Lulworth House | South Wing
Lulworth House | South Wing
Potts Point, NSW
Where Heritage Whispers and Light Returns
High above the leafy streets of Potts Point, where century-old Moreton Bay figs cast dancing shadows and the harbour breeze carries the scent of jasmine through heritage windows, something remarkable has unfolded. Here, within the weathered sandstone walls of St Luke’s Care, a transformation has taken place, one that speaks not of dramatic renovation, but of gentle awakening.
This is Lulworth House’s Level 3 South: a space reborn through the delicate art of listening to what a building wants to become.
The Weight of Dark Corridors Lifted
Before Gilmore Interior Design returned to complete this sister wing to their 2018 Level 3 North triumph, these corridors held a different kind of quiet. The kind that feels heavy. Residents moved through spaces where daylight struggled to reach, where the rich history of the building had somehow transformed into something that felt more like burden than blessing.
Picture walking these halls as they once were, your fingertips trailing along walls that absorbed rather than reflected light, the heritage windows somehow managing to frame views while keeping their brightness at bay. The bones were good, exceptional even, but somewhere along the decades, the soul of the space had retreated into shadow.
The challenge wasn’t simply to brighten these rooms. It was to coax life back into spaces that had forgotten how to breathe.
A Philosophy Written in Morning Light
At Gilmore Interior Design, there’s an unspoken understanding that transcends colour swatches and fabric samples: design should cradle life, not merely contain it. This belief guided every decision, from the first site walk to the final pillow placement.
Jenny Gilmore, Trina Kazi, and Ingrid Haugen didn’t just see corridors and common rooms. They saw the morning ritual of Margaret, reaching for her walking frame in soft dawn light. They imagined Thomas, navigating from his room to the dining area, needing visual cues that feel like guidance, not signage. They understood that for someone living with dementia, the difference between a shadow and a step could mean the difference between confidence and confusion.
So they began with empathy, and built from there.
The Choreography of Colour and Memory
Walk these corridors now, and you’ll understand how colour can become a language. The palette, seemingly simple at first glance, reveals its intelligence slowly, like a well-crafted story.
Begin in the eastern corridor, where soft sage walls catch the morning sun, the colour deepening and warming as the day progresses. These aren’t arbitrary choices. That particular shade of green triggers something primal and calming in our brains – it’s the colour of new growth, of protected gardens, of safety.
Move toward the communal spaces, and watch how warm blues begin to emerge, not jarring but conversational with the greens, like the sky meeting treetops. Here, a splash of buttery yellow appears in an armchair, there in a pillow, never overwhelming, but enough to lift spirits on grey days.
The genius lies not in the colours themselves, but in their choreography. Each hue leads to the next, creating an intuitive wayfinding system that residents feel rather than follow. The dining room announces itself with warmer timber tones long before you reach it. The quiet lounge whispers in muted lavenders and creams, preparing minds for rest before bodies settle into chairs.
Textures That Remember Touch
Run your palm along the new joinery, and you’ll find surfaces that invite connection. The timber laminate chosen isn’t just beautiful – it carries a warmth that synthetic materials can never replicate, a grain pattern that gives fingers something to remember.
The padded fabric bedheads in each room weren’t selected from a catalogue. They were chosen for the way they’d feel against a resting head at 3 AM, when sleep eludes and comfort becomes crucial. The fabric, a subtle weave that’s neither too smooth nor too textured, provides just enough sensory feedback to ground residents in the present moment.
Even the flooring tells a story of thoughtful selection. Carpet tiles in the corridors and lounges don’t just muffle sound; they provide a gentle resistance underfoot that helps with balance and spatial awareness. The timber planks in the dining areas create a different acoustic signature, the soft click of walking frames becomes a dinner bell of sorts, a communal rhythm that brings the space to life.
The Rotunda’s Secret Symphony
Perhaps no moment better captures the magic of this transformation than the rediscovery of the rotunda ceiling. Hidden for decades behind false panels and accumulated neglect, this architectural jewel emerged during construction like a message from the building’s past.
