In this short video about the Harry and Penelope Seidler House in Sydney (which is a beautiful heritage-listed modernist house), Penelope talks about how her and her late husband, Harry, used to drive around looking for the ideal block of land in which to build their own home.

When she begins to talk about the property they ultimately chose (pictured above), she is about to call it a challenging lot, but then immediately corrects and says that it is "an architect's block" -- it's steeply sloping. I thought this was interesting for two reasons.

One, there are countless examples of famous homes built into steep and sloping terrain. Think, for example, of the Douglas House by Richard Meier. A personal favorite. And two, I myself am drawn to these sorts of lots. Topography creates challenges, but also opportunities. It forces you to engage the site and also really study the section as you design.

Is this really an architect thing?

Image: Monocle

The Smith House by Richard Meier turned 50 years old last year. In celebration of that, photographer Mike Schwartz took these photographs. And just recently they were published in Surface Magazine along with an interview of both Meier and Chuck Smith. Smith’s mother commissioned the house (completed in 1967) and he was 8 years old when the family moved in.

My favorite comment in the article is this one by Smith:

“Don’t throw balls in the house, and don’t touch the walls.” I must have heard “don’t touch the walls” three or four times a day. That said, there’s a crack in one of the windows where I shot it with a BB gun. We got away with some things.

Modern architecture was supposed to be a perfectly engineered machine for living. But I guess living didn’t include touching the walls or shooting BB guns in the house.

My favorite photos – both from Mike Schwartz – are these two:

They feel like inversions of each other. The first one (day shot) is all about the views outward. Meier also talks about how the white on white helps to enhance this experience. The second one (night shot) turns the house inward on itself. Smith talks about how at night the view disappears and all you’re left with is your own reflection.

I also like how the paint is flaking on the fireplace, which by the way, is perfectly on axis with the home’s entry. It makes you work a little bit for the view. Apparently keeping the paint on was a problem since day one. But it gives the house – which is otherwise seemingly perfect – a bit of a patina. 

However, I’m guessing that Meier would prefer the paint stay on.

The Douglas House by architect Richard Meier was just designated by the National Register of Historic Places. The house was originally designed in the late 1960s for Jean and Jim Douglas of Grand Rapids, Michigan. But it was more recently restored by Marcia Myers and Michael McCarthy. They purchased the tired property in 2007 and apparently had architecture professors knocking on their door shortly thereafter.

Here is a beautiful photo (via Curbed) by James Haefner courtesy of the Michigan State Historic Preservation Office:

I love the positioning of the house within the landscape. In fact, it’s built into such a steep slope that you actually enter the house at roof level via a bridge. However, once inside, you’re then able to look down to the living and dining areas, as well as out to the sundeck overlooking Lake Michigan.

Interestingly enough (according to designboom), the Douglas family had originally purchased a lot for their new home in a residential subdivision. But when the developer of the subdivision prohibited them from working with a stark Modernist like Richard Meier (those damn developers), they decided to sell the lot and look for something else. Above is what they ultimately decided on.

I’m glad they stuck to their guns. Otherwise this house probably wouldn’t exist today. And that would be a shame. I’ve always liked the work of Richard Meier. It’s always white and minimal and I like white and minimal. Simplicity can be surprisingly difficult to achieve. As the saying goes: “If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.”

In this short video about the Harry and Penelope Seidler House in Sydney (which is a beautiful heritage-listed modernist house), Penelope talks about how her and her late husband, Harry, used to drive around looking for the ideal block of land in which to build their own home.

When she begins to talk about the property they ultimately chose (pictured above), she is about to call it a challenging lot, but then immediately corrects and says that it is "an architect's block" -- it's steeply sloping. I thought this was interesting for two reasons.

One, there are countless examples of famous homes built into steep and sloping terrain. Think, for example, of the Douglas House by Richard Meier. A personal favorite. And two, I myself am drawn to these sorts of lots. Topography creates challenges, but also opportunities. It forces you to engage the site and also really study the section as you design.

Is this really an architect thing?

Image: Monocle

The Smith House by Richard Meier turned 50 years old last year. In celebration of that, photographer Mike Schwartz took these photographs. And just recently they were published in Surface Magazine along with an interview of both Meier and Chuck Smith. Smith’s mother commissioned the house (completed in 1967) and he was 8 years old when the family moved in.

My favorite comment in the article is this one by Smith:

“Don’t throw balls in the house, and don’t touch the walls.” I must have heard “don’t touch the walls” three or four times a day. That said, there’s a crack in one of the windows where I shot it with a BB gun. We got away with some things.

Modern architecture was supposed to be a perfectly engineered machine for living. But I guess living didn’t include touching the walls or shooting BB guns in the house.

My favorite photos – both from Mike Schwartz – are these two:

They feel like inversions of each other. The first one (day shot) is all about the views outward. Meier also talks about how the white on white helps to enhance this experience. The second one (night shot) turns the house inward on itself. Smith talks about how at night the view disappears and all you’re left with is your own reflection.

I also like how the paint is flaking on the fireplace, which by the way, is perfectly on axis with the home’s entry. It makes you work a little bit for the view. Apparently keeping the paint on was a problem since day one. But it gives the house – which is otherwise seemingly perfect – a bit of a patina. 

However, I’m guessing that Meier would prefer the paint stay on.

The Douglas House by architect Richard Meier was just designated by the National Register of Historic Places. The house was originally designed in the late 1960s for Jean and Jim Douglas of Grand Rapids, Michigan. But it was more recently restored by Marcia Myers and Michael McCarthy. They purchased the tired property in 2007 and apparently had architecture professors knocking on their door shortly thereafter.

Here is a beautiful photo (via Curbed) by James Haefner courtesy of the Michigan State Historic Preservation Office:

I love the positioning of the house within the landscape. In fact, it’s built into such a steep slope that you actually enter the house at roof level via a bridge. However, once inside, you’re then able to look down to the living and dining areas, as well as out to the sundeck overlooking Lake Michigan.

Interestingly enough (according to designboom), the Douglas family had originally purchased a lot for their new home in a residential subdivision. But when the developer of the subdivision prohibited them from working with a stark Modernist like Richard Meier (those damn developers), they decided to sell the lot and look for something else. Above is what they ultimately decided on.

I’m glad they stuck to their guns. Otherwise this house probably wouldn’t exist today. And that would be a shame. I’ve always liked the work of Richard Meier. It’s always white and minimal and I like white and minimal. Simplicity can be surprisingly difficult to achieve. As the saying goes: “If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.”