Cabin

“They wanted the new cabin to make a ‘L’ shape with the older cabin, but I convinced them to mimic the old cabin on the opposite side,” architect D’Arcy Jones says. “So the new site has two buildings across from each other, like an equal sign.” Birch trees grow between the cabins in a shared courtyard.

Philip Jodidio's Cabins (Taschen, November 2014) chronicles how architects have explored the concept of a minimal, low-impact, and isolated abode. The book features photographs, illustrations, and text detailing projects from around the world.

When they are eventually integrated into the parks, the cabins are meant to stand in groups of ten to 15.

Anka Lamprecht and Lukas Wezel shared their rustic domicile in a valley in Grotli, Norway. Boasting an enviable view, it’s the first cabin archived in the book’s “Backcountry” category that features homesteads in the wilderness.

A section of the roof reaches over a rock outcropping—a detail that visually connects the house to the landscape and offers a handy way to climb up to the roof deck without using a ladder.

The house is divided into three sections connected by a series of outdoor galleries. “When I walk from one room to another, I have to go outdoors and feel the weather and nature—rain, cold, and sun,” says Sævik. Instead of emphasizing the expansive panorama of oak, pine, and aspen trees, the house frames select views—a move inspired by Japanese design.

The site needed a path that would let residents easily ascend from the bank to the house. The architects created one by simply replicating the way they had naturally walked up the site the first time they visited. The result is a meandering trail that directs visitors to the landscape’s different features — whether a majestic Arbutus tree, a private stone beach, or a wildflower clearing.

A polychrome facade made of salvaged, 100-year-old barnwood gives this small, lofted cottage space its unique character. Its copper roof is also reclaimed, a lucky Craigslist find from a local remodel. Though the structure has a footprint of just 11' x 14', it provides a useful space to entertain, catch up on work, or relax.

Though the retreat is clearly meant to afford the solitude writing so often requires, Kathleen reports that "it's very lively. Deer approach, birds bathe. The sun warms my desk and you can hear the rain."

Large sliding glass doors allow daylight to fill the living room. Smaller windows are placed in the kitchen area and the sleeping loft. The exterior is clad in heart pine which needs very little up-keep and is known for its strength and hardness.

The hideaway grows darker as residents move through the space toward the bedroom. The only light in the sleeping space enters indirectly from the nearby glass façade, as well as from a small ventilation window in the northern corner.

The west side is clad with six shutters made of horizontal, western red cedar slats that can be opened or closed with a single movement. "We wanted it to be able to feel cozy when needed," Oostenbruggen says.

“We did our best to tuck the buildings into the site—the goal was to get up high on a perch. It was a matter of setting that elevation and working back down with the topography.”—Riley Pratt, architectural designer

Olson Kundig Architects' Delta Shelter, in Mazama, Washington, is a 1,000 square-foot steel box home with a 200 square-foot footprint. Photo by Olson Sundberg Kundig Allen Architects/TASCHEN.

When not in use as the headboard, the large redwood slab folds down to become a desk.

Set in the lush Wisconsin forest, this neatly stacked cabin was built vertically in order to minimize the amount of grading and landscaping necessary for construction. Photo by: Narayan Mahon

The living room's double height makes the space seem larger that its actual size. Stairs leading up to the sleeping loft are placed next to the open fireplace. The plastered wall and the soapstone tiles on the floor add some roughness to the wooden interior.