“The soul of a man has a series of concentric envelopes round it, like the core of an onion, or the innermost of a nest of boxes. First, he has his natural garment of flesh and blood. Then, his artificial integuments, with their true skin of solid stuffs, their cuticle of lighter tissues, and their variously-tinted pigments. Thirdly, his domicile, be it a single chamber or a stately mansion. And then, the whole visible world, in which Time buttons him up as in a loose outside wrapper.”
-O. W. Holmes, The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table

The Holmes studio flows fluidly through a series of concentric boxes from an individual space at the center to an open perimeter porch that opens to the natural and social world that surrounds.

At the center of the volume, a light shaft defines the most individual space. The second layer is defined by straight columns and moveable panels–the chamber that encloses the individual. The outermost layer is supported by angled columns and invites the outside in.