Posts Tagged Homes
Hungry for design? Take a seat at the London design festival
Posted by The Sheet in Architecture News on September 14, 2011
From bizarre banquets to a Lego greenhouse, there's more to the capital's design event than chairs. Here are some highlights
If the words "design festival" bring to mind a big room full of 8,000 different types of chair, things have moved on. Having decided eight years ago that design needed to get out more – out of the showrooms and out of its obsession with chairs – the London design festival is now more of a city-wide cultural event, exploiting the virtual boundlessness of its stated subject. There's too much to keep track of, 300 events over the next nine days, so here are some highlights.
Marcel Wanders
If you're after some design celebrity, look no further than Wanders, the Dutch designer who's as charming as he is protean. He's the designer you'd want to be: he's fashionably refashioned every conceivable household object, and boutique hotels are queuing up for his Midas touch. He leads this year's programme of festival breakfast talks, and he'll also be found at the Galeria Illy, alongside the likes of Marina Abramovic, Martin Parr, Ross Lovegrove and David Adjaye. Meanwhile you'll find a submerged Moooi showroom, complete with Wanders's mermaids, at Tom Dixon's Dock.
Perspectives: St Paul's Cathedral
How does master of minimalism John Pawson respond to the baroque majesty of St Paul's Cathedral? By showing people what is already there, he says. His intervention is in the Geometric Staircase, a spiralling stone space not usually open to the public. By putting a gigantic lens at the bottom and a gigantic convex mirror at the top, Pawson enables visitors to take in more than the unaided eye ever could, and appreciate Wren's engineering genius anew.
Textile Field
The V&A is a key venue for the festival, as signified by the spiralling wooden lattice temporarily installed at the Cromwell Road entrance, courtesy of AL_A, Amanda Levete Architects. Special exhibitions, events and installations are going on throughout the building but one highlight has to be Textile Field, by French stars Ronan and Erwan Bouroullec. They've taken over the V&A's Raphael gallery, and installed a giant undulating carpet of bright colours. The purpose is not just to transform the space but to give visitors a new perspective from which to appreciate Raphael's works. How selfless.
Secret Sensory Suppers
The fabulous Masonic Temple at the Andaz hotel is a novel design venue, and it's inspired three teams to reinvent the art of feasting in this design event for all the senses. First up, virtuoso jellymongers Bompas & Parr serve up an appropriately occultish feast to accompany a screening of Jodorowsky's psychedelic brainmelter The Holy Mountain. A processional ice phallus is promised. Food blogger Caroline Hobkinson dispenses with conventional eating implements, and sound sculptors Silent Studio promise a sonically enhanced banquet.
Noma Bar: Cut It Out
Genius illustrator and regular Guardian contributor Noma Bar presents a one-man show of his distinctive figure-ground works, and gives you the chance to create your own, thanks to a bespoke cut-out machine in the shape of a giant dog. Visitors can feed it all manner of materials – paper, rubber, etc.
Lego Greenhouse
It's exactly what it says, but still sounds intriguing doesn't it? This is the brainchild of inventive young Brit Sebastian Bergne, who's installed the greenhouse in the piazza of Covent Garden. There's no cheating: it's a fully functioning structure made of nothing but Lego, with real plants inside. At night, lit from within, it will look even more remarkable, he promises.
Made By Britain: Vitsoe
Let's see if George Osborne's championing of British design makes a difference, but the manufacturers of Dieter Rams's timeless 606 shelving system are the first to receive the official stamp of approval. Vitsoe still makes 95% of its components in Britain, and its healthy exports are just what the nation needs. Vitsoe celebrates its heritage with a special installation at its West End store. Look out for future British design talent at the V&A's British-ish exhibition.
100% Design
If all you're really after is a nice new chair, this is the place you're most likely to find it. It's also where you're most likely to feel like you're in a "proper" design festival, Milan-style, as 400 leading designers and manufacturers pack out Earl's Court with their latest wares. On the chair front, look out for new designs by architect David Chipperfield, Barber Osgerby and Lloyd Pearson. Or for a more relaxed design fair, try the Tramshed.
