Let’s be real for a second. Split-levels are the awkward teenagers of the architectural world. They’ve got these weird half-flights of stairs, tiny foyers that feel like closets, and that strange "sunken" vibe that makes you feel like you’re living in a 1970s sitcom—and not the cool, retro kind. But honestly? They are everywhere. From the "Sidesplit" common in suburban Ontario to the "Tri-level" dominating the American Midwest, these homes were the peak of mid-century efficiency. Now, they’re the peak of renovation headaches.
When you start looking at a split level house renovation before and after, you aren't just looking at new paint. You're looking at a structural puzzle. People buy these homes because they’re often the most affordable entry point into a good neighborhood, but the "after" photo usually requires more than a weekend at Home Depot. It’s about flow. Or, more accurately, the complete lack of it.
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The foyer problem and why it’s a nightmare
Walk into a standard 1960s split-entry. What do you see? A tiny landing. Two doors. Two sets of stairs. If you have three people entering the house at once, someone is getting hit by the door. It’s cramped.
Most successful renovations start right here. You’ve basically got two options. You can bump out the front of the house to create a "mudroom" addition, which is expensive but life-changing. Or, you can play with the railings. Replacing those old, heavy wooden spindles with glass panels or thin horizontal cable rails does wonders. It doesn't add square footage, but it stops the house from feeling like a basement with delusions of grandeur.
Opening the main floor: It isn't just about knocking down walls
Everyone wants an open concept. They see a split level house renovation before and after on Instagram and think, "I'll just rip out that kitchen wall."
Wait.
In a lot of these homes, that wall between the kitchen and the living room is holding up your roof. It’s load-bearing. To get that seamless look, you’re looking at installing a recessed LVL (Laminated Veneer Lumber) beam. This is where the budget starts to sweat. According to contractors like those featured on Renovate Me, a structural beam can add $5,000 to $15,000 to your bill just for the engineering and steel.
But once it’s done? It’s a different house.
Instead of a dark, galley kitchen where you're trapped while the family watches TV ten feet away, you get a "Great Room." Pro tip: If you're opening the wall, take the cabinets all the way to the ceiling. Split-levels often have 8-foot ceilings, which can feel low. Vertical lines help.
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Dealing with the "Lower Level" funk
The lower level of a split is neither a basement nor a ground floor. It’s usually halfway in the dirt. This means moisture.
If you’re doing a renovation, don’t just throw carpet over the old concrete. You’ll regret it in three years when it smells like a damp gym bag. Use Luxury Vinyl Plank (LVP). It’s waterproof, it looks like wood, and it handles the temperature swings of a semi-underground room.
I’ve seen incredible "afters" where the lower level becomes the primary suite. Because these homes often have three tiny bedrooms upstairs, moving the master bedroom to the lower level—assuming you have large enough windows for "egress" (emergency exit requirements)—gives you a massive, private sanctuary. Just make sure you check the local building codes. In many states, a room isn't legally a bedroom unless the window is a certain size and height from the floor.
The Exterior: Curb appeal or curb "appalled"?
The outside of a split-level is often... lopsided. You have a big two-story block on one side and a one-story block on the other.
The trick to a modern exterior is balance. Use "mixed materials."
- Hardie board siding on the main body.
- Natural wood accents (like cedar or faux-cedar) on the entryway.
- Dark window frames.
Changing the windows is the single most effective way to modernize. The original windows were often small and high up. If you can afford to cut into the structure and drop the window sills lower, do it. Large windows on the "upper" side of the split break up that massive wall of siding and let in light that these houses desperately need.
The budget reality check
Let’s talk numbers. Real numbers.
A "surface-level" renovation—paint, new floors, maybe some cheap cabinets—will run you $40,000 to $60,000.
A "gut" split level house renovation before and after that includes structural changes, a new kitchen, and updated bathrooms? You’re looking at $150,000 to $300,000 depending on your zip code.
Is it worth it?
Well, if you bought the house for $350k and the renovated ones in the area are selling for $650k, the math works. If you're in an area where prices are stagnant, you might be over-improving.
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One thing people forget: The HVAC. Split levels are notoriously hard to heat and cool evenly. Heat rises, so the top floor is a furnace in the summer, and the bottom floor is a fridge in the winter. When you renovate, look into "zoning" your HVAC system or adding a mini-split heat pump to the lower level. It’s not sexy like a marble countertop, but you’ll be glad you did it when it’s -10 degrees outside.
Hidden gems: The garage conversion
Sometimes the garage in a split-level is tucked under the main living area. This is a goldmine. If you don't mind parking in the driveway, converting that garage into a family room or a massive kitchen can double the "usable" feel of the house.
I once saw a project in Portland where they turned the under-house garage into a sunken dining room with a concrete floor and a huge glass garage door that opened to the backyard. It was incredible. It took the house from "boring 70s box" to "architectural masterpiece."
But—and this is a big but—you have to figure out where the cars go. In some climates, losing a garage is a death sentence for resale value.
Common pitfalls to avoid
Don't over-light the ceiling. People get excited about recessed lighting and turn their ceiling into Swiss cheese. Use layers. Sconces, pendants over the island, and lamps.
Don't ignore the stairs. The stairs are the spine of the house. If you leave the old carpeted stairs with the creaky treads, the whole renovation feels unfinished. Sand them down. Paint the risers white and stain the treads to match your new floors. It ties the levels together.
Don't skimp on insulation. While the walls are open, blow in as much insulation as possible. Split levels were built in an era when energy was cheap and nobody cared about R-values.
Moving forward with your project
If you're staring at your dated split-level and wondering where to start, stop looking at Pinterest for a second. Get a structural engineer over.
Pay them for two hours of their time.
Ask them: "Which of these walls can I kill?" Once you know what’s holding the house up, you can actually design a space that works.
- Audit the flow. Walk through the house with a roll of blue painter's tape. Mark out where a new kitchen island would go. If you can't walk around it without hitting a wall, your plan is too big.
- Consult a realtor. Ask them what "after" features are actually moving houses in your specific neighborhood. Is it a fourth bedroom? Or a massive kitchen?
- Address the mechanicals. Check your electrical panel. If it’s an original Federal Pacific or Zinsco panel, it’s a fire hazard and needs to be replaced before you do anything else.
- Think about the landscaping. A split-level looks more "grounded" if you use tiered plantings. It softens the height difference between the two sides of the house.
Renovating a split-level is an exercise in patience. You are fighting the original designer's intent to keep everything compartmentalized. But the bones are usually solid. These houses were built to last, even if they weren't built to be "pretty." With the right plan, you can turn that awkward teenager into the coolest house on the block.