Second Thoughts (a.k.a. Part 2)

The first second thought has to do with orientation. At approx. 45°N, Villa Rotonda has no problems with view and no problems with illumination although the last of the setting sun in winter may be blocked by those trees to the south west and that are known as the Southwest Grove. They were intentionally planted, presumably for picturesque reasons probably to do with variety of view. To the south-south-west is what looks like a mediaeval village and to the south are some less picturesque parts of Vicenza that have sprung up recently.

At about 50°N in Weimar, Haus am Horn isn’t going to benefit much from summer sun in the morning but maybe that tree wasn’t that big a hundred years ago. The plan is always drawn with the entrance side towards the bottom but, checking the site plan shows it faces north, the kitchen faces east and the nook (nische) faces west-ish. The interior photos below use real-estate agent perspective. The kitchen window looks very square on the elevation in the first row, third image below.

Back in Australia, the boundary line with the neighbours to the east runs North-South and North is the sunny side. Some people always seem amazed that in Australia, December is summer¹ and sunlight comes from the north. Normally, I think nothing of this but, with this site, north-facing windows aren’t going to happen. Early morning sun comes from the east (to the astonishing astonishment of some!) but will be blocked by the two-storey neighbouring house. Low winter daylight will be blocked by the shed on the north side of a 60cm retaining wall. The only walls that could have windows are the SSE side and the WSW side. I knew this already but the implications are clearer now. Having a small courtyard or at least some space in the north corner of the site now doesn’t seem like a bad idea, especially since the only outdoor area that the neighbours to the east have is that small area the other side of the boundary.

The image at right above is a sneaky shot of the neighbour’s outdoor area. You can see the ridge of the corner shed, and on the left is a 5-metre high laurel hedge that any south-east facing windows will be looking straight at. Not only is daylight restricted, but views out are limited. It’s a bit claustrophobic but this is just how it is, and it has to be ameliorated somehow if this is to be a desirable place for someone to live.

The previous proposal had a wall on the east boundary so any roof would have had to drain away from it, meaning that any wall on the fence-line would have to be, say, perhaps 2.6 metres high instead of the current 2.1 metres. There’s zero to gain from provoking neighbours. The rear wall of the corner shed addition is set back 60-centimeters from the north boundary, most likely because of an unexpected drain there. A sliding glass door opens onto this space but whether it’s for drain access or simply for reasons of construction expedience, I don’t know. It’s not pretty. Later that day, at a secondhand bookstore, I learn that slanted boundaries are bad feng-shui.

Taking all this into account, as well as the fact I didn’t like the look of my first proposal, this is what happened next.

I’ve started to think about finishes and colours and can’t help myself playing with the kitchen but something’s still not right. A glass panel door to the bedroom will enable another view out but only as far as the end wall of the outdoor area but, once again, it’s a view of a wall despite there being windows everywhere there can be. This isn’t a place I can imagine I’d like being in for any extended period of time and that’s not what designing a residential space is about and it is definitely not the main requirement this tiny house has to fulfil.

In short, I’d reached that stage where the design can’t go any further and where anything else would be just tinkering. For such a small building, it was becoming very complex and I was also beginning to feel it was in need of some kind of rationalization. Construction was the big unknown. The client – let’s be honest – my sister wasn’t keen on the metal cladding I’d proposed so I didn’t bother suggesting craning in two customized shipping containers to create a T-shape even though something about the geometric rationality appealed to me. If I were to say where the idea for my third proposal came from, it’d be a combination of the following.

In my primitive not-AI brain, the first prompt accessed Villa Rotunda which, because of its spectacular location and views in all directions wasn’t much use, but the second prompt accessed the far more useful reference of Haus am Horn and its very handsome and liveable central space that, apart from the lovely but weirdly under-photographed study niche has no other visual connection with the outside. One thing the site for my proposal does have is views up and out of trees and of the sky that is often blue. In the middle photograph, that’s one very large palm tree in the distance and two quite large olive trees the other side of the boundary. [Pic. 2] My high windows are going to have clear glass and I really don’t understand why Haus am Horn‘s windows don’t. Sure, they may emphasise the space and its internality but this isn’t what this house for an elderly person needs. Socially, the site for my proposal is never going to have a view of a park or a street view of kindergarten comings and goings that we like to imagine the elderly looking wistfully upon. My site does have nearby parks with children playing and dogs being walked and these can still be easily accessed using a mobility scooter. At the end of the day, a view of treetops and sky may just be the only view that matters and (my sister’s) observation of dad’s preferred kitchen table position at her place where he can see the trees and sky outside seems to confirm this. So I’m not without clues but I still feel I’m just guessing. Old age is uncharted territory and, though this isn’t about me, I still feel I’m on my own with only instinct to guide.

Many years ago, perhaps even twenty, I went with my boss at the time to meet some clients near a suburban overground train station you’d only ever arrive at if you’d mistakenly caught the wrong train from Waterloo. The station was one of those charming 19th century ones with a tea room that me and my boss gravitated to as it was winter and trains weren’t that frequent. As we sat down, I casually remarked that the room was a perfect cube. Many years later, Jill was to write me a letter of recommendation for my London > Dubai move, in which she wrote something like “Graham notices things that others don’t” and I suspect she’s referring to that offhand comment. I’m only mentioning this as a third reference. Haus am Horn‘s central space is 5.9m x 5.9m x about 4m high but I think that spatially configuring (as opposed to spatially structuring) my tiny house around a 3m x 3m x 3m perfect cube is possible. For reference, the square space that defines my living room is 3m x 3m with a 2.8m high raised ceiling portion. I know what 3mL x 3mW x 3mH will feel like. It’s going to be okay.

1. 26 January 2026: Thanks Mark for calling me out on me inadvertently writing winter. I’d managed to confuse myself. Duly corrected. ↩︎