In the Hamptons, where glass walls and clean lines have long served as the quick reference for modern luxury, Blaze Makoid has dedicated the past two decades to creating something far less ostentatious, yet considerably more lasting. His work isn’t driven by fleeting trends or even by the lens of a camera, despite living in an era where many homes are conceived as much for Instagram as for everyday living. Instead, Makoid’s architectural journey begins on a smaller, almost imperceptible scale: the natural reach of a hand, the comfortable rhythm of someone moving through a room, the quiet, unwritten choreography of daily existence.

From his early days tackling modest projects to his current role shaping some of the Hamptons’ most significant legacy homes, Makoid has steadily resisted the urge to “max out” for the sake of a quick resale or a grand spectacle. His philosophy stands as both pragmatic and quietly revolutionary — to design for the ninety-five percent of life that truly unfolds within a space, not just the fleeting five percent. He seeks to create environments meant to evolve and endure for generations, rather than be flipped in a single season. In a market increasingly defined by its uniformity, its sheer scale, and the relentless pursuit of the perfect image, Makoid puts forth a different idea: architecture viewed not as an object, but as a lived experience — one that often cannot be fully captured, and indeed, was never meant to be.
The Hamptons have shifted from shingle-style tradition to glass-and-steel minimalism. Do you see your work as part of that disruption — or a response to it?
This shift started years ago, and we were fortunate to be only in that world to begin with. When I started the office in 2000, there wasn’t a lot of demand for what I was interested in exploring.
Your work has a very clear architectural voice. How do you maintain that when you’re designing for clients with strong personalities and expectations?
It can be a challenge, and to be completely honest, it’s not always successful. That said, we’ve been incredibly fortunate to have been entrusted by some wonderful clients who not just share, but on that rare occasion — push our vision.
At the ultra-luxury level, is architecture still about living — or is it about status and resale? Or all-of-the-above?
It’s a bit of each. When I started the firm, we were doing incredibly small projects. The benefit of that experience was that it allowed us to focus on the smallest of issues, primarily concerning the scale and actions of the human body. How far can someone reach? How high should this hook be? How wide should an aisle be to allow two people to walk holding hands? Basically – life. I’m also a realist. No matter how wealthy you may be, these are still substantial investments, and that has to be considered. Much of our work we look at as legacy projects. They’re not designed (or built) to flip. They’re intended to be in the family for generations as well as bring families together in the present.
I would be plastering any home you designed for me on an hourly basis to my Instagram — they are absolutely stunning. How much does the reality of social media and listing culture influence architecture today?
I love this question. I think about this all the time. I’ve watched this cultural shift with a degree of sadness. It doesn’t just affect architecture, it affects how people experience the world, and I don’t think that much for the better. I watch every day, the need for the perfect image outweighing the actual experience. It’s like checking a box and feels so planned that the possibility of the “wonderful accident” has all but evaporated. I also appreciate the compliment, but you might be surprised to hear that our projects are incredibly difficult to photograph. We design more for the experience than the object, and that is hard to capture in a still image. Our photographers complain all the time!
In places like Sagaponack and Bridgehampton, there’s increasing pressure on scale — bigger homes, more amenities. Where do you personally draw the line between luxury and excess?
This is really a pressure of the investment. The need to “max out” the build. These properties are worth so much that this a battle constantly fought. I understand the thinking. We do try to have honest conversations with our clients about their needs vs. their wants. We often talk about designing for the 95% of your life, not the 5%. We also discuss a long-term master plan when it’s appropriate. Design and build for now that allows for a second or third phase of work in the future. Let the project evolve as your life does.
Clients in the Hamptons often want privacy — but also want homes that make a statement. How do you reconcile those two impulses?
To some extent, it’s the idea of quiet luxury. We don’t need the three-story arch announcing the front door, but when you do approach the front door, what is the experience? Is it abrupt or leisurely? What are the materials? How are they finished? This is insanely difficult to communicate prior to the completion of the project. We can’t communicate this in a drawing.
There’s a growing sameness at the top end of the market — clean lines, open glass, neutral palettes. Do you worry that luxury architecture is becoming formulaic?
To some extent, yes, and I think it’s twofold. One issue is the fear of being original. This goes back to the investment issue. If the project is too unique, how does the market assess it’s value. The other, in my opinion, is the way our zoning codes are constructed. They have become so prescriptive that it has stifled exploration to some degree.
Sustainability is often part of the conversation, but rarely the headline in ultra-luxury homes. How real is that commitment in your projects?
We’re not pretending to “greenwash” our work. The truth is, our local building codes are very demanding when it comes to energy efficiency. More so than most of the country. We also believe our projects are designed and built to last for many generations. At least, that’s our goal.
What’s something clients ask for all the time that you think is actually a mistake?
Roof decks. If anyone from my office reads this, they all could answer the question for you. I can’t tell you how many roof decks we’ve designed that never get used. Maybe to have that first champagne toast when you first move in, but pretty much never after that. They add a substantial cost to the construction and become a maintenance nightmare.
When you walk through the Hamptons now, do you feel inspired?
The key to your question is “walk.” I walk a lot. Often in town (Sag Harbor) but mostly at Gibson Beach or Cedar Point — and not for Instagram selfies! Walking is the best way for me to clear my head and way more productive in coming up with ideas — whether design or business — then sitting at my desk where I’m bombarded with interruptions.
To learn more about Blaze Makoid and his work, visit bmaarchitects.com.




































