The Architecture Of A Very Small Life
“Find those cracks in time where dirt, fear, passion, event have entered to disturb the idealised, static, perfection of that space’s concept.”
-Sarah Wigglesworth
When suddenly thrown into working and living in a home with the total floor plan of 18m^2, I was forced to hold a magnifying glass up to my own design and meticulously scrutinise the choices I had made when building my little home.
This exercise of unpicking what a space really needs to be was really interesting, and it was a privilege to be able to spend the time, considering these questions. How much space do you really need in a kitchen? What materials feel nice to be around? What elements of our everyday life can be done away with, when space is a constricting factor? Something I quickly came to realise, which I hadn’t considered before was how the design stage of a building can so drastically govern how the occupant will live. This is where building my own home was a blessing, I knew how I wanted to live and work in the space, and those decisions were thought through carefully. However, how can one really know what it is like to live in a space, without living in it? No matter how many drawings, and digital renderings one does, you can’t really know the feel of a space, until life happens within it.
It is raining outside, you have computer work to do, you can’t travel to a nice cafe or office, and you are forced into working at home. But you’re home is tiny. What feeling do you get when you sit in a very small space, for the entire day? This is a question I quickly learnt the answer to. I personally, in this space, which has been designed for me, by me, feel wonderful. I sat there working away, thinking “why do I not feel trapped, claustrophobic and stressed, like I thought I might? Why do I feel calm, and like I have everything I need right here?”
I didn’t have the answer to that question right away, and I wanted to find out what it was. Without tooting my own horn too much, how had I managed to create a space that I have such a positive reaction to being in? Is it about changing the mindset of what it means to be a ‘homeowner’ that our society has drilled into us? Is it about realising you don’t need as much space, or possessions to feel happy and fulfilled? Or it is purely just that I had built it, with my community of family and friends, and that connection, is all I need. It could be a dingy, dark, shed, but if I built it, it would make me happy.
There is not doubt that living in a building made with natural materials is good for you, it’s been widely documented and to me, it’s a no-brainer. Why would you live in a concrete square, when you could live in a beautiful timber home? This is obviously, not everyone’s cup of tea, and that’s where design is so personal and individual. It makes me so sad that not everyone can have the chance to design and build a space that would truly make them happy, it is something I wish was accessible for everyone. For me, I knew being around timber made me feel good, end of, there's nothing more to say about it. I work with it nearly everyday, so naturally for me, I wanted to live in a structure made of it. Having exposed timber inside the home; the worktops in the kitchen, the cupboards, the stairs, every shelf, drawer and coat hook give this earthy, warm feeling to the home that you just can’t replicate with manmade materials. This was one the first things I quickly realised was a huge success in my house, and in fact, there isn’t enough wood! Some areas of the walls that are painted white, in an attempt to lighten the space, I wish we had clad in more wood. It is a compromise, having a light and airy space is really important, but the warmth and homely feeling of wood has its own qualities. Striking that balance, was key.
The other thing I noticed were the windows (despite being single glazed and terrible, one major design flaw, I never said it was perfect…). There is a good balance of large windows that let a lot of light in, and large areas of wall, which allow storage, and decoration. Traditionally, you would consider the orientation of a building, when designing where to place the windows. When you’re building a house on wheels, this isn’t a factor. Any place you live in your home would have a completely different feel, depending on the location, surrounding landscape, and where the light would enter the house. This is part of the fun of a home on wheels. Here, I am lucky that the gentle morning light comes in through my bedroom window, my kitchen is lit by the nice soft afternoon light and the beautiful early evening sunset beams in through the front window and door, hitting the sofa. This no doubt will change when I move the house next, and it could completely transform the space, we’ll see.
Being close to nature is a key aspect of my life that makes me incredibly happy. Again, I think this is a given, and seems almost pointless to say. But when it comes to the space we occupy, it is often an afterthought. Again, this is a positive of having a home that moves, you can put it within an environment that pleases you, and move it, if it doesn’t. There is an Ash tree that has grown near my house since living here, it’s enveloped the corner where my kitchen sits, and to some this might have caused annoyance and been trimmed back, but I love it. The leaves flutter in my view as I’m washing up at the sink, and it’s branches tap on my bedroom window upstairs. It feels like I’m living in the middle of a woodland, and for me, that is a wonderful feeling.
Making the space work for me
While having time to sit and reflect on the space, and what changes I could make to allow a new way of life to happen here, there were a few things that were blindingly obvious. I needed a chair, so that I could transform the end of the kitchen into a desk, I needed more shelving for my bowls to dry, I needed a shoe rack. These little things, that I hadn’t considered to be important aspects in the home, suddenly were.
I was able to spend the time making these things that I really needed. I couldn’t go out and buy a shoe rack, and I had the skills and resources to make one, so I did. I have done this with nearly every aspect of my home, I’ve sat in it, and thought about what I really needed, went away, and then made that thing. Yes, it has sometimes ended with me shouting profanities at a shelf because I can’t screw it into the wall, but again, I never said it was perfect.
“Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.”
- William Morris
It has also ended with my house being full of things I need, and only that, things that are functional, beautiful and useful, and mostly, made by me. Maybe that’s all it is, that answer as to why this space feels so nice to be in, purely because I have poured my heart and soul and skill into every corner of it. It is hard to analyse the design of a space, when you have such a close connection to it, so maybe I am the wrong person to be asking these questions.
