home—a small sanctuary perched above the everyday. It carried the faint, comforting scent of fresh-cut wood, and to my four-year-old self, it felt like both refuge and reward.

That space was my first experience of what a home could be: not just a structure, but a feeling. It marked the beginning of a lifelong appreciation for the art and mea...