Scales

Entering the house from the street, everything initially seems quite ordinary, familiar from any terraced house. It is deeper into the plot, almost at the rear façade, that something happens: the narrow parallel lines of the site open out on both sides, creating, somewhat unexpectedly, a generous space. A large part is already occupied by a wild, biodiverse garden on one side. A smaller part by a severely outdated bathroom and utility room on the other. The small rear façade of the back building thus becomes an interface, a circulation hub that orchestrates movement and experience. This entire zone is outdated. By extension, the whole skin of the house at the rear can be considered outdated too. This becomes the starting point for rethinking the zone and uncovering its untapped possibilities.

The window becomes a folding-sliding window to maximise the width of the opening. Better still, it turns the corner, capturing western light and creating an engaging diagonal view, a rarity in terraced houses. Beyond the window, the transition between garden and house is delayed, softened, blurred. A canopy of glass and timber mediates between the two. Ribbed glass, glass roof tiles. They let in the light, but screen out the gaze of the neighbours behind. They keep out the rain as well. It is a pleasant place to sit in every season. Like a translucent fish skin, they stretch across the small terrace. The yellow window in the façade is complemented by a pale blue plinth. Above it, roof tiles once again. This time not glass, but ordinary fired clay. They creep upwards, reaching beneath the pitched roof of the main house.

The bathroom in the corner is inherently quite enclosed. Several plot boundaries prevent the introduction of windows. The adjoining garden also rises up, literally burying half of this level. We embrace this enclosure as a gift. A sunken, earthy den. A rooflight complements the two small windows. Throughout the day, the sun shifts through the den. Buried, but not dark. The walls resemble a geological section, with two sandy shades of tile forming horizontal bands. Pale blue shelves mark the walls too, gathering the things used to wash and dry people and clothes. A rolling mirror uses them as its track. Sandy children’s footprints appear across the floor. The low sun glints in the still-wet shower. A water pistol lies on the ground. Watermelon is eaten beneath the canopy. A summer day comes to an end.