Architecture
07/05/2026
This project seems quite the manifestation of your brilliant photographic essays in Slacklands and Slacklands 2. Was it intention or opportunity?
C. It’s a good question and I think it was a bit of both. There was definitely intention in our search for a site. The industrial nature and the exposed frames and the collection of buildings were very alluring. When I’m looking for projects for Slacklands, I’m always interested in these different typologies and how they’re designed around function. But opportunities like these come with challenges. When you see an appealing building and you start to conceive of it as a house, then you inevitably face, not so much constraints, but difficult decisions to make it comfortable.
We have had the pleasure of visiting and being involved in the sale of some of your previous projects. Is there a particular discipline that threads through your work or is each project a response to the environment?
M. Well, The Drift was different from any other. Perhaps this is an admission, but I always design for change. And in the process, try to make as few static decisions as possible. I was watching a program that Charlie Luxton put out way back, in which he visited our Islington project on Orleston Mews. He pointed out during that documentary that I had changed the kitchen three times.
I suppose working with Richard Rogers for so long enforced that idea of flexibility; a structure with non-load-bearing walls that can be moved, or floors removed, which we did at Orleston.
Here, we could have made it more cellular but for our purposes, we strove for generosity of space.
I remember being asked by the London Chamber Orchestra to give a tour of Frame House for some of their students, and their assignment was to write a piece of music based on the architecture. I love the idea of architecture being ordered or abstracted like musical bars. Consider the order of the Manhattan grid or Glasgow for that matter, with Broadway or Field Road dancing through it. Perhaps I’m grid-obsessed. But not in the orderly way of Mies van der Rohe where a chair has a definitive place. I’m not about that, but I appreciate the order of structure and flexibility within a framework. That runs through all my projects.
Being confronted with a series of agricultural barns in various conditions would be a daunting prospect for most. What did you see in them and their surroundings?
M. I think with any building, no matter how brilliant or beautiful it is, the wider context is always important. I think the setting here struck us. There’s a narrative about the farm buildings here; the old barn that became redundant, the new sheds that replaced its purpose, and the row they all form. And the horse pond and landscape beyond, the trees, fields and shrubs. I think Corinna should take a lot of credit for recognising that.
We also inherited a lot of concrete, which people pay a lot of money to put down in other circumstances. It’s quite brutal, but that encouraged us to think about how we could work with it from a landscaping perspective, but also appreciating its usability.
Actually, the way we discovered these barns was by googling ‘derelict barns’! The commonly held view was that they should be demolished (with the exception of the barn). But, it’s an exciting shift of approach; what Corinna has coined as ‘agri-industrial’. Keeping rather than demolishing. We could have taken the roof off to invite more light, but we have more than enough, and it allowed us to build in factory conditions, protected from the elements by the existing structure.
Is there a film, song or painting that evokes, aligns with or defines your creativity?
M. The Fountainhead, which was a book by Ayn Rand and turned into a film starring Gary Cooper. I think a lot of architects love the story. The protagonist is a young architect, Howard Roark, who is very against convention and commerciality. I suppose I identify with that non-conformity. It has some great scenes.
Also the film My Architect by Nathaniel Kahn, son of Louis Kahn. It was a brilliant film and very touching. I identified with it because my father was also an architect. The film was very powerful. Kahn was one of the most brilliant architects of his time; an Estonian-born American who died bankrupt. It was inspiring yet moving. I’ve always followed his work. He talked about ‘structuring light’, and I’ve always liked that idea of architecture as a sculpture you walk through.
C. The Ice Storm by Ang Lee. I choose that because the weather is a central component of the story, triggering a very sad event. But perhaps it’s the contrast of the characters living in these 70’s interiors, the colours and texture, against this backdrop of extreme weather, which becomes a central character in itself.
What’s your favourite small object from home, why, and what does it mean to you?
C. I have little wooden bear that has followed me around for a long time. I bought it when I was about six in Bern, Switzerland, and over the years I have continued to enjoy the way it was made and its rough-chiseled effect.
M. I have two; my father had this beautiful Danish objet d’art, a miniature yacht shaped from timber that I really treasure. I almost lost it when my father died but I managed to rescue it.
Favourite place to visit if you are lacking inspiration?
C. If I need it in the moment, a place that’s easy to get to, like Walthamstow Wetlands.
M. I would probably say the Isle of Mull because it’s so different and there is so much space. But London’s galleries always offer something.
Can you think of a design trend that you used to dislike, but now love?
M. Split-level living was probably something I didn’t fully embrace in my early career, but I think it offers drama and a connection between levels. I’m actually working on a big office project in Madrid at the moment, and we are applying that split-level concept to these six-storey blocks. That staggering of levels can be so much more interesting.
C. For me, not any particular movement, but features that I now really appreciate are things like stripped pine, or serving hatches, dumb waiters.
If you could live in any building, which would it be?
M. Probably the Hopkins House in Hampstead. I mean, I’d happily live in the Eames House or Falling Water, but I would want to be in London.
C. I’m sure there are others, but I’d love to live in Maison à Bordeaux.
Favourite flora?
C. Carrot flower, or wild carrot as it’s sometimes called. It’s like cow parsley but has a thicker coverage. We have lots here.
