In today’s post, the first one about the prototype, I delve into the study of environments like porches, decks, and Engawa, which serve as connectors between the outside and inside of homes.
Why did I decide to start here, with the study for my prototype?
The main reason I chose to begin with this topic is my profound inspiration for spaces like these. I love exploring them in homes from various cultures due to their hybrid and spontaneous nature. Observing their design and usage in different parts of the world fascinates me. Feeling inspired was crucial to starting this journey with an open mind, a font of energy for my daily job as an architect.
Furthermore, it appears that these environments are significant for my prototype, as they relate to a cabin by the lake with a stunning view. A well-designed deck would be the perfect place to admire this view (read more about the story of the prototype). I believe this aspect can be quite interesting for readers.
Lastly, what better environment to study during the summer season than when I can utilize my small porch to experience firsthand what’s happening outside?
Connection and balance
Let’s delve into the fundamental theme: connection and balance. What truly distinguishes these spaces and makes them indispensable in a home, in my opinion, is their hybrid nature. They exist neither entirely outside nor fully inside. They are not quite “home” but also not purely garden. They serve as a bridge connecting humans and nature, artificial and natural, rules and instincts. This aspect is profoundly stimulating for those of us who inhabit them, as it contributes to our personal equilibrium.
Another crucial aspect is that, owing to their hybrid nature, these spaces are in constant flux throughout the day and the seasons. They also influence indoor spaces. It’s as if, through them, the influence of nature and the Earth on humans seeps inside the house to some extent. Additionally, thanks to their versatility in how they can be used throughout the year, they can alter how we live within our homes according to the seasons. Achieving this becomes much more challenging if, for instance, we reside in an environment with only unopenable windows. This could be seen as an issue if we desire a consistent indoor environment throughout the seasons. However, it becomes something magical if we yearn to feel part of something grander.
Nature and humans
A small yard, a wall behind, rocks and wood.
How can our connection with nature impact our daily life at home?
Humans and their homes are already integrated into nature. However, we can choose to enhance or restrict our connection to other elements. Striking the right balance between the natural sense of protection we seek at home and the freedom we cherish in nature is crucial. This natural balance that humans have always sought can also be found in Feng Shui. We can make our decks more or less accessible to the spontaneous aspects of nature, determining the balance between human energies prevailing inside the house and environmental energies dominating outside. In decks, perhaps we can lean a bit more toward freedom while always seeking subtle strategies to help us maintain this balance.
One of the most noticeable factors with a significant impact is the choice of materials. It’s quite evident how the use of wood and stone, even just in certain areas such as the flooring, can clearly establish an open connection with the outside, as opposed to concrete tiles or an iron railing. This occurs because these materials weather and change over time. They are naturally designed to undergo these changes, so if we accept it, they require less maintenance. Moreover, they feel familiar; the grass knows how to grow around them. To what is familiar with natural materials, like grass, bugs, seeds, there’s little difference, and no artificial barriers are created. They enter, pass through, the environment. Natural and spontaneous elements have no qualms about doing the same in our presence.
We can also focus on the elements connecting the deck to the ground. Steps are not always necessary for descent. Stones and logs can serve as a kind of gateway to the outside, recognizing in these materials a sense of “familiarity” and an invitation. Perhaps even allowing some small insects to climb up. I believe that in a deck this should be permissible. Let’s make the most of this hybrid space to maintain a physical channel of communication.
And let’s ask ourselves: how much do we want to be influenced by external weather conditions, whether it’s rain, sun, or wind? Depending on this, we can adjust the overhang of the covering, possibly allowing us to enjoy the deck even when it’s raining, listening to the comforting sound above us, or providing shade from the scorching summer sun while allowing light to enter during the winter or permitting us to lie outside to admire the sky when possible (if the slope of the external covering is too high, it can excessively heat up the rooms during the summer, while if it’s too low, it fails to let light penetrate during the winter). The use of these spaces varies greatly depending on latitude, but certainly, having the option to use them in all seasons is something to consider.
Again on protection and opening
How does it feel to stay suspended?
Pleasantly immersed in the nature or overly exposed?
Even though we seek this connection, we usually find suspended decks. This is an effective way to feel deeply protected and safe because the channel of communication exists but is limited to a precise point. For the rest, being able to look down on the surrounding terrain makes us feel secure and somewhat dominant over our surroundings. But beware, how does our sense of security change if the deck is firmly supported on the ground or if it is cantilevered and suspended, with vegetation or gravel passing underneath it? I can sit on it with my legs dangling; on one hand, I feel close, part of the landscape, but on the other, I feel exposed. It’s as if the delicacy of my attempt at communication, not firmly anchored to the ground, exposes me to some additional risk. (How many times, as children, did we check under the bed before sleeping?)
