Houzz Tour: Ramshackle Shed Makes Way for a Humble Beach House
Thoughtful in design and mindful of the Makorori Beach vibe, this welcoming bach suits its surfing family down to the ground
The owners of this house at Makorori Beach, 20 minutes north of Gisborne on the East Coast of New Zealand, have known architect Jeremy Smith a long time, and they’ve had the land a long time – the grandfather of one of the owners bought the land and built a little bach (beach house) on it some time after World War II.
Very little has changed in this ramshackle collection of houses in decades. There is the beach and the water, the steep hills and a tight-knit community: unlike many beachside settlements around New Zealand, many of the houses are occupied year round – everyone knows everyone, and they drift in and out of each other’s houses all summer long. There’s a shared beach-front esplanade for games of cricket and a skate ramp, and there’s the surf break across the road: the area is renowned for having some of the best east-coast breaks in the country.
Very little has changed in this ramshackle collection of houses in decades. There is the beach and the water, the steep hills and a tight-knit community: unlike many beachside settlements around New Zealand, many of the houses are occupied year round – everyone knows everyone, and they drift in and out of each other’s houses all summer long. There’s a shared beach-front esplanade for games of cricket and a skate ramp, and there’s the surf break across the road: the area is renowned for having some of the best east-coast breaks in the country.
When Smith came on board, the thing that struck him about Makorori was that it was one of the last places in New Zealand where the beach still felt like it was communally owned, and the houses were still small and ramshackle, collections of buildings and additions rather than large, singular houses. “You feel quite nostalgic going to Makorori,” says Smith. “It’s how a lot of New Zealand coast was before greater emphasis came on building on the front near the water, and having your own piece of paradise.”
There were several complications with having the property rebuilt, as Smith points out. “It’s complicated, it’s tiny, it has no services,” he says. “Everything about it is hard. And both times (the owners had consulted architects previously) it had come in more than they were prepared to spend.” Eventually, they called on Smith, an old friend based in Nelson – 500km away at the top of the South Island.
Smith is at pains to point out that cost was only part of the issue. Whatever they built, it had to be neighbourly and unpretentious – after decades spent in the bay, they knew almost everyone. The house needed to be open, casual and humble, but it still needed to be private – and it needed to function as a home year-round rather than a summer beach house. “Our approach was more about the community that they live in,” says Smith, “and solving what they needed to live there – and not any more.”
Smith is at pains to point out that cost was only part of the issue. Whatever they built, it had to be neighbourly and unpretentious – after decades spent in the bay, they knew almost everyone. The house needed to be open, casual and humble, but it still needed to be private – and it needed to function as a home year-round rather than a summer beach house. “Our approach was more about the community that they live in,” says Smith, “and solving what they needed to live there – and not any more.”
For practical reasons, Smith defined a space in the middle of the site that was suitable to build on – the site has some geotechnical issues, but he also wanted the house to be in line with its neighbours so that it didn’t stick out unduly, and he wanted to excavate as little of the site as possible.
He designed a collection of three black sheds around a courtyard, offsetting them slightly, so that the two smaller boxes – one at the back containing two bedrooms and one at the front with the kitchen – sat proud of a third, longer box containing a living room, bathroom and master bedroom. In between, connecting and defining the different sheds, are a series of decks.
He designed a collection of three black sheds around a courtyard, offsetting them slightly, so that the two smaller boxes – one at the back containing two bedrooms and one at the front with the kitchen – sat proud of a third, longer box containing a living room, bathroom and master bedroom. In between, connecting and defining the different sheds, are a series of decks.
The house is set half a level up, on a concrete block base that contains a small single-car garage – which is mostly used for surfboards. “Cars are pretty waterproof, anyway,” says Smith of the arrangement. Partly, the concrete block base was practical – it sets the house up well above the storm-surge level – and it makes the view better. But it also meant the interior of the house is just high enough that people walking along the road outside only get an oblique view of the place.
There is no front fence, and the house feels open and casual, encouraging visitors to drop by on a fine summer’s evening with a couple of beers. Visitors access the place via a set of stairs off the front lawn, and then across a deck that leads onto another deck, which leads into the living area. There isn’t really a front door.
There is no front fence, and the house feels open and casual, encouraging visitors to drop by on a fine summer’s evening with a couple of beers. Visitors access the place via a set of stairs off the front lawn, and then across a deck that leads onto another deck, which leads into the living area. There isn’t really a front door.
“Making everything read smaller was really important,” says Smith. “That, as much as anything, invited the house into the community.” The layered approach creates a distinct sense of privacy, without anyone really noticing. The long shed has its back to the driveway that runs up the side, while the bedrooms at the back run out to their own little deck and will eventually connect to a fourth shed. You don’t realise it when you get to the house, but you’re being taken on a bit of a meandering path, which provides that much-needed privacy. “By offsetting it we gave them this great big sequence of spaces,” says Smith. “You follow your nose diagonally through the living area to get to the outside space, and then diagonally again through to the bedrooms.”
