AIR APPARENT
The work of Sri Lankan architect Geoffrey Bawa inspired the open spaces of a dark, polished interpretation of an Australian seaside home on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast.
Living in these dark, calming spaces is like looking through a camera lens, framing lush vegetation and the azure sweep of the bay beyond, says the owner of this Noosa home. But the interiors are as seductive as the landscape they crisply capture. Moody and encompassing, they are worlds away from the conventional Australian coastal home and, says the home’s owner, “like a breath of fresh air”.
Long-time residents of the popular seaside town, he and his wife bought the prime site in 2013. Host to holiday cottages and tearooms back in the 1960s, it had since been cleared, presenting them with an empty lot ringed by majestic eucalypts. “There was no other site like it in Noosa,” he says. “It’s protected from the weather and in walking distance to both the National Park and the excitement of Hastings Street.” With their three daughters nearly grown up, the couple saw it as a place to enjoy an early retirement and hopefully pass down to future generations. So it was destined to be a project of passion and love.
But how to do the site justice? The couple had long admired the work of renowned Sri Lankan architect Geoffrey Bawa, who fused indoors and out by designing buildings around courtyards, featuring roofs without walls and walls without roofs, and gave as much emphasis to the landscaping as the building itself. In 2014, the pair researched his creations by visiting Bawa’s labyrinthine courtyard house in Colombo and staying at his garden home, Lunuganga, on the island’s coast.
“He broke down the barrier between interior and exterior spaces, between the building and its site,” says the owner. “We liked how he united architecture and landscape in a single space.” On their return, the couple searched for a local designer who shared those principles, eventually hiring Frank Macchia who is now based in Byron Bay.
In a three-year build, beginning in 2016, Macchia created a series of three pavilions, joined by covered walkways open to the weather. Open-plan living areas in one pavilion and three bedrooms in another occupy the main level, while a study and laundry with guest suite above form a third pavilion. A media room tucked under the three bedrooms forms another smaller level, while a self-contained studio apartment, below an infinity pool, shares the entry level with the garage, the two linked by a surfboard storage area. “The house is a deconstruction of a conventional home,” says the owner, “pulled apart in logical elements, laterally across the site and vertically over four levels in rising topography.” Nature is omnipresent throughout.
“It’s a continuous single space — you are not going in and out.”
In a tricky challenge for such an open building, it also had to provide privacy. That’s partially solved with the architecture — walls of vertical stained-timber slats let the occupants see out, but neighbours can’t see in, while they also soften what could be a brutalist concrete facade, especially in the dark colour Macchia specified. Privacy was also addressed by planting swathes of pandanus trees, 22 all up, again used as a counterpoint to the building’s monumentality.
For the interiors, the owners hired CLO Studios creative director Chloe Tozer and interior designer Katrina Mair. Their brief, again inspired by the Bawa muse, was to create relaxing and serene spaces that were a continuation of the outside, referencing the surrounding landscape and the home’s deep-grey concrete exterior.
“It’s not your typical coastal palette, but it’s so calming,” says Tozer. “We took the black of the house, the greens of the pandanus leaves and the browns of their trunks, and explored the tones within these three colours.” “We started with a dark canvas and added light and texture,” adds Mair.
Australian hardwood and concrete flow seamlessly inside and out. Blackbutt walls are stained in an anthracite hue, so too the concrete floors and ceilings, the latter coated in beeswax for a velvety texture. “Texture, at the forefront of our design, allowed us to create curiosity,” says Tozer, a task aided by a building that channels light. “The architecture creates such a lovely light-play, which we utilised. You see movement on solid pieces of upholstery, shadows on carved timbers, visual differences ››
“Geoffrey Bawa broke down the barrier between interior and exterior spaces, between the building and its site. We liked how he united architecture and landscape in a single space” HOMEOWNER
‹‹ between layered textures with little colour changes.” “All the furnishing fabrics are natural, with pure cotton, linen, woven jute and leather,” adds Mair, with the finishes teasingly tactile. “Seagrass rugs are softly cut like wool, sofas feature a bouclé, chenille-like linen blend while the low-sheen leather connects back to the concrete.” And those surfaces are organic, evolving over time. “With the timber, you not only see the grain but also how it greys off and develops a patina.” Meanwhile, copper shower fittings evolve into bronze while leathers wear to a lived-in, organic look.
In tune with the raw materials, the touch of the artisan pervades, from the custom joinery down to hand-blown glassware. “We travelled across Queensland sourcing crafted pieces, such as rustic coffee and side tables — where we could, we went local,” says Tozer. In such an individual home, everyone has a favourite nook. “Mine is on the main level,” says Mair, “in a little corner by the fireplace, where you feel the warmth of the fire. You are virtually outside, but still feel protected by the walls while looking out at the National Park.” That image forms the perfect snapshot of a house that nurtures and energises at the same time.