Saturna Island . Canada BC
Geological awareness
A private residence on the pristine Island of Saturna in BC, Canada.
The idea behind the unique design/architecture and landscape architecture is all about fitting the dwelling into the site in a humble way and experiencing the landscape in all its drama.
Architecture and landscape architecture are in constant communication with each other.
Architecture dwelling and architecture landscape by Andrew van Egmond.
Dwelling cantilevered over a long concrete wall. A wall that communicates with the linear sandstone bedrock in the bluff.
Contractor:
Andrew van Egmond | Ron Wilson
Architectrure | Design:
Andrew van Egmond with help of
James White & Tony Simmonds
Pictures by Andrew van Egmond
A rhythm of lines of exposed bedrock reveals the story of the geology of the island. The linear movement of the bedrock, the lands and the island as a whole tell the story of glacial movement in the last ice age.
To activate this story, a long low wall of concrete communicates with the geology, the long exposed bedrock in the bluff and, at the same time, forms the base of the dwelling, which cantilevers over the wall, creating the floating effect, triggering the emotion of being a guest in the landscape.
The design of the dwelling itself, the positioning of the dwelling and the constant communication between inside and outside are the result of a landscape architectural approach. So, in this case, architecture is Landscape architecture, and Landscape architecture is architecture.
Because it is such a pristine landscape, we designed the new dwelling so it fits in between existing trees and, therefore, blends into the background of the forest.
This amazing landscape needs only minimal and subtle landscaping. A few lines and gentle composition activates the beauty of the site.
We did nothing in front of the house and just let the bluff be the bluff. Behind the dwelling, the composition of the landscape design is slightly rotated to make a disconnection with the structure of the dwelling, connecting the lines to the landscape and not to the dwelling volume.
The hardscaping consists of sandstone harvested on-site, used in different ways, and a floating deck beside the dwelling to prevent blocking the view in front of the dwelling. It's made of local cedar lumber and 1x2 feet concrete tiles.
Other lines and functional, sculptural elements are made of Portland cement mixed with aggregate excavated from the site. Creating a composition that seems to emerge from the landscape.
The reason for doing it this way is to work with the rawness of the environment. And working from a point of mutual exchange with the landscape. So, try not to bring in any sand, soil, or gravel, but work with what is on site. And let’s be honest, Portland cement is not the most sustainable material to use. I am still researching other options for binding any local aggregate. It’s a learning curve…
Glaciers shaped the overall geology of Saturna Island.
Sequence of a cliffside and two exposed natural rock faces continue into an artificial linear rock face positioned under the cantilevering dwelling, making the architecture float in the landscape.
New dwelling in between existing trees blending the new volume into the background.
2'x1' Concrete tiles
Frame of 4"x6" Local Cedar
Rhythm of Cedar Strips
The planting includes native, local trees, shrubs, grasses, and perennials, with a minimal selection of non-invasive cultivated bulbs, perennials, and biennials. This approach enhances the natural identity of the landscape without detracting from the existing ecosystem.
East Point, the area on Saturna Island where the property is situated, features a rare Garry Oak ecosystem. The design fully connects to this system.
More and more, I have decided to take on the role of a non-gardener but only set the stage for nature to take over. Saturna Island is dry in the summer, and we have to collect our water for domestic and non-domestic use by harvesting rainwater in cisterns. This makes you very aware of the water use, and it forces us to approach the landscape as a landscape without irrigation, which is not sustainable anyway. Often, with newly installed gardens, you put in irrigation (and introduce lots of plastics in the environment) to help the planting for the first two years. In this case, I could not do this; I just gave it over and let nature reclaim the site.
As a landscape designer and a self-confessed lazy gardener, I find this approach intriguing. With increasing water restrictions, awareness of alien topsoils, and regulation of fertilization and pest control, setting the stage for nature to take over seems promising. It involves understanding the pioneering and maturing stages of an ecosystem, seeing the natural carpet in flux through seasons and years, and viewing it as a living system rather than a static collection of plants.
Foxlely as non-native addion
Functional, sculptural elements are made of Portland cement mixed with aggregate excavated from the site. Creating a composition that seems to emerge from the landscape. The reason for doing it this way is to work with the rawness of the environment. And working from a point of mutual exchange with the landscape. So, try not to bring in any sand, soil, or gravel, but work with what is on site.
In this project, I also want to embrace the beauty of decay, as the fabricated structures are vulnerable to moss growth and the loss of their sharpness over time. It’s also about working with time, aging, decay and new life.
We used red and yellow cedar cut-offs to build decks and a cubical greenhouse,
The wood will weather and become grayer every season, merging with the natural landscape over time.
The concept of a volume floating above the bluff worked out well. The design of the residence is a simple one. It’s a rectangular box positioned on a long wall of concrete that acts like an artificial rock face. The house design is one open space of about 1000 sq. ft. Within the one space, different subspaces are created by a central unit that houses the kitchen, the bathroom, and storage.
The slightly elevated floor creates a setting where the bottom window sill is not visible, therefore creating an even stronger connection with the bluff.
On top of this, the materials used, Birch, also connect to the colour of the golden grasses.
Looking back at how we used to use the landscape and local resources is fascinating. For West Coast inhabitants, the First Nations' land practices are inspirational and humbling. Embracing a more vernacular way of living and designing fosters a deep connection with the local landscape, limits the use of alien resources, and creates a sense of place, which is so much needed in these times of globalization, instant gratification and growing interaction with the digital world.
I believe that this mindset, combined with new design-, fabrication-, and building methods, represents the future and can lead to a new design vocabulary and material catalogue.