Interiors: Thank you, Marlene Dietrich | Berlin
Posted by The Sheet in Architecture News on March 19, 2011
If it weren't for the German actress, this iconic Berlin apartment may never have existed. Today, it's a designer pad in one of the city's best spots
Some big names were involved in making Peter Schlesselmann's one-bedroom flat in Tiergarten, Berlin's most famous park. Walter Gropius, the granddaddy of Bauhaus, designed it. And five years ago, Gisbert Pöppler, one of Germany's most talented young architects, reconfigured it.
But if it weren't for Marlene Dietrich, it might never have been built at all. For more than a decade after the second world war, Berlin was in ruins and an ambitious plan was hatched: to rebuild the formerly grand Hansaviertel district, where the communist freedom fighter Rosa Luxemburg once lived, in über-modern style, and show off the results at the 1957 Interbau exhibition.
Around 50 top architects, Gropuis and Le Corbusier among them, agreed to work on the Hansaviertel. The only problem was money. Then a bright spark on the Berlin senate suggested giving the city's most famous daughter a call. Dietrich, though long exiled in the US, had never lost her love for Berlin and, tickled by the idea of an avant-garde enclave slap bang in the middle of her home town, agreed to help. In just two days she had hustled a seven-figure sum out of her admirers on Wall Street and the project was a goer.
Originally the flats were owned by the state and rented very cheaply to young families. But by the time Schlesselmann, a writer and film producer, bought his in 2006, they were almost exclusively owner-occupied – a relative rarity in Germany, where renting is far more common than buying. By British standards, it is not expensive. Schlesselmann does not want to reveal the price he paid, but a slightly larger flat in the Le Corbusier towerblock nearby is on the market for €160,000 (£136k).
Once he had exchanged contracts, he called in Pöppler, a Berlin-based architect with a reputation for designing modern, luxury living spaces using bright colours. Although he couldn't alter the listed exterior, he was free to do as he liked with the interior, a series of low-ceilinged rooms with a great set of windows facing north, east and south. "Peter gave me free rein," Pöppler says. "And when we started work, he didn't turn up once to see how it was going. Usually clients want to pop in every day, but he left me to it. It was enormous fun."
Schlesselmann had already agreed to Pöppler's bold plans, which included painting the main rooms in strident colours: a red kitchen, green study and turquoise-and-yellow bedroom, echoing the colours of the Pierre Vago towerblock opposite. The floor is blood-red linoleum.
Pöppler was determined not to design a pastiche of 1950s/60s style. "We didn't want just to put in a load of Arne Jacobsen furniture," he says. He wasn't daunted by the idea of tinkering around with a Gropius original? "Not one bit. It's actually a pretty banal building. It was supposed to be. And you shouldn't give the past too much merit." The Hansaviertel architects, in particular Gropius, believed in function over form, and had been given such limited budgets that anything fancy was out of the question.
The only structural change to the flat was knocking out an interior wall, which opened up the kitchen into the living room to let in more light. Pöppler describes the project as "absolutely low budget. Apart from the bespoke kitchen, which was not cheap, we mostly used basic materials. The tiles in the bathroom came from a builder's merchant." The whole lot came in at "under €40,000 (£34k)", he says – but that figure does not include some pretty classy furniture.
In the living room is a decadent purple chaise from Neue Wiener Werkstätte , an Austrian design firm. A blue floor lamp is by UK design duo Edward Barber & Jay Osgerby. The dining table is by Eero Saarinen, and above it hangs a wonderful porcelain "Blossom" lamp by New Zealand designer, Jeremy Cole, which has such delicate china leaves that Schlesselman was terrified of breaking it. "I am never moving house with that again," he says. Pöppler himself made the tall porcelain cupboard in the living room (pictured, above on right).
What really makes the flat unusual, though, apart from its heritage, is its location. Berlin is not blessed with many green spaces, so to live in its largest park is a treat indeed. It might even have suited Marlene herself.
Interiors: The new bling
Posted by The Sheet in Architecture News on January 29, 2011
In a world far removed from cuts or recession, the super rich are spending like never before – investing their millions in mansions and art
'I don't think there is a higher end," says John Lees of his work as architect to the super rich. A distinction must be made, he says, between the merely vulgarly rich (ie, footballers of the Cheshire belt or the mere-millionaires of The Bishops Avenue) and the world of obscene wealth that Lees inhabits. He creates homes for the Russian oligarchs and Chinese business moguls who run the global economy and who continue to inhabit a land untouched by cuts and recession. In fact, their extreme wealth is buoying the fine-art market: Andy Warhol's Coke Bottle sold for a record $35m in New York in November, the same month a Chinese vase sold in London for an unprecedented £48m to a Chinese businessman. Sources in the art and property markets say these billionaires are currently spending "without restraint".
