Every brick tells a story. Every beam holds memories. We don't just restore buildings—we honor the craftspeople who built 'em and give their work another century to shine.
Heritage work isn't about making old buildings look new. It's about understanding what made them special in the first place and protecting that character while meeting modern needs. We've spent years getting our hands dirty figuring out how our predecessors solved problems with the materials they had.
These projects represent years of research, careful planning, and honestly, a few sleepless nights worrying about getting the details right.
Toronto, ON | Completed 2021
Walking into this place for the first time was like stepping back into the 1850s—minus the whiskey smell. The timber frame was still solid (those old-growth beams don't mess around), but decades of water damage had taken their toll on the brick envelope.
We spent three months just documenting every detail before touching anything. Found original cooperage marks on the beams, layers of historic paint that told us about color schemes through the decades, even some worker graffiti from 1887 that we carefully preserved behind glass.
The trick was inserting modern building systems—HVAC, electrical, proper insulation—without compromising the structure's character. We used traditional lime mortar for brick repairs (cement would've been wrong for the period and damaging long-term) and worked with heritage consultants to match the original window profiles while meeting current energy codes.
Original Materials Preserved
Sustainability Certification
Design & Construction
On-site during the Queen Street Mill restoration, 2020
This one was personal. The mill where my great-grandfather worked in the 1940s, now converted into creative studios and maker spaces. When the developer approached us, I'll admit I got a bit emotional about it.
Built in 1912, the complex had been abandoned since the '80s. Roof was shot, windows gone, pigeons everywhere. But the bones? Absolutely incredible. Those cast iron columns and heavy timber floors were built to handle massive textile machinery, so they laughed at modern loading requirements.
Hamilton, ON | 2019-2020
The 1907 CNR roundhouse sat vacant for 35 years. Massive structure—we're talking 40-foot ceilings, radial brick walls, and a turntable pit that had become a small pond. City was gonna demolish it until a community group raised hell (rightfully so).
Now it's a community cultural center and event space. We kept the radial geometry, restored the turntable as a performance platform, and recreated those skylights using modern glazing tech that actually keeps the weather out (novel concept).
Ontario Heritage Trust Excellence Award 2021
Canadian Green Building Council Innovation Prize
Ottawa, ON | 2018
1889 Beaux-Arts landmark converted to boutique hotel. Terracotta facade restoration was intense—we had to source clay from the original quarry in Ohio.
Kingston, ON | 2017
1845 limestone Gothic Revival. Fire damage in 2015 nearly destroyed it. Rebuilt timber roof using traditional joinery—no metal fasteners in the entire frame.
London, ON | 2022
1920s agricultural equipment factory. Kept the overhead crane system as sculptural elements. Residents actually use them for moving furniture—works great.
Stratford, ON | 2019
1913 Edwardian Classical station. Now a restaurant and theater space. Original ticket windows became the bar—seemed appropriate somehow.
There's no one-size-fits-all approach. Every building has its own story, its own problems, its own personality. But here's generally how we work through it.
Dig through archives, interview old-timers who remember the building, document every crack and stain. This phase takes longer than clients expect, but it's crucial.
Structural engineers, materials scientists, sometimes even archaeologists. We figure out what's salvageable, what needs replacing, what's surprisingly solid.
Balance historic character with modern needs. HVAC that doesn't destroy plaster, accessibility that respects original layouts, tech infrastructure that's invisible.
Work with specialists who still know forgotten trades. Traditional plasterers, stone masons who cut by hand, carpenters who understand historic joinery.
Look, I get it. Sometimes it'd be easier and cheaper to just tear down an old building and start fresh. But we lose something when we do that—not just history, but craft and materials and construction methods we can't replicate anymore.
Those old buildings were built by people who expected them to last centuries. They used local materials, understood their climate, and had time to do things right. There's a sustainability argument here too—the most eco-friendly building is often the one that's already standing.
Plus, cities with preserved heritage just feel better. They've got texture and depth. Walking past a beautifully restored 1890s factory beats staring at another glass condo box any day of the week.
"The greenest building is the one that already exists."
- Carl Elefante, Architect
Whether it's a crumbling barn or a downtown landmark, we'd love to hear about it. Heritage work is what gets us out of bed in the morning (well, that and coffee).
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