The crossbeam.
A two-story L-shaped switchback in espresso oak, organized around a dark stained X-beam crossing the upper-floor ceiling.
Some stairs lead with the rail. This one leads with the ceiling. Stand at the bottom of the well and look up: a single dark stained crossbeam slices the air above you, an X carved from solid timber that defines the upper-floor geometry before the stair even gets there.
The crossbeam is the room. Heavy, dark-stained timber, two members crossing in a clean X over the second-floor opening, anchored to coffered ceiling fields painted bone white. It catches the gold ring chandelier at the center, throws a long shadow across the upper landing, and gives the whole staircase something to climb toward. The stair is generous and well-detailed, but the beam is what people remember.
The stair below it is restrained on purpose. An L-shaped switchback in espresso-stained red oak, square paneled newel posts at the corners, twisted iron balusters between. Where the Oak Brook radius next door uses turned spindles to do the lifting, this house wanted clean rectilinear posts — boxes with chamfered panel detail and a flat cap. The verticality is straight, the geometry is square, the beam is what's pulling shapes.
The balusters carry the rhythm — knuckle-midpoint twisted iron at tight pitch, the standard CRS vocabulary applied straight. Treads are espresso oak with white-painted risers; the wood is dark enough that from across the room the stair reads almost as a single black sweep with white serifs between each step. Three full flights from main floor to upper hall, the beam crossing the air above all of them.
The stair is generous and well-detailed, but the beam is what people remember.
The full upper landing with the gold ring chandelier hung beneath the X.
Basement context — the same dark vocabulary continuing below grade.
Foyer view — the lower newel anchoring the run at the leaded-glass front door.
Second-floor corridor — looking back at the stair from the upper hall.
Tell us about the stair your house deserves.
The crossbeam.
A two-story L-shaped switchback in espresso oak, organized around a dark stained X-beam crossing the upper-floor ceiling.
Some stairs lead with the rail. This one leads with the ceiling. Stand at the bottom of the well and look up: a single dark stained crossbeam slices the air above you, an X carved from solid timber that defines the upper-floor geometry before the stair even gets there.
The crossbeam is the room. Heavy, dark-stained timber, two members crossing in a clean X over the second-floor opening, anchored to coffered ceiling fields painted bone white. It catches the gold ring chandelier at the center, throws a long shadow across the upper landing, and gives the whole staircase something to climb toward. The stair is generous and well-detailed, but the beam is what people remember.
The stair below it is restrained on purpose. An L-shaped switchback in espresso-stained red oak, square paneled newel posts at the corners, twisted iron balusters between. Where the Oak Brook radius next door uses turned spindles to do the lifting, this house wanted clean rectilinear posts — boxes with chamfered panel detail and a flat cap. The verticality is straight, the geometry is square, the beam is what's pulling shapes.
The balusters carry the rhythm — knuckle-midpoint twisted iron at tight pitch, the standard CRS vocabulary applied straight. Treads are espresso oak with white-painted risers; the wood is dark enough that from across the room the stair reads almost as a single black sweep with white serifs between each step. Three full flights from main floor to upper hall, the beam crossing the air above all of them.
The stair is generous and well-detailed, but the beam is what people remember.
The full upper landing with the gold ring chandelier hung beneath the X.
Basement context — the same dark vocabulary continuing below grade.
Foyer view — the lower newel anchoring the run at the leaded-glass front door.
Second-floor corridor — looking back at the stair from the upper hall.