In response, developers in London are creating a new crop of luxury homes, dripping with original Picassos and swimming pools, to cater for this profligate class, including a vast development in Cornwall Terrace being sold for £29m upwards.
Likewise for Lees, business is booming. "Our big-scale jobs are £40m-£125m," he says. "I work for private individuals and I'll be doing their country house, their London house, one in Hong Kong and another in, say, the south of France. We recently did a dacha outside Moscow for £174m, for someone who entertains Putin."
Which makes it all the stranger that Lees is sitting in the scruffy offices of Lees Associates, near Borough Market in south London. The stairs are rough concrete, the shelves dusty, but the computer screens rotate with virtual tours of excessive luxury. "On our current job, the accessories budget is £2m," he says. "That's teaspoons, glasses, plates. Towels and linen is a separate budget. Each bed costs £20,000. We are a very specialised market at the very highest end."
So what does an oligarch require in his home? Not the classic markers, such as banks of TVs ("We put some televisions in, but we hide them"), gold-plated taps or swimming pools shaped like a shell. Wealth at the hard-to-imagine end of the spectrum is "subtle". Creating a truly, deeply wealthy home becomes more about rarity and materials: imported stone, works of art, grand pianos and libraries.
At Cornwall Terrace, Lansdowne's development of eight mansions, two show homes have just reached the market, luring the super rich with original Francis Bacons, Murano glassware and furniture from Portofino. Everything is bespoke: the paints specially mixed; the hardback books handpicked.
Lees is similarly aware of the hunger for provenance. "At that level, your bathrooms will be made of heated, solid stone carved in Brac, an island off the coast of Split in Croatia, which produces a particularly white limestone."
A spokesman for Knight Frank, an agent operating at the top end of the market, says the super rich "have moved their money away from bank deposits and stock markets into alternative investments such as luxury property and art. It is increasingly normal for Christie's to deliver a painting to a potential buyer's house so the owner can see it on the walls."
These gliding swans of houses, occupying only the best London addresses, have layer upon layer of service floors from the basement down. The traditional family kitchen might be above ground, for coffee or a snack, but below ground there are catering kitchens with a dozen chefs ready to entertain a party of 100. Lees says these subterranean floors "contain all sorts of service departments, catering kitchens, gymnasiums, collections of cars. We've made swimming pools where the floors come up to become ballrooms. There's no noise in the pools and no smell of chlorine. We have projected dolphins on to gymnasium walls – hologram images behind glass. We put a bowling alley in one house." Bathrooms have become the most expensive rooms, he says, with their requisite body jet showers, warmed toilet seats and timed bathwater heaters that maintain supply at a specific temperature.
But wealth and power create problems of their own. A house full of staff means no privacy. Owning homes all over the world means a fragmented family life. Lees is asked to, if not solve these problems, then at least mitigate them. "The family kitchen is incredibly important, because they all live dissociated lives. You want to find a home, don't you? The fundamental thing is the family."
Children have suites, dressing rooms and all the latest toys. And Lees adds "secrets" for the children to discover: a doll's house full of make-up or stepping stones in the garden that set off a fountain. "There is a sense of loneliness these children have, and that's a great shame."
Does he ever feel contaminated by these monuments to consumption? Or envious? Isn't it odd to return to life as a working London architect?
"Happiness isn't driven by anything you've got. It's inward. I'm not sure I want all those things myself. It's the sheer hard work in having them. They need these tools in order to play the public persona. I find it's bad enough having just one house."
Super rich must-haves
• Direct access from road to underground parking complex, with lift directly into the residence.
• James Bond-level security including CCTV, infrared scanners, panic room, bomb-proof garage doors, bomb-resistant lift and bulletproof windows.
• A home office complete with a communications system that would please a Royal Navy destroyer.
• A master suite the size of a one-bed flat with his-and-hers ensuites, walk-in dressing rooms, day rooms, exercise area and TV lounge.
• A subterranean basement containing bar, nightclub, hairdressing salon, gymnasium, sauna, spa, swimming pool and private 3D cinema (with seats that move with the movie).
