Screen plays

Latticework is the shape-shifter of architecture. If walls are solid, windows transparent and doorways are void, then screens and scrims are somewhere in between. They somehow simultaneously create separation and togetherness at the same time, keeping things apart and pulling them together.

And they do so with flare. Throughout history, latticework has brought an ornamental beauty to a space or building. Jali screens at the Taj Mahal, encircling the central tomb, were so deftly carved as to make stone look as fine and nimble as lace. Taken to its limits, what is the Eiffel Tower if not a giant, exuberant building woven entirely of latticework?

Even in a contemporary context, where our design sensibility is decidedly more stripped down, the colours, textures and patterns of a well-wrought screen can add punch to a space – a bit like a bold scarf billowing out of a simple, sedate coat.

In a home he designed in Toronto, architect Paul Raff used Islamic-inspired screens (a reference to his client's family history) to mark transitional spaces – a staircase, a corridor. "The fine geometries and detail contrast the larger lofty forms and spaces," Raff says, "which makes the whole ensemble more beautiful."

In that sense, the best ones are not only striking; they also have a purpose. In the case of Raff's place, they help orient and guide people through the house. Other screens with open perforations let air flow through while allowing for privacy, and solid ones can let light through while muffling sound. It's this combination of form and function that helps latticework endure.

Here, six of the most eye-opening, contemporary takes.

Atelier Général's pixelated stair screen looks like an homage to the digital age, being that it's laser cut. However, behind the techy aesthetic is a play on history: the light gauge steel is the same material as Montreal's iconic exterior staircases. The white scrim is meant to be a bright contrast to the 150-year-old, wooden wall that it sits in front of. ateliergeneral.ca

In a Vancouver home, architect Marianne Amodio shows how a lot can be achieved with simple, thoughtful moves. A screen wall obscuring the stairs is composed of a series of identical maple two by fours, each resting on custom steel plates. By rotating each slat 2.5-degrees, though, Amodio creates a beautiful sense of movement, not only as the eye travels across the wood as it opens and closes, but as light filters through the shifting gaps of the lattice.

When architects Stephen Kopp and Monica Adair, husband-and-wife co-founders of the Acre, had their first son, Hugo, they wanted to be able to bring him to their studio to keep an eye on him while they worked. But they didn't want their workspace to be overrun with toys, so, being architects, they designed a solution: a cedar play hut with a colourful scrim that provides the perfect blend of playfulness, privacy and parental supervision. theacre.ca/main

For the uninitiated, an abacus is like a primitive calculator (and again, for the uninitiated, a calculator is what people used to add things before smart phones). This giant version, designed by Toronto's Jeff Goodman Studio, isn't practical for math, but it's beautiful bobbles make an excellent room divider. The modularity of the system means it can be adapted for any space. The glass is a beautiful vessel for light to pass through. jeffgoodmanstudio.com

In a home that architect Paul Raff designed in Toronto, laser cut metal screens "add an intricacy and a play of layers, views, and light," he says. "They distinguish spaces in a way which adds character and adds dimension to the spatial experience of moving through the house." paulraffstudio.com

The wall panel on the landing in this Denegri Bessai-designed home is a visual clue that the upstairs has been renovating – it's an enticement, in a way, to see what's around the bend. Fittingly, it combines both old and new: a traditional Islamic motif rendered in CNC-routed acrylic. denegribessaistudio.com