For our retail studio, we were given a 4600 sq. ft. leasehold (mall or streetfront as appropriate), and asked to find a cutting-edge international fashion designer and create a boutique for them. This was a special challenge for me, because I have never been interested in fashion because most haute couture is so unwearable on my frame. I looked at designers from Korea and India especially, and settled on Anand Kabra as my designer of choice. The boutique’s design was to reflect the future direction of our designer’s three most prominent design elements. In my programming, I analyzed Kabra’s past work, the characteristics and demographics of my King’s Road site in Chelsea, London UK, and the needs of the store.

See the programming report (PDF 9mb).

The client brief emphasized use of perimeter wall space and mobile fixtures for merchandising. Most of Kabra’s clothes would display best hung on mannequins or hangers, because they emphasize drape. So I planned the boutique as being an open space with stock storage and a wall fixture system complemented by freestanding racks and a large display island.

Early zoning plan of sales floor

Sketch of track-and-cable system

The wall displays were broken up into sections by a track-and-cable system used to suspend panels in overlapping arrangements much like the logo. These panels needed to be easy to rearrange, so that as new seasonal colours and imagery arrived, and the mix of stock shifted, they could be changed quickly by just one or two employees. For small items such as jewelry and scarves, I used plinths and niches, as if this were a gallery or museum, to highlight Kabra’s chosen items for the season.

When developing the concept, our scope included branding. I often use the graphic design of the programming report, logos, and such materials as a way to ease into how the concept should feel. In this case, the logo is abstract but also makes reference to Kabra’s Indian origin and influences through the boteh (paisley) shape. The theme colour is a heavily mixed tertiary that is almost but not quite neutral, used in one of his collections. The typefaces were chosen for feeling personal, modern, and welcoming.

Sample of branding.

Light streaming into Notre Dame du Haut. Photo: Rory Hyde.

Terraform sculpture by Robert Cannon.

Kabra’s primary design elements are line developed into form, colour, and pattern. Kabra changes silhouettes almost every season, but his forms are always feminine (hence the typefaces chosen), and frequently return to the swirling lines of the Nivi-draped sari. I wanted to keep things simple and mostly use straight lines and flat planes, but I could not resist adding some sari-inspired S curves to that. Those few prominent curving elements give the whole plan an organic feel.

For the island, I was inspired by photos of Le Corbusier’s Ronchamps chapel and Robert Cannon’s terraform sculptures. The island was needed to anchor the center of the space, and its mass created a natural divider between the lounge on one side and a set of display niches on the other.

Kabra changes colours and patterns every season, and so my palette for the boutique was a mix of warm and cool neutrals ranging from white marble through olive wood to black leather. I used a great deal of more textured, often rougher materials, to highlight the shiny, silky materials Kabra often uses. The ceilings, for example, were mostly finished in plaster resembling stone, with gentle bumps and creases. This made the shop less vulnerable to becoming outdated. Seasonal colours and motifs can be added through the track-and-cable system and a pair of bulkheads meant as blank canvases. While the project was not fully specified, I emphasized sustainability in the materials I chose, and tried to create a design that would not need to be torn out and replaced in a few years, but could be selectively updated, for less wasted material.

See the Flickr slideshow of the presentation book (opens in new window).

See the set on Flickr.

Download the CAD drawing.

The gear and text patterns were created in Illustrator, and oh, was it ever miserable work. Illustrator and AutoCAD dislike trading files back and forth. In the end I triumphed and had a very nicely steampunk-and-Art-Nouveau bar.

See the set on Flickr.

Download the CAD drawing.

This set of drawings detail the main guest stairs at the Tesla. Unfortunately our detailing teacher had certain requirements, so they are not the same number of risers as the final project stairs. They do however share the shape, rise and run, and tread materials and detailing. The construction is not quite the same, since the version for detailing class was freestanding with no stairwell wall to attach to.

See the set on Flickr.

Download the CAD drawing.

See the work:

• Work-Research binder for the Loft Full of Curves (PDF, 3 mb)
• Final CAD drawings of the loft (AutoCAD 2004 DWG file, 254 kb)
• Client booklet and renderings on Flickr:

The loft full of curves is the result of our Design Project I course. The goal was a from-the-bare-concrete renovation for a Westboro loft apartment. The client was John Spencer, a senior designer at William McDonough + Partners. As a single man in his 40s, he needed space to live, work, and entertain, but wanted to avoid walls. He insisted on at least 30% sustainable materials, enjoyed transparent materials, and hoped for minimal use of colour, and space to display his art collection.