• Staff quarters, separate from the main residence.
• A show kitchen above ground and a basement industrial kitchen that can cater for up to 300.
Interiors: Style council
Posted by The Sheet in Architecture News on October 8, 2010
The 1960s ex-council flat that's a shrine to 20th-century vintage
Kitchen "A carpenter friend made the kitchen using reclaimed wood, tea crates and fruit boxes," says Jane Petrie, a costume designer and co-owner of design store Shelf. "It's painted Sage Green (from the Little Greene Paint Company and the vinyl floor tiles are Cayenne from Tarkett – it's close to what would have been laid when the flats were built (Vylon Plus tiles, £6.99 a sq m). I made the blind with a kit from John Lewis and some vintage fabric found on sheilacook.co.uk." For similar, try Pottery fabric by Stig Lindberg, from retrohome.se, or Dandelion Clocks roller blind, from John Lewis (from £37). The chairs are from Castle Gibson and the table from Muji. The black pendant light is from MarMarCo and the red pendant from a Swedish charity shop. The 1970s bike light on the wall is from Atomic Antiques .
Kitchen shelf "The ceramic jars are vintage Portmeirion – try charity shops, or the Bucket Tree. I discovered the vintage Tupperware measuring cups and rack at a car boot sale (try US eBay). My spice jars are glass jars from an art shop (£1.13 each): I stuck the lids to the underside of the cupboard with No More Nails."
Sitting room "I bought the sofa for £50 off the film set of Is Anybody There? and the rocking chair is a long-term loan from a friend. The parquet flooring was here when I moved in 10 years ago, but it's not original." Find reclaimed parquet at salvage shops such as Lassco, from £35 a sq m. For a similar sofa, try Ercol's Studio Couch, or scour antiques markets such as the one at Kempton racecourse."
Hatch "This wasn't there when we moved in, but we wanted to open the place up so we got a builder in. I found the tree trunk lamp in a concession in Liberty about six years ago. The red bird and lion are vintage Swedish (try retrohome.se for similar). The alien-shaped object is a children's ceramic moneybox: SCP does great Moomin moneyboxes for kids."
Front door "The door and furniture are the original fittings. It's painted in Thundercloud from Sanderson (ref 44-12D, £16 a litre,). The letters are from Shelf; periodfeatures.net sells similar enamel numbers."
Interiors: My own private hidey hole
Posted by The Sheet in Architecture News on July 16, 2010
It's every dad's fantasy: a state-of-the-art studio at the bottom of the garden. John Crace explores one man's masterpiece
Is it a shed or is it a studio? "Good question," smiles artist Jaspar Joseph-Lester, sizing up the black, asymmetrical, cantilevered structure in the back garden of his east London semi. "I'm not sure. Some friends refer to it as the shed; I guess I'd rather call it my studio work space. But on more than one occasion during the winter, when there was no greenery to soften the design, it was described as a nuclear bunker."
Whatever it is, it's striking. With half the building below ground and with no two walls or windows the same, it's even bigger than it first appears. "The architects [the Latis Group] and I wanted to create a structure that maximised the work space while minimising the footprint, so it made sense to dig out the garden. But we also wanted a design that disorientated people, so you couldn't necessarily tell what was happening on the inside from the outside."
Compromise also played its part. The neighbours on both sides had been reasonably accommodating in the planning process – not least because they, too, had either already built a studio or were thinking about doing so. "There was – how shall I put it? – a certain synergy," he laughs. "No one raised any objections and they both claim to love the design." The real obstacle was Joseph-Lester's partner.
The studio was always planned as his work space, both for creating video installations and for writing, so his partner, film editor Mopsa Wolff, didn't get too much say in its design. "She didn't mind me using the dead space at the end of the garden," he says, "but she insisted both the fig trees had to stay. And that's really how the cantilevered upper storey came about, as you can't build within a certain distance of a tree because of the roots."
The project took about two years and went about £10K over the £20K budget, but Joseph-Lester reckons he still created a lot of space comparatively cheaply. So has it all worked out as intended? "The stairwell down to the door is steeper than we expected, so we'll probably have to put a grate over it to stop the kids falling down," he says. "And it sticks out a couple of feet further into the garden than we thought. You'd be amazed how important 2ft of garden can be in a relationship."