Stand beneath it now, in the lounge opposite the dining room, and look up. The restored dome doesn’t just add visual interest, it creates an acoustic phenomenon. Conversations held beneath it gain a peculiar intimacy, voices softened and rounded by the curved architecture. It’s become a natural gathering point, where residents find themselves drawn without quite knowing why.
The morning light that filters through its carefully restored windows creates a sundial of sorts, marking time not with harsh shadows but with gentle progressions of gold across cream walls. By afternoon, the space glows with a honeyed warmth that makes 4 PM feel like the best part of the day.
Windows That Frame More Than Views
The heritage windows – with their Art Deco curves and divided lights – posed both opportunity and challenge. Rather than competing with their inherent drama, the design team chose window dressings that act as soft frames to an ever-changing painting.
Look out from the eastern rooms, and Sydney’s skyline appears not as an imposing reminder of the city beyond, but as a distant friend. The soft furnishings filter harsh afternoon glare while maintaining the view, creating a gentle dialogue between inside and out.
From the garden-facing rooms, established trees become living artwork, their canopies creating a green cathedral visible from beds and chairs. The window treatments here are lighter, more translucent, allowing the dance of leaves and light to become part of the room’s decoration.
The Invisible Architecture of Care
What you won’t immediately see, but what residents feel every day, are the dozens of micro-decisions that make this space truly exceptional.
The lighting isn’t just bright; it’s layered. Overhead fixtures provide general illumination, while thoughtfully placed wall sconces create pools of warmth for reading or conversation. LED strips hidden beneath handrails provide navigation without glare, glowing softly through the night hours.
Door handles aren’t just functional; they’re positioned at precisely the right height for someone using a walking frame, with a grip diameter that arthritic hands can manage. The servery bench isn’t just beautiful with its unique tiles and stone finish; it’s positioned to create natural gathering points while maintaining clear sightlines for staff supervision.
Even the artwork selection reveals deep consideration. Non-abstract pieces featuring Australian flora and fauna don’t just decorate; they orient. That distinctive painting of waratahs marks the path to the dining room. The kookaburra print signals the approach to the quiet lounge. For residents navigating with memory challenges, these become landmarks in a carefully crafted geography of home.
The Alchemy of Transformation
Where once these spaces felt institutional despite their heritage bones, now they pulse with residential warmth. The transformation isn’t about erasing history, it’s about rewriting the story these rooms tell.
Staff report that medication rounds take less time now, not because of efficiency improvements, but because residents are easier to find, drawn to communal spaces that finally feel welcoming. Families visit longer, settle deeper into chairs, find themselves arriving earlier and leaving later.
One resident, whose daughter shared her observations with the design team, captured it perfectly: “Mum doesn’t just live here now. She inhabits it.”
Sustainability Woven Through Every Choice
The beauty of these spaces carries an invisible responsibility. Every material was selected not just for its appearance today, but for its dignity a decade from now.
The carpet tiles can be replaced individually when wear patterns emerge. The timber planks are sealed with finishes that can be refreshed rather than replaced. Even the furniture suppliers; Workspace, LifeCare Furniture, and Casa Mia were chosen for their commitment to end-of-life recycling programs.
This isn’t sustainability as afterthought; it’s sustainability as foundation. Because creating spaces that age gracefully isn’t just about respecting the environment, it’s about respecting the future residents who will call these rooms home.
A Living Canvas, Complete Yet Evolving
Today, Level 3 South stands as more than a successful refurbishment. It’s a masterclass in how thoughtful design can transform not just spaces, but lives lived within them.
Watch the morning routine now: residents emerging from rooms that feel like sanctuaries, moving through corridors bright with purpose, gathering in spaces that encourage connection rather than isolation. The building hasn’t just been renovated; it’s been given permission to fulfill its highest purpose.
For Gilmore Interior Design, this project represents something beyond portfolio excellence. It’s proof that when you begin with empathy, build with intelligence, and finish with soul, you create more than interiors. You create the stage upon which life’s final acts can unfold with dignity, beauty, and joy.
Completion Date
2025
Client
St Luke's Care
Architects
Curtin Architects
Builders
Paynter Dixon
Project Managers
Paynter Dixon
Other Suppliers
LifeCare Furniture, Workspace, Local & Yonder
Photographer
Ryan Linnegar
Categories
Aged Care Design
