Curved air.

John Wray's flat, on the first floor of a nineteenth-century factory in the East End of London that was once devoted to the production of dog-biscuits, has been designed, built and decorated by him.

A New Zealand scientist turned architect, Wray is something of a rarity -- not so much for his change of profession (Norman Foster began as an accountant) but because in this country DIY inclinations rarely coincide with minimalist architectural sensibilities and the sculptural preoccupations seen here.

This area of London near the Limehouse Canal is fairly dismal and the old factory building, converted into flats and only half-occupied, feels melancholy. Within it, like a kernel in a shell, Wray's flat is tautly designed, full of light and, with restrained bursts of colour, anything but melancholy.

The legacy of the old factory was high-ceilinged space and large metal-framed windows. Wray cleared the flat of all obstructions, leaving a beam and structural column, clad to give a rectangular profile. Two curved trusses towards the rear support a lowered ceiling over a sleeping area, so that one huge space for the living area is left to be flooded by light from the windows and giving on to balconies. To unify the various areas, Wray laid down a tongue-and-grooved floor of second-grade American oak, which is comparatively cheap and has interesting variations in colour and grain.

Within this richly floored, white light-filled space, Wray has made much of the division between open and intimate space, making functional necessity the justification for a play of abstract, sculptural forms. The bedroom at the back is indicated by a free-standing screen of glowing terracotta that curves away from the plane of an imaginary dividing wall and around either side of the pivotal column, counterbalancing the curved edge of the lowered ceiling above. This single red plane is the focus of the flat. When charged with light (from a fluorescent tube fixed to the column's inner side), the colour becomes intense against the pure white geometrical forms in front of and around it.

In general, Wray's manipulation of light is skilful, used to denote different areas in what is essentially a single space. The bedroom, made comparatively dim and intimate, has a starry ceiling, fitted with tiny 12v dichroic lamps. To get to the washroom installed in the darkest inside corner of the flat, you step on to a raised platform and into a small room apparently full of natural light. The shower cabinet has been made into an artificial light well by the simple expedient of raising its ceiling to the full height, above that of the bedroom's, and fitting concealed simulated daylighting.

Finishes throughout the flat are simple: painted plaster throughout except for the bathroom, which is finished in white waterproof laminate. Wray shares the current enthusiasm for stainless steel prison lavatories and much of his careful detailing, like the light switches and door handles, are in stainless steel. The kitchen, designed and made by Wray in austere fashion, has a stainless steel sink and counter top with kitchen furniture finished in dark slate-green Trimite industrial paint.