ike all card-carrying Modernists, the architect Steven Learner is allergic to clutter. ''It's the horror of horror vacui,'' he says, referring to the Latinism for the impulse to leave marks on every space. But when a California couple commissioned him to reconfigure their Manhattan pied-à-terre — an exposed 1,400-square-foot box in the north tower of the glass-and-steel complex designed by Richard Meier off the West Side Highway — he found himself adding, not subtracting, and actually minimizing a view for which most New Yorkers would kill.

''It's almost too much,'' Learner says of the all-encompassing panorama, gesturing like a flight attendant pointing to the nearest emergency exits. ''The one thing that I really strive for in my residential work is a sense of intimacy. In order to make a space like this private and comfortable, it was important to break it down into a manageable, human scale.''

While the official Richard Meier floor plan positioned the bedrooms on the southeast aspect of the building — the only side with a solid wall — Learner and his team instead decided to redesign the raw space into the shape of an inverted doughnut so that the kitchen and bathrooms would be in the middle and the private areas strategically concealed. ''One way we dealt with privacy,'' he says, ''was to put the bedroom in the northwest corner, where the nearest neighbor is basically in New Jersey.''

The unconventional design also forces one to walk around the apartment, with the view revealing itself bit by bit, like an old-school ecdysiast teasing the audience with tantalizing glimpses. (Other touches include being able to see the Empire State and Chrysler buildings from the deliberately placed bathroom mirror, and a reflection of the Hudson River at night in a polarized glass screen in the living area.)

Aside from considerations of privacy, the floor-to-ceiling windows created the additional challenge of taming the abundant light that floods into the space. The sunlight is so severe at times that even Calvin Klein, the building's most famously bronzed resident, would have to vacuum carrying a parasol. Learner's solution was to use linen curtains that incorporate both diaphanous and more opaque panels so that even when the sun is at its harshest, parts of the view are always on display. ''The curtains are made by the Mary Bright Studio and play a big role in terms of allowing you to see out but not be seen,'' Learner says. ''We added a layer of blanketlike chenille in the bedroom to create an area that can be totally blocked out.''

To further emphasize the changing nature of light in the apartment, from the intense brightness of the east and the south to the very soft glow from the north, Learner used a distinctive wall treatment that resembles Venetian plaster.

''Venetian plaster typically features big swooping gestures, and that's not at all what we wanted,'' he says. ''But this finish, which is more like plaster that has been waxed, allows the light to play against it at certain times, and only as you move around can you see the light moving across it. It highlights how both you and the light negotiate the space.''

For artificial lighting, Learner turned to Melanie Freundlich, who created sophisticated fixtures that are set flush into the ceiling and have no trim on them. More important, they allow the views to be seen at night.

''We were adamant about that,'' Learner says.

''How many times have you been in a room at night and all you can see is yourself reflected and not the view?''

Given the relatively small size of the space, as well as its many geometries and profuse light, Learner opted for a speckled terrazzo floor. ''I love the endlessness of it,'' he says. ''If you put a stone floor like this down, it has a dimension, a scale, something to measure against. And because of the amount of light in here, an incredibly dark floor doesn't read as such.''

The main hurdle that Learner was unable to clear was the apartment's lack of wall space for hanging art (only one robust Jason Martin piece hangs near the shaded entrance); unfortunate, as his clients are avid collectors.

''It was certainly an issue,'' he concedes. ''But they also have a passion for architecture and design. Plus, the way the light plays off the water, plays off the shiny floor, plays off the walls, is as special as a work of art.''