Inside the studio, things haven't entirely worked out either. "You can never be sure how you're going to use a building until you move in, and I'd imagined I'd use the upper floor for thinking and designing, and the ground floor for making things. But I enjoy the ground floor more, so that's where I spend most of my time. And although the building was deliberately designed without phone or internet access, they've somehow made their way in."
There are also unexpected pleasures, such as the worm's-eye view of the garden from the basement-level window, but the interior still looks unfinished. Again that's part accident, part design. "I always wanted the walls to be blank so I could use them as a projection screen, but there's still a load of snagging to do. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever get round to it. I haven't a clue what to do with the floor, so I might just leave it as concrete."
And how does he imagine the building in 10 years' time? "Almost certainly as a place that has been taken over by teenage children, from which I will be banned."
How to make a small flat feel larger
Posted by The Sheet in Architecture News on May 28, 2010
How do you make a small flat feel larger, a cheap kitchen look expensive or a radiator disappear? The designer of this bijou flat has the answers. By Anne-Celine Jaeger
Hallway/landing
Tip Hide your radiators. "Paint them the same colour as the wall so they're unobtrusive – if it's a colour other than white, it's more striking," says interior designer Gill Richardson. This deep wine is Pelt by Farrow & Ball, £25.50/2.5 litres.
Tip "Keep the same flooring throughout a space to make the area seem larger," Richardson says. This carpet is Sisal Panama in blue/silver, £37.50/sq m, from Tailored Flooring. The wallpaper is Woods 69/12148, £38/roll, from Cole & Son.
Living space
Tip Create zones. "The best way to enlarge a small space is to decide what activity will go on in the room and allocate separate space for it," says Richardson, who designed this two-bed, top-floor Georgian flat in Bristol. She has created a dining area at the end of the living room, with a built-in bench and display shelves, painted in Dulux's Hebridean Mist 4, £19.49 for 2.5 litres (from dulux.co.uk). "Built-in furniture takes up less room because it's made to fit." Tip Look for replicas. This Danish-style 4/3 Pendant light is £65 from bluesuntree.co.uk, a quarter of the price of an original Louis Poulsen design. "Don't be afraid to mix styles: this mid-20th-century piece works well in a Georgian setting," Richardson says.
Kitchen
Tip Stick to one colour in different shades. "Use tones of the same colour to make some things stand out and others disappear," says Richardson. "This will trick the eye into thinking there's more depth than there really is." And remember, dark colours look posher. This strong blue (Dulux Venetian Crystal 1, £19.49 for 2.5 litres, from Dulux) on the kitchen units – which are cheap, plain carcasses from a trade shop – makes them appear solid and heavy, and therefore more expensive." Tip Think storage. "It's key to staying on top of a small space," Richardson says.
Bathroom
Tip Show as much floor as possible. "Fit a wall-hung toilet with a hidden cistern to make a small bathroom feel uncluttered." Tip Think vintage. "It warms up what is usually a boring clinical-looking room," says Richardson. Here, a decorative reclaimed piano upright is transformed into a bath panel. Tip Try something other than white. The brown-and-gold-flecked mosaic glass tiles behind the tub are Smokey Ridge, £55 per sq m, from Tiles Of Stow, and the turquoise paint is Dulux Velvet Touch 1 from Dulux.
Photographs by Holly Jolliffe
Interiors: From crack house to modern house
Posted by The Sheet in Architecture News on April 30, 2010
The architects who turned a derelict one-time crack den into an award-winning family home
Back in 2005, when the market was booming, architect Patrick Michell and his partner, Claire McKeown, bought a three-bed house in Hackney, east London. The area boasts handsome terraces, but this house, a boarded-up former crack den, was in a sorry state. Fires had ripped through two rooms and there was a shabbily psychedelic paint scheme. Bailiffs had removed any character features that were left.
But to an architect wanting to make a property his own, it was perfect. "If there had been period features, we'd have worked more sensitively with them, but because it had all gone, we were free to give it a modernist slant," says Michell, 32.
