I wrote, last week, about my love of lofty spaces and my desire to own an artsy yet elegant and eclectic loft in downtown New York City where I could entertain elegantly and write and paint and photograph casually. A free spirit who doesn't much like to be confined by walls, rules or anything for that matter, the loft is a perfect space for a personality like mine. I've always thought it would be such fun to transform an old abandoned church and turn it into a lofty peaceful living space. It's got nothing to do with religion, for I am one of the least religious people you will meet, but much more to do with the space and the architecture. There's no room for confinement as in these wonderful conversions you can literally spread your wings and fly. In the images that I have chosen many have chosen to stay true to the building's original architectural style and many others have done a total conversion, adding a modern, minimalist touch. To keep the stained glass or to remove it to allow daylight to pour in from outside? To remain true to the original architecture or to modernize it? To fill the spaces or to keep them open? While I admire the modern touch and new life breathed into these old edifices, I prefer the old architecture, for what attracts me to these spaces is not merely their size and expanse, but the sense of history both within and beyond the walls. Can I have both, I wonder? I'd love a loft in the city and a converted church in the country... I'd love to have you as my guest. Which would you prefer to visit?

via Exterior Portfolio

via Curbed

via Visi

via Knoll

via Gossip Rocks

via Curbed

via Inhabitat

via CNN

via Maison Belle

via Howes and Rigby

via Blue Room Architecture

via The New York Times

via Pinterest, original source unlocatable

via Chameleon Interiors

via Nicholas Matheus

Jessica

Houzz

I've always had a thing for lofts - those wide, expansive spaces that have a modern, airy industrial feel to them. I fell in love with them when I was in my early 20s. They seemed to me to represent all that I was not yet at that point - They represented a certain amount of success as lofts in Manhattan are pricey. They represented elegance and sophistication and they represented artistry, creativity and freedom. In my early 20s I wanted and aspired to be all that. Still a bit awkward, having not left my teen years that long ago, I wanted to be sophisticated and "grown up" one day. I was doing my best to conform to what I thought society expected from me but I was a creative - an artist with an incredible imagination and more than anything I was a free spirit who hated to be confined to anything. I suppose, though I am much older now, with double the years and a certain amount of sophistication, I am still an artist, a creative, a free-spirit and I still hate to be tied down and confined. I would still love to have a loft somewhere high in the sky. A loft with great, tall ceilings, with exposed brick, beams and ducts. A space that is raw and sparse and industrial and rather harsh but can be transformed and softened and manipulated into anything at all... I'd chose elegant and artsy. I'd bask in the light of the oversized windows... I'd paint... I'd write... looking down at the great city below me, I would be inspired... and sometimes I would sit and just stare at the world around me and below me and I would just soak it all in. Of course I would have lovely dinner parties in my open, expansive space with great food and drink and friends and laughter... and I wouldn't worry about the dishes after they'd all leave late, late, late into the night hours... I shouldn't as living in a loft brings with it a sort of carefree attitude... Maybe I should pick up a lottery ticket...