Collection by Luke Hopping
What differentiates a house designed by architects from a woodland nest built by a robin or a rabbit? That basic, elemental question—and a desire to narrow the gap between the two— inspired the 1,300-square-foot home Hiroshima-based architect Keisuke Maeda designed for a teacher, her two teenage daughters, and their cat in the hills of Onomichi, on the southern end of the Japanese island of Honshu. "It’s a nest that’s dug into the ground and covered with fallen leaves, where inside and outside flow into each other. That seemed right for a house near the woods," says Maeda.
On the terrace, an eastern-cedar deck serves as a mid-city oasis.
A single crepe myrtle, which sports red blossoms in summer, defines the courtyard.
The architects designed the rooms as a linear sequence wrapping around a central courtyard. As one would have traversed the preexisting rock face, residents are constantly negotiating small elevation changes throughout the house. The plan also protects a central courtyard from the harsh Yucca Valley climate.
Four-year-old Ian plays in the courtyard, which is the center of family life in warmer months.
The home’s forms, which are masked by the cantilevered entrance, become apparent once one enters the central courtyard. Living spaces abut three of its sides, looking in with full-height windows. The roofline can be seen fluctuating as one goes from front-to-back. The memorial tree, around which the courtyard and home are built, will continue to grow in coming years.