We began by researching the history of the loft and the client’s favourite designers, brainstorming three different possible layouts that satisfied the program, and selected one to develop further. The design development and selection process is recorded in the preliminary work file for the project. To arrive at the final design, I took elements from several of the preliminary designs and added some new ones. Because the mezzanine, stairs, and other elements are curves and spirals, I started calling the project “loft full of curves”.

Mezzanine and main floor plans.

Now that the floorplan was finalized, we selected and specified materials. I wanted the loft to have a timeless, natural feel that was beautiful without relying on opulent materials. I didn’t want it to belong strongly to a specific era or culture, but to be subtly global, to make a reference or two to the Industrial Revolution, and to complement Norval Morrisseau’s Artist and Shaman Between Two Worlds, on loan to the client. To me that meant wooden furniture with simple but not excessively modern lines, and minimal use of metal. Floors are generally red oak or cork, walls covered in rice paper or paint. As many materials as I could find were vintage, reused, recycled, salvaged, low-VOC, and local.¹ Closet doors are shoji doors, since those are translucent, simple, traditional, modern, and global all at once, and they went nicely with the window grids without overwhelming the space.

Vignette of entry and pixellated glass wall above

I did want to use plenty of glass, but not in the typical modern slab. Instead I used sintered glass (like a sheet of crushed and fused jewels) and glass mosaic tile, both recycled. The bathroom is clad inside and out in glass. Inside, it is entirely covered in clear and aqua glass mosaic tile, and all the surfaces curved where they join, so that the bathroom is a single continuous surface except for its chrome, glass, and white porcelain fixtures, and curved glass shower surround. The solid wall comes only to six feet. Above that, translucent aqua sintered glass sheet attached to the exterior side of the wall is both a window and privacy barrier. The view from the outside shows the aqua glass gradually pixellating out into white plaster through a transition of glass mosaic tile, and continuing over the half-wall to the stairs. This art wall is visible from the living and dining space below, and forms part of their palette — a soft but pleasant contrast with the warm woods, unbleached rice paper, and opal glass lights below.

There are also murals by a local artist, Mark Seabrook, in the same style as Artist and Shaman Between Two Worlds, but in cafe-au-lait and cream to co-ordinate without upstaging. The pillar murals are visible from everywhere in the first floor, and another group surrounds the built-in buffet under the serving counter.

Finally, there are the quarter-circle stairs of red oak and black iron. Red oak stringers and balusters, with black iron openwork steps and railings, so as not to block the light streaming in from the window. Black iron is a strong and beautiful material with so much history, recalling both Victorian cogwheels and curlicues, the plenty and ruin industry can give us.

Our final submissions for the project were the final plans and sections, and the client booklet with rendered vignettes, plans, sections, and digital sample boards.

We were asked to design, draw and model a 650 sq. ft. house for two people anywhere in the world but North America. Outdoor spaces were encouraged since they didn’t count towards our square footage, but no major functions could be left outdoors. I asked my friend Allison if she and her husband Paul would be my clients, and we promptly had a brainstorming session over tea. She wanted the house to be on New Zealand’s North Island, but didn’t have a specific town in mind. I located it in the Coromandel Peninsula, between Tararu and Whakatete Bay. Allison is a witch, Paul is a shaman and energy healer, and they are both tall, so they both wanted the house to be in harmony with nature, have high ceilings, and have quiet space to meditate in. There were many other desiderata, but these were the most important.

Our initial sketches were of earthships and cliffside houses. Our favourites were the many-storey cliff house, and the two-storey house built around a fireplace circled by the main stair, but I didn’t have enough experience to design these within the square footage requirements and the massing I wanted. So in critique, I was advised to concentrate on one or two key ideas, because I was being pulled in too many directions, and because I had some difficulty explaining how the place should feel — or rather, what I was going to do to produce that effect. The feel I knew: this was the good witch’s house, so I wanted it to be hidden away in a forest or other natural setting, and I wanted it to surprise and delight, to be a place that you hadn’t expected to exist but were glad did, like a secret grotto. That was when I got the idea of making it a treehouse. That surprised and delighted both me and everyone who heard the idea, but I knew it was feasible since I had heard of books about them.

Public block, first version

My first intention was to split the house into one or two-room chunks, and put them on individual platforms, all connected to a roofed outdoor stair wrapped around the trunk of a massive kauri tree, like a necklace. This is perfectly workable in a climate that stays between 5-25°C all the time. Compare that to my home in Ottawa, which goes from -40°C in the winter wind to +40°C in the summer sun.