He opened up the two front receptions, and transformed and expanded the narrow kitchen space at the back with a glass roof across the side return. The glass is one huge single piece, appearing to balance unaided on a wall of stone. The back wall is largely glass, too, with a ceiling-high, pivoting glass door to the garden and a glass box punched into the wall to create an appealing window seat. In summer, sunlight streams in, while at night trees tower in silhouette above your head. With a concrete floor inside extending out to the patio, the design aims to merge the two spaces. "I've made it fairly obvious what's new and what's original," Michell says, "and it's given the house a new character." Sightlines from the front door and bay are designed to run through to the garden, and the stairs have been opened up with a glass wall. Doesn't all the glass compromise their privacy? "You can't get away from it in London," McKeown says. "You have to accept that you'll have neighbours and sometimes they'll see what you're doing."
The extension was allowed under "permitted development" planning law, and the building work took nine months, during which time they moved into McKeown's rented flat. "I'd muscled in by this stage," says McKeown, 31, who trained as an architect. Between them, they took the tough decisions essential to any project – where to spend money and where to cut back. Michell's initial £125,000 budget finally came in at £190,000 – all part of the learning process, he says. (The house cost £378,000 at auction.) And though they cut back on the kitchen and joinery budgets, they spent money where it counted, on striking elements such as the glass.
They moved in before the work was finished, and tackled the tiling and painting themselves. "We had hot water, but nothing to cook on," Michell says. "It wasn't really the right thing to do." But for McKeown the excitement was worth it. Her tip for surviving? Build a wardrobe. "If I can get up in the morning and get dressed, I can cope with anything."
Almost finished, the house won an award earlier this year for the best London extension of the last five years. There are still jobs to do – shelves to put up, a front garden to complete – but they are happy to find every weekend is no longer dominated by DIY. They spend most of their time in the kitchen, and take particular pride in the window seat. Their only worry is that, having created a bespoke home, there can be no going back. As McKeown says, "We couldn't imagine living somewhere someone else has designed."
Would you build your own home?
Posted by The Sheet in Architecture News on March 21, 2010
Cheap land prices and the recession mean that more and more people are donning hard hats and opting to self-build their own houses
When Glyn and Jane Martin decided to convert a wooden shack on the Devon coast – complete with spiders, mice and rampaging ivy – into a more permanent home, it is safe to say they did not envisage exactly how it would impact on their lives. The first stage was to commission a design from their architect daughter Annie; this agreed, builders were called in to lay the foundations. Then the family took over – Annie and her partner Mark, a carpenter, moved on site to supervise the project; Glyn and Jane bought a caravan so they could join them, and Jane took a year out from her job as a teacher. New skills were learned (plasterboarding, tanking the blockwork), but work progressed more slowly than expected, particularly in winter when the weather could be, as Annie says euphemistically, "quite wild".
"It was a dream we wanted to realise, so we just went for it," says Jane of the two-year period. "Of course there are times when you are working in a blizzard and you know the next delivery is coming and you don't know where to put it. And you think: 'Whose idea was this?' But we could always stand back and say, 'Look what we've done. Look what we're achieving.'"
What they have achieved is certainly spectacular. The Seacombe residence is a spacious, luxurious two-storey house with impeccable eco credentials. It also has total wi-fi coverage, a state-of-the-art kitchen and a secret cinema hidden behind a bookcase. And the hard work has more than paid off: the land costs were £300,000, building was £350,000, but the property is now valued at £1.2m.
There's always been a small band of intrepid BYO (build your own) pioneers prepared to don hard hats and construct their own castles – saving thousands in the process – but their numbers are on the up. And the recession is helping. Plot prices are down 20% on last year (and 33% since January 2008), according to BuildStore, the largest one-stop shop for self-builders. Additionally, small builders who have traditionally snapped up such "windfall" sites have had their financial plug pulled by banks less inclined to dole out cash, leaving the door open to those who want to do it themselves.
"If you've had a long-term dream to build, now is probably the best opportunity for 10 or 15 years," says Michael Holmes, editor in chief of Homebuilding & Renovating magazine. Holmes, who has both renovated and built from scratch, has found building much easier, and if you're handy and you've got the time – most self-builders are self-employed, retired or able to take time off work – it's definitely worth it.
"It is a time commitment," says Holmes, "but you get a bespoke house and you end up with a property worth considerably more than it cost. You are building in equity. You are building in a profit margin. For people who are climbing the housing ladder, it's a fantastic way of actually making it happen. And it's tax free."
