Months into collective efforts to flatten the curve, those of us lucky enough to be working remotely may be feeling overly familiar with our own homes, rooms once traveled through quite casually on our way to somewhere else and that must now function as our entire world. Inevitably, they fall short, and we start to imagine ourselves — worry-free — in different, better versions. Zoom calls and Instagram Live clips taunt us with small slivers of alternatives — intimacy has, in so many ways, been curtailed, and yet we’re getting glimpses into spaces we’ve never seen before. Perhaps you, too, have been distracted by the poster, stack of books or unusually colored wall behind the person on the other end of the platform and wondered about what is just out of view and what it might reveal about its owner’s true essence.

To satisfy that voyeuristic impulse, we recommend browsing some of the most eclectic homes featured in T. These are spaces imbued not simply with good taste (which over time can become stale) but a point of view, and therefore really do seem like worlds unto themselves. Take the immaculately preserved Corona, Queens, abode of the musician Louis Armstrong (with its mirrored bathroom and space-age-inspired kitchen), a surrealist house in Portland with LED lights lining the staircase or an erotic film studio turned California dream house. Each one is its own sort of sanctuary, and a virtual tour or two is sure to get you, however briefly, out of your house and head.

Nearly 50 years after Louis Armstrong’s death, his Corona, Queens, home — now the site of the Louis Armstrong House Museum — remains remarkably well preserved, right down to the half-full bottle of Jack Daniel’s that remains in his liquor cabinet. As a result, it’s not only a stunning tribute to the musician (housing an archive of his books and his array of trumpets) but also to the influence of midcentury design.

The furniture designer Guillermo Santomà’s Casa Horta in Barcelona is another house that plays tricks on the visitor: What at first appears to be a modest single-story home actually comprises three stories, with rooms that seem to melt into one another thanks to shared color schemes, holes in walls and grated floors that light shines through. The bones of the house date back to the early 1900s, but after purchasing it roughly six years ago, Santomà and a small crew started remodeling, which, for the most part, meant tearing down existing walls and creating space. In a way, the result is an extension of his design practice: “That it grows, that it connects, that it gets mixed up,” he says, “you don’t quite know where one thing ends and another begins.”

The architect Sou Fujimoto spent the six years following his graduation from the University of Tokyo doing, well, nothing. During that period, Nikil Saval writes, he honed “his idea of what architecture ought to be.” And it proved fruitful: He has since gone on to render that idea — interrogating sets of oppositions like city and nature, inside and outside, isolation and exposure — in a series of clever, conceptual buildings and residences. The architect’s work, in Tokyo and beyond, stands out for its “perfect fusion of conceptual daring and architectural function.”

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