In summer, you move through the house across and through courtyards and decks – the doors to the house stay open almost all of the time, and so the place feels much bigger than it really is. In winter, it closes down a little – it feels cosy and contained. Even then, though, “they’ve got places to go, which meant we could build a substantially smaller footprint.”
The sheds are clad in black corrugated aluminium on both the roof and the walls – a cost-effective solution for a house so close to the beach that won’t rust or degrade. Practicality aside, it’s a humble approach that harks back to the corrugated-iron baches of old.
The sheds are clad in black corrugated aluminium on both the roof and the walls – a cost-effective solution for a house so close to the beach that won’t rust or degrade. Practicality aside, it’s a humble approach that harks back to the corrugated-iron baches of old.
The interior of the house is deliberately pared back and simple – with a view like that, there’s no need for fireworks. “It’s really just honing down a set of similar buildings, which allows us a kind of efficiency in the building of it,” Smith says. “Everything about the spot is so beautiful that we were just trying to fashion a way of living in it. The colour’s all coming from outside.”
Building the house around these circulation spaces also meant Smith could define them with subtle changes of material and ceiling height. Anywhere that is a circulation space has a wooden ceiling: inside, that’s a Tasmanian oak ceiling – the same timber as used on the floor.
Building the house around these circulation spaces also meant Smith could define them with subtle changes of material and ceiling height. Anywhere that is a circulation space has a wooden ceiling: inside, that’s a Tasmanian oak ceiling – the same timber as used on the floor.
Outside, the timber continues with a series of slatted cedar pergolas, features the family is slowly saving up for and adding as they go. “Without even realising it, you follow timber,” Smith says of the thinking.
As well as that, anywhere that sunlight enters the building, Smith specified timber around the windows to subtly warm things up.
As well as that, anywhere that sunlight enters the building, Smith specified timber around the windows to subtly warm things up.
Other spaces – bedrooms, kitchen, living areas – have white plasterboard ceilings to match the walls. It’s a nice touch: the house expands and contracts both vertically and horizontally, though it also meant that Smith could make use of standard trusses in these areas rather than creating soaring ceiling heights.
There are white walls and simple materials including stainless-steel benches in the kitchen. There are three bedrooms but no ensuites: instead, Smith designed a sort of deconstructed bathroom, which includes a large room with a bath and a vanity, a room with a toilet, and a room with a shower. “It’s the same setup as I have at home,” he says of the arrangement, which makes one bathroom go much further for the family without adding substantial cost. “It’s about working out what’s important,” says Smith.
There are white walls and simple materials including stainless-steel benches in the kitchen. There are three bedrooms but no ensuites: instead, Smith designed a sort of deconstructed bathroom, which includes a large room with a bath and a vanity, a room with a toilet, and a room with a shower. “It’s the same setup as I have at home,” he says of the arrangement, which makes one bathroom go much further for the family without adding substantial cost. “It’s about working out what’s important,” says Smith.
The courtyard deck performs multiple functions. As well as being circulation and outdoor space, it also brings plenty of northern light into the living room – here, you can see how it makes a sheltered, warm spot in the middle of the house.
Once the design of the house was nearly complete, Smith sent them a model to explain how the place would work. At that point, the family was living a few doors down from their future home: the children sat down and mapped the house out at their old kitchen table so they could understand how it worked.
At the rear of the house, you can see a fourth shed, which wasn’t built for cost reasons but will be added as the family’s need for space grows. “That’s the other thing about the offset design,” says Smith. “It’s stageable. When we were getting out of the ground we had some inbuilt contingency.”
At the rear of the house, you can see a fourth shed, which wasn’t built for cost reasons but will be added as the family’s need for space grows. “That’s the other thing about the offset design,” says Smith. “It’s stageable. When we were getting out of the ground we had some inbuilt contingency.”
Here’s the plan, which shows clearly how the offset sheds in the house zig zag along the site in layers – a little bit, says Smith, like rolling sets of waves out to sea.
The view from the house is fabulous – from here, the family can see the surf breaks as they roll in. If the surf is up, the family comes home from school and work, drops their bags and changes into wetsuits, heading straight over the road for a surf.
“Everyone’s out enjoying it, and that’s what it should be about, really,” says Smith. “I think they’ve got it about right.”
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“Everyone’s out enjoying it, and that’s what it should be about, really,” says Smith. “I think they’ve got it about right.”
TELL US
What do you like about this house? Share your thoughts in the Comments.
Houzz at a Glance
Who lives here: A family of surfers with two children
Location: Makorori Beach, Gisborne, New Zealand
Architect: Irving Smith Architects
Year completed: 2014
The owners had wanted to rebuild the small, ramshackle bach their grandfather built for many years. “It was a little shed,” says Smith. “It couldn’t be a shed any longer – it was a failing shed. It had certainly tried.”
They had designs drawn up by two architects previously, but neither design stuck: the section is small and most of it is steep, and it has no services. It is very narrow and the view is to the south, with a driveway running up one side to houses behind. Sometimes in winter there’s a storm surge, which sends the water rushing over the dunes and across the road to the bottom of the land.