However, there are other, less obvious choices that have a deeper impact because they are less apparent. Take, for example, the railing of the deck, which is the main element that protects us from falling down. It looks very different from this perspective if we build it in masonry, have it open in wood, or use glass. In the first case, perhaps we are seeking a clear separation, while in the second, we aim to leave an opening, perhaps for a tree branch to intrude onto my floor. But what about the third case? Maybe we want to “see” outside but not necessarily communicate? Like a one-way dialogue?
Once more, what can be the outcome in our pursuit of communication when we illuminate the trees that would otherwise appear dark and menacing? I perceive it as a respectful, if delicate and subtle, attempt to uncover something deeper, and perhaps it’s also a means of better understanding the darkness within us. And what happen when, as seen in Japanese gardens, the pathways that pass through external elements connecting one building to another, almost like a children’s game? In our cabin by the lake, it would also be wonderful to have a secure walkway that descends, elevated, toward the lake, with supports on the ground where spontaneous vegetation can occasionally climb.
Indoors
What elements contribute to the fluidity of space, and why do we seek continuity between the interior and exterior of our homes?
Equally important is deciding the level of continuity we desire between the deck and the indoor spaces.
My porch, for example (my house was built in 1952), has two French doors for access, one from the kitchen and one from the living room, but both are narrow and not very suitable for enjoying the view of the porch and the garden outside. Nowadays, it’s common to find very large French doors. In this case too, it always seems useful to find a balance so that excessive dimensions do not become a problem rather than a solution: privacy, room for furniture, and sun regulation. To enhance this continuity, you can further emphasize it by ensuring that the indoor and outdoor floors are at the same level and paved with the same material.
Look at the black and white room: here I see a unified space. And not just when the French doors are open. It’s due to the fact that the flooring is the same, continuing seamlessly between indoors and outdoors, but the same applies to the ceiling, which maintains the same height. To my eyes, this creates an entirely different effect compared to the colored room. It’s not just about having glass; it’s about having the same volume, the space that must be unified, albeit separated by a full-height enclosure. In this case too, it’s up to us to decide where to stop in terms of this aspect and the sensations we want to experience in both winter and summer when all the windows are open.
Lastly, think about how we want to arrange indoor furniture in relation to the outdoor view and if we want to somehow obscure these exits because seeing outside while watching a werewolf movie might not always be what we need (especially during the full moon). Discussing this topic, I’m reminded of another theme: how we use indoor spaces differently depending on how the deck is used in different seasons. Think about summer: if we have several rooms overlooking the outside, as is the case with engawa, we can see it as an additional outdoor corridor that allows us to move from one room to another, enjoying a breath of fresh air or transporting something bulky. In winter, however, we can view our deck as an extra space to shelter when returning from a walk, especially if the indoor spaces are small and not well organized. And if the external space has elements to close it during winter, it can become a filter for low temperatures which, thanks to the sunlight, can accumulate warmth and make interior rooms more comfortable. It’s a great way to bring the Earth’s strength into our home according to the seasons, and this can have an incredible effect on our daily life.
Going deeper
As I delved into this topic and crafted this post, I’ve come to realize the boundless nature of discussions around such themes. This realization is particularly profound because everything discussed so far has yet to consider a fundamental element: the people who will inhabit the prototype cabin, each with their unique characters and values. Today is September 25, and I find myself writing in the company of my cats. Autumn began just a few days ago, and I already find myself immersed in its wonderful mood. To me, autumn feels like a return home, a journey back to myself and my own sanctuary. It’s a rediscovery of the inner space and time within me, where deeper, more authentic aspects reside. I reconnect with these aspects and bring them to life. I aspire to embrace and experience them fully, making time for their expression. Autumn, with its intentional use of time, is the perfect season for this pursuit. And this process resonates deeply with the art of home design.
The next step with my prototype will be about this, and I am looking forward to starting.
thank you for being here,
Laura
A few small disclaimers: The goal of my prototype is to rediscover my voice in home design with freedom and inspiration. All the considerations presented here are always and only my opinion and do not aim to become a general rule; quite the opposite. I hope to revisit and change them myself when necessary. The post’s purpose is not to design the cabin’s deck but to freely reflect on the determining elements for such an environment. I do not rule out changing my mind in the future and eventually starting the actual design phase. My sketches are taken from various images saved on Pinterest. Here you can find the board with these and other pictures I hope can inspire you as they have inspired me.
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I would be very grateful.
Thank you