Labour of love

The agony and ectasy of turning a garden garage into a detached house. By Anabel Cutler

Building a house is like climbing a mountain: there’s a certain romantic folly about embarking on the journey and a necessary naivety about what lies ahead. The route up is perilous; the emotional, physical and financial cost so much bigger than you imagined; and you hope that when you get to the summit it will all have been worth it.

My partner Steve and I started our building project more than four years ago. We own a corner house in north-west London, which had a tantalising plot at the end of the garden and a double garage with separate access to the road. We’d talked about developing it since moving here in 2011, with the idea of initially renting it out and eventually living there. But with extensive renovations to our existing house, three small children and financial constraints, it remained just talk.

In 2014 we were in a position to take the first baby steps. We met with an architect and drew up plans to submit to the planning office, just to see the lie of the land. They were refused. It took another year and a half, a new team of architects and much more dancing to the whimsical tune of the planning office before we were finally given the go-ahead.

Ultimately we chose to work with Japanese-led Takero Shimazaki Architects, who fully understood what we were trying to achieve. In contrast to the modern trend for minimalist glass boxes, we wanted to create something that was completely outside the norm and we agreed on the need for a more internally focused, contemplative space that would provide respite from the city.

We found inspiration in an 1819 sketch by JMW Turner called Interior of an Italian Church, which depicted a delicate side light projected on to the high curved walls. The work of architect Tadao Ando, who uses the subtle play of light to wonderful effect, was also on our mood board, as was Belgian designer Axel Vervoordt’s minimalist interiors and use of raw, imperfect materials.

Planning restrictions prohibited constructing anything higher or wider than the initial imprint of the garage, which was a few hundred square feet. So to create the desired sense of height, space and lighting, we had to dig down, ending up with a 1,100-square-foot space. An internal courtyard was to provide a secluded garden, as well as delivering much needed light into the downstairs living areas.

Our plan was to build a largely concrete house, hidden behind an unassuming silvered timber

We wanted to create something that was completely outside the norm

façade. With the architects, we looked to iconic concrete buildings, such as the National Theatre and Tate Modern, for design inspiration.

While it looks utilitarian, concrete is tricky to work with because so many elements are uncontrollable. Poured on site into shuttered moulds, the batches can be slightly different in tone or might not fill the space. It’s hard to match seams, and the weather affects the drying. This was never going to be an easy build, and our budget didn’t stretch to the major contractors that were really well versed in the process.

The workers arrived in November 2016 and started to dig. It was tough to excavate such a small plot, and we watched as a big gaping pit swallowed our lovingly landscaped garden. When the walls started going up, there were problems with the concrete and we had to ‘condemn’ many of the pours and start again. The work soon fell hopelessly behind schedule, although the builders, to their credit, battled on relentlessly.

The fun part was choosing the materials, finishes and lighting. We were in constant conversation with the architects and there was a real exchange of ideas. They were brilliant at sourcing, project managing and budgeting. Of course, we overran on the costs, though not wildly considering the complexity of the build and the quality of the materials used.

What really stung financially was the nine months we went past the planned finish date. We borrowed money from where we could, finally taking out an expensive bridging loan. Balancing the budget while trying to remain true to the original concept sometimes seemed an impossible task, but we learnt so much along the way.

Building a house requires real patience, tenacity and strength. Issues around finances and timings inevitably send stress levels soaring. Luckily our neighbours were very tolerant, but Steve and I did have the odd argument towards the end. It is also much more emotional than I expected. The relationships you foster along the way, with builders, architects and craftsmen, are intimate, familial and sometimes fraught as pressures mount – a little bit of everyone’s soul is woven into the fabric of the building.

But we’re finally at the top of our mountain and I can truly say it’s been worth it. We’ve created something that is, for us, beautiful, unique and lasting, with real integrity. And I would do it again in a heartbeat. My next fantasy project is going to be a structure on a lake or by the sea… with some mountains in the background.

When the walls started going up, there were problems with the concrete and we had to start again

What does it take to build your own home? For Anabel Cutler it meant four years of stress, arguments and spiralling costs – plus some architects and builders becoming part of the family. Photographs by Taran Wilkhu

Below The house is hidden behind silvered timber fencing. BottomA patterned rug softens the effect of concrete walls

Previous page In the dining room, a Georgian oak table and a bespoke brass handrail from The London Blacksmith enhance the church-like feel; a tranquil corner of the living room is traditionally furnished with a lamp from a French flea market and a Matthew Hilton Balzac chair

Below left Anabel and Steve in the entrance hall, where the high ceiling and blue velvet theatre curtain add a sense of drama

Top Entered from double arched doors, the private courtyard, with stone from a Welsh quarry, has a subtle Japanese feel

Above A roof light casts a striking ellipse that moves with the sun. Cushions from Mark Alexander bring warmth to the scheme

Above The glass floor in the office area lets light into the kitchen below