Ten Davidson Street, Oran Park is a 540 square metre custom home with five bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a design philosophy that can be summarised as: more. More ceiling. More curve. More marble. More iron scrollwork. More Jesus. The exterior alone features two curved glass towers, a copper-orange feature box cantilevered from the second storey, glass brick panels, LED fence lights in red and green, and a full-size Virgin Mary statue on the front lawn. The fence is white picket. It is doing its best.
Inside, the entry hall is anchored by a compass rose inlaid in black and white marble, above which twin wrought iron staircases rise symmetrically to the upper floor, their balustrades hand-scrolled in an elaborate botanical pattern that continues all the way up and then keeps going across the landing. At the far end of the ground floor, visible from the entry, a large crucifix hangs above the dining table. This means that every meal eaten at this table is, architecturally speaking, the Last Supper. We assume this is intentional.
The ceilings are their own complete project. The lounge room has a swirling galaxy pattern in gunmetal plaster with recessed lighting at every curve. The kitchen has the same motif scaled up, plus a full-wall splashback in embossed silver lightning-strike texture, a waterfall marble island, and a curved black feature pillar that swoops from floor to ceiling like a wave breaking sideways. The bathroom is floor-to-ceiling black mosaic tile with a spa bath lit from underneath in electric blue and a vanity mirror framed in what appears to be a controlled explosion of chrome.
The master bedroom has a curved glass wall overlooking the street, a wave-form ceiling coving in black and white, and — standing in the corner, life-size, arms open, luminous in the ambient light of Western Sydney — the Sacred Heart of Jesus. We want to be respectful here. We also want to be honest: the Sacred Heart of Jesus is the best thing in this room, possibly in this house, possibly on this street. He’s watching over the bed. He’s watching over the compass rose downstairs. He is, in the truest possible sense, the spiritual anchor of a house that has thrown absolutely everything else at the wall and watched it stick. Jesus take the wheel. Or at least the staircase.
