As you approach Andrew Lynds’ house in Warren, with its clean, single-sloped roof jutting toward the sky like a ski jump, the eye searches for what seems to be missing: a front door. But it’s only an illusion. The entranceway is hidden in plain sight in a recessed black cutout that faces the driveway.
“The idea was to make the front door disappear, like in a James Bond movie,” said Whitney Phillips, owner of W. Phillips Company, the Warren builder who worked with Lynds during the pandemic to make his vision a reality.
A 54-year-old native of Lawrence, Kan., Lynds is the owner and innkeeper of the Mad River Barn, 10 miles north in Waitsfield. For about a decade he has owned this three-acre, wooded and boulder-strewn property abutting the Mad River, where he had originally planned to build a house with his then-wife. After their divorce, he decided to go ahead with the project anyway — but do it his way.
“I wanted something different,” Lynds said. Because he had worked with Phillips on previous projects at the inn, he gave the builder free rein and a simple directive: “If you have an idea, run with it.”
And run he did. Both inside and out, Lynds’ 2,900-square-foot abode bears some of the stylistic influences of the late Dave Sellers, the iconoclastic architect and builder from Warren with whom Phillips apprenticed and worked for years. But unlike many of his mentor’s projects, Phillips’ houses have a more refined appearance while still defying stylistic convention. Lynds’ home, with its steel-cable railings, exposed steel I beams and radiant-heated, polished concrete floors, combines the minimalism of industrial chic with the comfy, lived-in charm of a mountain chalet.
Some of Phillips’ aesthetic touches, such as the mono-sloped roof, also served a dual purpose of saving time and money during the construction. Without dormers or sharp angles to build, Phillips could reduce his labor costs.
Another such decision: There’s not a speck of drywall in the entire house.
Why not? “I just don’t like white,” Lynds said.
Instead, most of the ceilings and walls are covered with sheet steel three-eighths of an inch thick, which is both aesthetically appealing and, surprisingly, labor-saving.
“When you do Sheetrock, you touch every square inch 12 times, from the moment it gets delivered, carried inside, installed, mudded and primed,” Phillips explained. “To be honest, this was less expensive.”
Having walls of steel poses a few logistical challenges, such as how to hang pictures, mirrors and shelves. Their solution: heavy-duty magnetic hooks, which are sturdy, easily moved, and require no drilling or stud finding.
“I can put a picture wherever I want without putting a hole in the wall,” Lynds said.
Because metal tends to sweat on hot and humid days, the house has to be climate controlled with dehumidifying heat pumps to prevent the walls from rusting.
Entering the house from the front vestibule, visitors pass a sliding metal door — taken off an old shipping container — that hides a utility closet and then step down into the open-floor-plan kitchen and den. The room’s expansive, nearly floor-to-ceiling windows, which have motorized shades, face the mountains to the west.
Embedded in a metal railing separating the foyer from the kitchen is a thick slab of live-edge walnut, cut from the same tree that Phillips used to build a bench for the foyer, the kitchen shelves and the step leading into the den. The railing and I beams are accented with colored lighting.
Because a room wrapped entirely in steel — the kitchen counters are also metal — might have felt cold and sterile, Phillips added warmth by installing cedar planks in the ceiling, island and kitchen cabinets. Above the island hangs a canopy that conceals a support beam, a stove vent, stereo speakers and lighting. In the den, a huge sliding glass door opens to a balcony overlooking the river.
For both the kitchen drawers and the staircase to the second floor, Phillips chose an unusual building material for a home: Skatelite. The highly durable, compressed-paper product, originally developed for skateboard parks, never needs to be painted or refinished.
Lynds isn’t a skateboarder himself. But about a decade ago Phillips had another company called Warren Pieces that repurposed salvaged lumber to build high-end wooden longboards. They were both functional and pieces of art.
Lynds said he implicitly trusted Phillips to make such stylistic decisions, sometimes just days before a section of the project began, because “he knows what I like.” Even the welds on the black metal staircase railing, which builders typically try to conceal, were done using bronze to make them visually pop.
Similarly, when Phillips asked Lynds to make an aesthetic choice, such as the light switches that resemble the knobs on a 1970s stereo system, “Andy knocked it out of the park,” Phillips said.
Lynds’ pride and joy sits at the top of the stairs on the second floor: a full-wall display of his Converse sneaker collection — 142 pairs in all, accumulated over 20 years.
I pinch myself that I get to live here.
Andrew Lynds
Opposite the sneaker wall is the building crew’s own pet project: a floor-to-ceiling mosaic, assembled by W. Phillips’ Mike Demarzo, composed of scrap materials from the jobsite. The decorative wall is structural and serves as a partition from an office and workout area on the other side. It includes pieces of decking, steel from the kitchen backsplash, wood trimmings and leftover metal grates.
“They’re not the kind of things that people typically save for anything,” Phillips said.
The mosaic isn’t the only recycled material incorporated into the house. Throughout it are African mahogany windowsills repurposed from an old deck that Phillips had dismantled on a previous job.
The second floor features cathedral ceilings, a raised platform bed with accent lighting above, and two large ceiling fans that resemble propellers on a submarine. In keeping with Lynds’ aversion to white, even the heat pumps are black. The only white visible in the house are the smoke detectors.
Like the kitchen, the primary bathroom features dark steel countertops, as well as a slate-colored basin sink and an unusual-looking toilet.
“When I found out the name of the color, I was like, ‘Fuck yeah, I need a thunder-gray toilet in my house!’” Lynds said with a laugh.
Indeed, the entire place has a playful and laid-back vibe, from the skateboard deck art on the walls to the Lego Eiffel Tower to the replica of the “major award” leg lamp from the holiday movie classic A Christmas Story. “Ted Lasso” fans will appreciate Lynds’ Kansas license plate that reads “BELIEVE.”
“I’ve been here five years, and I still come back to this house and it feels new,” he said. “I pinch myself that I get to live here. It’s that cool.”
Gallery: More images from Lynds’ house in Warren
Photos: Jeb Wallace-Brodeur
The original print version of this article was headlined “Steel Away | Industrial chic meets mountain chalet in a hip Mad River Valley bachelor pad”
This article appears in Nest — Winter 2026.
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