Anne-apolis

  I have recently been house-sitting in a home that is very different from my own in many ways, yet being there is a real delight. This leads me to ponder what it is that makes for the atmosphere that is deeply satisfying, yet is completely different from my own home. The first thing I notice on arrival, is the multiplicity of pot plants at the entrance - rich and varied in scale and texture, from cacti and succulents to frangipani and hibiscus. Beside the door are some wind chimes, made of thin slices of decorative stone that give a very subtle background of sound, less obtrusive than the more common metal ones. The entrance hall is huge - setting the scale for the interconnected spaces of dining, living room and music room, all just visible from the entrance door giving a sense of the flow of space. Light floods into this entrance space from a skylight above the wooden staircase - natural wood is the predominant material here, for all of the furniture as well as the balustrade an...

  Since I was an undergrad architectural student, I have always been fascinated by the concept of invisible design - where the result fits so perfectly in its setting that it looks invisible or timeless. This was almost certainly inspired by a house that my dad designed, that I have always regarded as his masterpiece. His client was a botanical artist and the site was very heavily vegetated. The plan tried to minimise the loss of any trees and large shrubs, and Anita Fabian spent many hours on site in the initial weeks, carefully transplanting the smaller flowers away from the house footprint. The finally completed house, with its low lines and natural materials, was completely invisible from all viewpoints, concealed by the dense vegetation, and meeting the clients' brief exactly.  I have used this philosophy in my heritage work, in particular at the village of Rhodes in the Eastern Cape, aiming for a very modest interpretation of the Victorian architecture for the new house...

  I have always been a fan of recycling - giving new life to old things and finding new uses for what would otherwise end up in landfill. This goes back to childhood. I remember very vividly my dad bringing home old Bills of Quantities - lengthy documents printed single-sided with the blank reverse side perfect for all of my sketching practice and other drawing projects. In the 1960s and 70s, repairing things was very much part of life, whether mending clothing or other items. At my (very upmarket) high school, we had a toy workshop, where we collected and mended broken toys which were then given to the charities we supported. In my teenage years, my brother and his friends would buy up old sports cars and spend every spare hour coaxing them back to life, including some quite sophisticated repainting. This attitude seems to have very deep roots going back to probably prehistoric times, and not just bred from scarcity or poverty. I remember reading in a Jane Austen novel, how the ...

 I have recently come back from a holiday in the UK, staying with my sister and brother-in-law in Buckinghamshire. They live in a 1930s house that has had several alterations and additions over its lifespan, one of which was the removal of the fireplace in the front bedroom. One of their neighbours, in an identical house, is in the process of a major renovation, which included the removal of the upstairs cast-iron fireplace, which my sister rescued from their skip waste. The rescued fireplace in its original condition Although there was a legacy of many layers of paint, now in a sorry state, the only serious damage was to the left lower corner, and the cast-iron mantlepiece was beyond salvage. The first task was to clean off many generations of soot and spiderwebs, before starting the major work of removing all the old paint. In any restoration project, the preparation is the most important stage of the work, however tedious and unrewarding it may seem when doing it. Here, I had th...

  As a child, I had firmly ingrained into my head that "special things" were only for use when guests came, and the status of the guest would influence the degree to which this was applied. This thinking has lived with me all my life, despite innate resistance. Why should one's most valued things live at the back of a cupboard and only emerge a couple of times a year, or even less often - surely we should be celebrating these as a way of elevating every day? I can understand the logic - the more often something is used, the more likely it will get damaged or broken - but the converse is what I am pondering today. If something can give you joy each and every day, surely this is worth the investment of having something a bit more valuable? This mug is a case in point: it was a gift, and the image is taken from one of my favourite buildings, the Art Museum in Milwaukee, designed by Santiago Calatrava. As an example of graphic design, it is a masterpiece, but it scores well o...

  Humans appear to be naturally attracted to bilateral, or axial, symmetry, usually used in the floor plan to structure the main movement route, and on the entrance facade. Perhaps the inspiration for symmetry in buildings is an idealised conception of the human body, although if this were the case, one wonders why the depiction of humans in these cultures, in painting and sculpture, often show the body in movement, rather than the static face-on view or pose, as can be seen in the very energetic sculptures of the Parthenon. Reconstruction of the Parthenon from Ancient Greece Creative Commons licensed:  https://www.rawpixel.com/image/431804/columns-greece In Ancient China, the same dichotomy appears - in the example of the Forbidden City in Beijing the entire complex has all the major buildings lined up on a single axis, which takes on even more meaning, as only the emperor was permitted to walk on this central path. The narrow stairs on either side are for everyone else. Hall...

