The Journey of Nalukea
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Having designed and built in climates with four, two, and seemingly one season, John is well prepared to meet the full spectrum of possibilities. Although his travel, patience, and curiosity prepared him for building in Hawaii, living here has been a completely new experience beyond the scope of mere seasons, educating him even further as he came to the experiential understanding of local weather patterns along with the dynamic power of wind, water and the unexpected.
On a small avocado orchard 270 feet above sea level in North Kohala his own home allows in an abundance of daylight and mindfully cohabits with the land. He named his home ‘Nalukea’, meaning ‘white wave’ in Hawaiian, after the powerful winter sea that blesses the northern shores of these islands. |
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The art of creating a space in which to live requires attention to the placement on the land, the form it will take, and the appropriate materials. The land is the place to begin, what does it ask for, in the same way that for a sculptor, the form will be revealed in the stone.
In John’s design process, the practical components are always influenced by the elements, rather than the Feng Shui concept, as he has understood from one practitioner, that dictates ‘the front door comes off the ocean’, even if inappropriate for the site.
His experience of camping on the land from April to December fueled John with the information on quite a visceral level, about where, what and how. He examined what has been done in the past by the people of these islands. He remembered what he had observed while living in Bali; that good tropical buildings breathe. They have a lung. A naturally ventilated home will mitigate tendencies to mold, and the sun-warmed concrete, so much like the stones used by the ancient Polynesians, serve as a heat-sink, providing warmth by night and cool by day.
Interior innovations, such as replacing the norm of wooden box drawers and solid shelving with wire or wood slats, provide space for airflow as well as discourage dead corners for the critters that share human dwellings. Even a closet must breathe. Doors that swivel on a central hinge provide airflow and yet behave in the wind. There are numerous details throughout his home that make sense in a tropical environment, rather than an established solution standardized for an entirely different set of demands.
On the South and West facing sides of the structure, a curved apron of walkway porch sits protected by the structure itself, away from wind, allowing out-of-door enjoyment year round.
A concrete slab on which the walls stand is thicker than ordinary floors. This thicker concrete, as much as 24” thick, acts as a thermal battery storing the day’s ambient heat and warmly radiates into the evening, balancing day and night temperature changes. Twenty-four inches into the earth is where we reach the Earth’s median temperature, which prevents moisture forming on the concrete floors even in the most rainy and humid period.
In John’s design process, the practical components are always influenced by the elements, rather than the Feng Shui concept, as he has understood from one practitioner, that dictates ‘the front door comes off the ocean’, even if inappropriate for the site.
His experience of camping on the land from April to December fueled John with the information on quite a visceral level, about where, what and how. He examined what has been done in the past by the people of these islands. He remembered what he had observed while living in Bali; that good tropical buildings breathe. They have a lung. A naturally ventilated home will mitigate tendencies to mold, and the sun-warmed concrete, so much like the stones used by the ancient Polynesians, serve as a heat-sink, providing warmth by night and cool by day.
Interior innovations, such as replacing the norm of wooden box drawers and solid shelving with wire or wood slats, provide space for airflow as well as discourage dead corners for the critters that share human dwellings. Even a closet must breathe. Doors that swivel on a central hinge provide airflow and yet behave in the wind. There are numerous details throughout his home that make sense in a tropical environment, rather than an established solution standardized for an entirely different set of demands.
On the South and West facing sides of the structure, a curved apron of walkway porch sits protected by the structure itself, away from wind, allowing out-of-door enjoyment year round.
A concrete slab on which the walls stand is thicker than ordinary floors. This thicker concrete, as much as 24” thick, acts as a thermal battery storing the day’s ambient heat and warmly radiates into the evening, balancing day and night temperature changes. Twenty-four inches into the earth is where we reach the Earth’s median temperature, which prevents moisture forming on the concrete floors even in the most rainy and humid period.
Out of the Box
Upon acquiring Nalukea in 1999, John and his wife, Padma, camped on the land and began their stewardship, while John honed in on where, what and how their house needed to be.
The journey from drawing board to shovel was full of challenges, learning curves and wonderful moments of joy and revelation. His actual first design, the beginning template, was made practically from the first moments of acceptance of their offer. The fine-tuning is what unfolded with time and the subsequent growing intimacy with the place they had chosen, or the place that had chosen them. As he began to carve out the details, more and more of the nature within the land and climate revealed itself.
In a world accustomed to boxes, there is a plethora of product and materials that serve only the ‘box.’ John has long outgrown the exclusive use for rectangular building and sees the curve as the perfect reflection of forms found in nature, including our own bodies. Humans like to gather in curves, in circles, around the campfire, in bunches, rather than in lines. The ‘round table’ is where everyone can be seen and heard. For this reason Nalukea is slightly curved, it embraces gatherings and events and to that end, has noticeably good acoustics.
From the pitch of the roof to the placement of openings, his house began to meet and embrace the subtle as well as more dramatic seasonal temperaments. This one-story, many-leveled, open-floor design flows with an ease and rhythm that is a comfort and joy to experience.
Twenty-seven concrete columns are set at angles to support the leaf-shaped umbrella roof. The interior spaces defined by glass or screens of shade cloth are used to create 20-foot walls. The home rises out of the roll of the hillside, integrated with the land that had been minimally graded. Comments by some ‘it is as if it simply grew out of the orchard.’ ‘When I am in your home, it is like walking through a forest.’
Not one of the six glass openings claims to be the front door, nor does it seem to matter, as they all serve equally as access ways. It is like a tree. Nalukea has no façade, no front or back, but appears as a sculpture, each side equally beautiful and surprising.
With the satisfaction of waking to this shelter they call home, and to the quality of light that greets them every morning, John and Padma know and appreciate the process, the work, and the experience that has given such a remarkable result.
The journey from drawing board to shovel was full of challenges, learning curves and wonderful moments of joy and revelation. His actual first design, the beginning template, was made practically from the first moments of acceptance of their offer. The fine-tuning is what unfolded with time and the subsequent growing intimacy with the place they had chosen, or the place that had chosen them. As he began to carve out the details, more and more of the nature within the land and climate revealed itself.
In a world accustomed to boxes, there is a plethora of product and materials that serve only the ‘box.’ John has long outgrown the exclusive use for rectangular building and sees the curve as the perfect reflection of forms found in nature, including our own bodies. Humans like to gather in curves, in circles, around the campfire, in bunches, rather than in lines. The ‘round table’ is where everyone can be seen and heard. For this reason Nalukea is slightly curved, it embraces gatherings and events and to that end, has noticeably good acoustics.
From the pitch of the roof to the placement of openings, his house began to meet and embrace the subtle as well as more dramatic seasonal temperaments. This one-story, many-leveled, open-floor design flows with an ease and rhythm that is a comfort and joy to experience.
Twenty-seven concrete columns are set at angles to support the leaf-shaped umbrella roof. The interior spaces defined by glass or screens of shade cloth are used to create 20-foot walls. The home rises out of the roll of the hillside, integrated with the land that had been minimally graded. Comments by some ‘it is as if it simply grew out of the orchard.’ ‘When I am in your home, it is like walking through a forest.’
Not one of the six glass openings claims to be the front door, nor does it seem to matter, as they all serve equally as access ways. It is like a tree. Nalukea has no façade, no front or back, but appears as a sculpture, each side equally beautiful and surprising.
With the satisfaction of waking to this shelter they call home, and to the quality of light that greets them every morning, John and Padma know and appreciate the process, the work, and the experience that has given such a remarkable result.