Monty Ravenscroft became a self-build sensation overnight, when he showed what could be done with an unprepossessing scrap of urban wasteland in south London. Armed with a tiny budget, a pile of books, a gang of mates and impressive derring-do he transformed a narrow, derelict plot into an open-plan, cutting-edge family home – his antics closely followed by Grand Designs. And the nation loved him for it: "It was a David and Goliath thing," says Ravenscroft, who works as an engineer, actor and film producer. "We were struggling against the system, as self-build mortgages all catered for the standard process, for a standard house with a standard value. Which ours had none of. We were going to use weird materials, in a weird site, with a weird design without any windows." The skinny strip of land was cheap at £40,000, because windows were not an option – his neighbours are too close – but, after 18 months of hard work and a spend of £170,000, the house was valued at between £600,000 and £700,000 in 2006.
But it's not all about saving cash. Boxy Victorian terraces, for one, are constricting, and knock down as many walls as you like, there's a limit to what can be done with them. Self-builders, on the other hand, have the luxury of living in a tailor-made space, and they know what they want. "Large entertaining spaces, a kitchen breakfast room, glass doors opening out on to the garden, under-floor heating… These are all the basics that go into self-builds now," says Holmes.
In 2009 there was a 145% jump in the number of plots sold between the first and third quarter, according to BuildStore, and of all new detached houses at least a third are estimated to be self-build projects. It's no wonder television shows such as Grand Designs pull in the crowds. As for those contemplating taking the plunge, top tips include: don't pay up front for work; don't get disillusioned in your hunt for a plot; do your research; set your budget; project manage yourself; claim back VAT on all your materials; and when you're up against it and feeling the strain, keep an eye on the bigger picture.
For Ravenscroft the pressure peaked on concrete days: "I hate concrete," he says. "Stress levels are very high because you are spending a lot of money. The trucks are arriving, the pumps are arriving, the people are arriving. You start pumping and things start going wrong, and you can't do it, and you can't finish, and meanwhile it's setting behind you… It's just really miserable." Even on good days, he says, the construction process is still all-consuming: "You are looking at it. You are thinking about it, you are dreaming about it and you are having nightmares about it, because it takes up every moment of your life. But then you end up living in what some people say is paradise."
Ian and Sarah Gluyas, Oxfordshire
Ian and Sarah wanted one extra bedroom for them and their three children, but couldn't afford the financial hike needed to move from their three-bed. Instead, after scouting around for almost three years, they found a plot for £120,000 in their Oxfordshire village, sold their house and moved into a caravan on their new piece of land (living in situ reduces your site insurance)."I paid for it to be a water-tight shell and for an electrician," says Ian. "But I did the plastering, painting, fitted the bathrooms, a bit of plumbing, tiling, hanging doors, the carpentry…" A Formula 1 engineer, but a boat builder by trade, Ian was working five days a week and 17 weekends that year, but somehow made the time needed to complete the house within 18 months. "I would start at 8pm after work and go through until 2am."
With Sarah as on-site manager and fellow painter, they put in a £30,000 kitchen for just £6,500, and after a total building spend of £125,000, they had the house valued at £450,000. The other good thing about being a self-builder, Ian points out, is that you can keep tweaking and adding little extras; he is now building a bespoke car port for £6,000 – saving nearly £30,000.
Donald and Catherine Bisset, Peeblesshire
Donald and his wife Catherine were looking for a bigger place for themselves and their first child, only to find they were priced out of the ready-build market. They casually started looking for plots and came across one on the River Lyne, 30 minutes from Edinburgh, which they felt they had to grab. It was in their budget and came with detailed planning permission for a five-bedroom house.In between abseiling off oil rigs in the North Sea where he works as an inspector, Donald set himself the task of building a large family home from scratch, learning all the trades as he went along. With a stack of books and the help of knowledgeable friends and family, the Bissets took nine months to complete their new home. Donald, who had previous experience with various roofing jobs, dug the foundations in apocalyptic conditions, built the timber frame and did the roofing and the plumbing. He pushed himself so hard he came down with pneumonia.
The Bissets believe they have found the perfect location for their family and, having paid £165,000 for the land and a further £150,000 for building costs, they have recently had the house valued at £400,000.