  Repetition can be one of the most boring aspects of architecture, especially where one finds whole districts of the same design and the same treatment for each unit within these identical buildings. Some of the housing estates built in the UK and USA in the mid to late twentieth centuries are sad examples, the most notorious of which was Pruitt-Igoe in St Louis, which was imploded just 21 years after it was built, because it had degenerated into a slum. Its fate was attributed mainly to the bland and repetitive environment that had been created in this housing estate, lacking in interest and identity. Pruitt-Igoe before demolition Creative Commons licensed:  https://www.facebook.com/STLPRS/photos/the-pruitt-igoe-housing-complex-located-along-cass-avenue-north-st-louis-consist/1287418993419959/ But repetition has not always had this reputation - in many ancient cultures around the world, it has been used as the highpoint of architectural expression, often reserved to express ...

  I am a very monochromatic person, not just in my decor, but even in most of my wardrobe, where shades of grey and brown predominate. This said, I admire people who branch out into a more colourful palette in their environment, as a much bolder choice. Browns and greys are "safe" colours, especially if these reflect the natural colour of the material, such as wood, stone, metal or clay. However, while these may have a very calming effect for most of us, some people feel that such spaces are boring or even oppressive. My monochromatic world, even through to the throw and cushions When designing for other people, I will often branch out into the world of colour, sometimes even quite vibrant, if the mood of the space demands. Working with a broad range of colours is quite difficult, and needs plenty of planning to get a good balance. But what if one is looking for some middle-ground between the "boring" of greys and browns and the hectic (sometimes even chaotic) effec...

  Of all the household DIY tasks, painting walls and ceilings must be the easiest and most rewarding, providing you follow some simple (but perhaps tedious) preparation work to achieve a professional finish. Before you begin, have a close look at the surfaces you are planning to paint - look at them from both sides and not just "flat-on", as some of the problems are only visible when seen obliquely. Are there any holes, cracks, or areas of peeling or bubbling paint? Before you go out to buy materials, use a paint scraper, putty knife or an old kitchen knife to see how extensive the problem is. If there are cracks wider than 1cm, it may be worth monitoring the crack for a few months - at the widest part of the crack, draw a pencil line on the wall with a ruler and make a note of the crack width. Measure the gap every two weeks and keep a record. If it varies or is getting bigger, it would be a good idea to call in a structural engineer before painting as you may be covering up...

  Last week I was walking with a friend at Emmarentia Dam. The weather was idyllic for late summer, with not a whisper of wind, allowing a perfect reflection of the trees and sky in the water. This set me thinking, what is it in nature that gives us this sense of immense calm, and what can we learn from this as designers? The most obvious parallel in architecture is in the use of reflecting pools, which  have been used by some of the best-known modernists, including le Corbusier and Mies van der Rohe, often creating a contrast between the asymmetrical composition of the building volumes and the symmetry of the reflection. Barcelona Pavilion by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe Creative Commons Licensed:  https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Barcelona_Pavilion_pool.JPG . This technique is used extensively by Oscar Niemeyer in Brasilia, enlivening the bold volumes and strikingly sculptural concrete structural elements. This adds to the drama of the asymmetrical forms and the play...

  Having spent the first 21 years of my life in a house that was designed by my parents, I have a special interest in the houses that architects design for themselves. Our home started off as a tiny two-bedroom, but had a quite large open-plan living and dining area and a huge kitchen, in anticipation of the house it would grow into. Every four or five years, the builders sand and piles of bricks would arrive, and we would know that the next phase was about to begin.  This incremental approach is one that I have seen many times, partly because architects invariably have dreams far larger than their wallets! On the other hand, one finds some architects designing a manifesto rather than a home - as I discovered in my first year as an architectural student. We were taken to the house of one of the iconic names of the Modern Movement in South Africa, one which remains very much in its original form from its construction in 1942. House Martienssen at the time of completion (South A...