Public block, second version

The first version of the public block saved space and was efficiently heated by the central fireplace, but didn’t respond much to the tree. The second version wrapped better around the trunk, and kept the compact but livable kitchen and dining room arrangements. It also snuck in a half-bath and laundry room (on the right) to cut down on the plumbing labour.

Private block with angled join between bedroom and bathroom

The blocks wrapped around the trunk. At this point, I still had to figure out how much height I needed between the platforms, and how many turns of stairs, since the roofs had not been figured out. I particularly liked the angled joining of the bedroom and bathroom.

Arranging the blocks around the tree

The drawings of the house were due soon, which was how I learned why traditional houses are simple rectangular boxes: they are vastly easier to roof. I sweated over how to cap those angled blocks until my head spun, and admitted that I would have to simplify them in order to meet deadline. That brought about the second version, which was a two-storey house and deck perched in a large, spreading totara tree.

I didn’t like this version so much. The whole composition was awkward. The deck was enormous yet boring, and while that peaked second floor roof worked, it felt like a 1950s or 60s bungalow, not a traditional cottage. Worst, the meditation perch felt like an afterthought. This mattered to me because the key idea I had been able to retain from the cliffside house was the ascension from public, social space through private space to a place to be alone with yourself. That last was the meditation perch, and I could barely cram in a ship’s ladder in the bedroom to the roof, and if I added a balcony or sitting area up there, it would look like an afterthought. Not acceptable.

Final floorplans, private block above, public block below. Link to CAD file below.

Since I wasn’t happy with the second iteration, I changed the plan again before building the model, which was the final submission for the project. Some features from the previous stage remained, such as the material choices: wood siding, a shingled roof, a brick chimney. But the concessions I made to simplify constructing it were exactly what made it feel charming and cottagelike again. All the rooms were simple boxes joined orthagonally except the angled bath, because I could cut 90° and 45° angles accurately in foamcore without a fancy mat cutting setup. Suddenly the blocks looked traditional and nestled into the tree better. I changed almost all the roofs to simple gables, which again, I could see how to make even though I needed to represent 18″ thick material with 6″ thick foamcore.¹ That meant the interiors would have vaulted ceilings with rafters — perfect! I solved the joining of the bedroom and bathroom roofs by not having them join — instead I made the bathroom enough taller that it could have its own roof, and just let it be square instead of trying to cut off a corner.  Since it was going to be so prominent anyway, I made the roof look like a witch’s hat, which Allison loved.

Get the CAD drawings for the plans and elevations (AutoCAD 2004 .dwg file, 170 kb)

But honestly, the house was the easy part of the model. The hard parts were the ground and the tree. Especially the tree. The ground is kitty litter molded into shape with water and glue, dry-brushed with several shades of acrylic paint, and set with twigs to represent smaller trees. It looks satisfyingly groundlike, and permitted me to stick dowels and skewers into it, which turned out to be very important.

Detail of tree and ground

The tree is made out of broomstick handle and coat-hanger wire. To make the tree actually look like a tree, I wrapped the bare wood and wire with gauze-mâché.² Once that was dry, I painted it with a basecoat of brown acrylic and dry-brushed another shade or two on it. This gave me a firm trunk, bendable branches, and a nice barklike finish, all good. The problem was that it also gave me branches that tended to rotate, even when unloaded. Perhaps that could have been solved by gluing them into the sockets, but I didn’t have time for epoxy or Weldbond to set, my cyanoacrylate had glued itself shut, and the hot glue didn’t work when I tried it. I saved the tree by adding reinforcing braces out of bamboo skewer and dowel, which would stick with hot glue to the outer layer of the tree.³ If I ever build another model tree, I’m going to buy a nice thick cable twisted out of medium gauge copper wire, which I can gently fray apart and bend to my will, and gauze-mâché it into life-likeness. I’m sure that method will have its own new and exciting dilemmas, but at least the branches won’t twirl in their sockets.

I admit this isn’t the best model I could have made — another iteration, and it would have been much better. But, given the difficulties I overcame in making it, and how impressed most people have been when they see it, I’m still pleased with it. At least half the class were startled to find out that it wasn’t a real tree. Allison is making room in her apartment (after downsizing from a house) to keep it permanently, even though it is large and somewhat fragile. Another friend who saw it stopped in his tracks and said, “Could I have that?”. Now, if I can just get that kind of reaction to all my projects, I should be set!