Brad Lochore, East London
In 2005 conceptual artist Brad Lochore decided to overhaul a Victorian warehouse he had bought in Shoreditch in east London in 1996 for £120,000, and turn it into a contemporary studio and living space. He employed Tony Fretton Architects to design the space and building, but quickly became disillusioned with the builders he called in to price up the job.
"The contractors either came back and said: 'We can't do it we're so busy', or they came back with such ludicrous prices, so the only option left to me was to roll up my sleeves and do it myself." Being self-employed left Lochore free to manage his time, and as an artist he had a basic understanding of materials. He spent £280,000 on the rebuild, plus £30,000 for extra land from his neighbour. He believes he saved a couple of hundred thousand by doing the work himself, and has since had an informal valuation of £3m.
Lochore has ended up with a building with two to five bedrooms (depending on what rooms are being used for), two bathrooms and three kitchens. "I've produced a unique, beautiful building," he says. "I know every single nut and bolt in it."
Interiors: Mind the Gap House
Posted by The Sheet in Architecture News on March 20, 2010
It was once an narrow, dark alley between two listed buildings. Now it's a stunning contemporary home
It takes an architect to look at a narrow, dark alley, a gap between two buildings, and think, "Yep, that's where I want to live." But that's exactly what Luke Tozer did. Unintimidated by the fact that the street frontage was a mere 2.3m wide, or that the houses on either side were listed, or even by the fact that the space, an alley opening out into a garden, was bang in the middle of the Bayswater conservation area, west London, Tozer made models of his house before he had even bought the site, and took them to planners and his would-be neighbours. "They listened quietly to what I had to say," Tozer says, "then wrote long objection letters to the council."
How did he convince them his Gap House was a good idea? "We worked hard to reduce the impact on the neighbours as much as possible," he says. Following some serious negotiations, in return for their side entrance, which was situated in the alleyway, Tozer got planning permission and paid to dig out the neighbour's front garden and build a utility room in its place. He also turned the neighbour's small, dark courtyard into a raised, sun-filled terrace with a new living space underneath.
"In a conservation area in London, you have to either preserve or enhance the character of the area," he says. "We were hoping to enhance its urban character and create a listed building of the future." Tozer's aim, along with his business partner Tim Pitman (together they form Pitman Tozer Architects), was to build a contemporary, low-energy house.
It's hard to picture from the street, but the narrow white render housefront cascades into a 185 sq m Tardis of contemporary living. "It reminds me of Mr Benn," Tozer says, "when he goes through the magic door in the clothes shop and enters a whole other world." Living, eating and entertaining are done at the back, in an open-plan lounge-cum-courtyard, while the narrower front of the house is dedicated to three smaller, identical bedrooms, one stacked on top of the other. "Having the sleeping areas so separate is great because we have two young kids," says Tozer's wife, Charlotte. "We just retire to bed. The rest of the living is done downstairs." And what's it like to turn your lounge into an outside space with one push of a glass door? "It feels like you are in LA or the Mediterranean."
Below the courtyard are three 50m bore holes serving a ground-coupled heat pump, which provides the heating and hot water for the house. Rainwater is collected on the house's roofs to minimise water consumption and passive solar gain minimises lighting and heating requirements. Charlotte says, "I was worried about the rainwater harvesting because I thought it was going to be stinky, and I was worried we'd be living in a freezing house and never get enough hot water for a shower." The outcome couldn't be farther from the truth. Not only has the house won a Riba Manser Medal – the annual prize for the best one-off house in the UK – but with it came an engraved silver plaque, affirmation that the Gap House can stand, narrow and proud, as a listed building of the future.
Is Gary Neville living in Teletubbyland with plans for his eco house?
Posted by The Sheet in Architecture News on January 28, 2010
The Manchester United football star plans to build an eco-home which closely resembles that of the Teletubbies . . .
Manchester United star Gary Neville has revealed plans to build an underground "eco-bunker" (above) at his home in Lancashire. Locals have already dubbed it Teletubbyland (top). Artists' impressions of the £8m zero-carbon development, designed to merge seamlessly with the surrounding moorland, resemble something between a futuristic hobbit hole and the hideout of a rural Bond villain. The architects, meanwhile, have compared it with Skara Brae, a neolithic settlement in Orkney. Whatever inspired this hillside hideaway, its similarity to the Teletubby residence is hard to deny. Rumours of a plan to build a vacuum-cleaning dog named Noo-Noo are so far unconfirmed.