From the submitter:
If you’re not very fond of straight lines, you’re going to like it here.
Indeed. There’s nary a straight line nor edge to be found here.
Quite the interesting bedroom decor there, with the combination of the zebra-print sheets and… is that a clear plastic nightstand full of shredded paper?
Oh, hi there bird.
Um, what’s up guys?
And when off the set, Fred Flintstone would retreat to his desert abode, right next door to Wile E. Coyote and his dinner companions.
“Not straight lines” = “Someone had to form it” The amount of handcrafting in this home is awe inspiring. Even so, it all seems to grow out of the surrounding terrain. And Frank Lloyd Wright thought he’d perfected “organic architecture” at Taliesin West. Hardly.
One indication of organic style is the sense one is in a miniature Tuscan hill town (it’s the sub-group I’m familiar with, but not the only one). The entire home is a series of interconnected yet defined areas, interspersed with relatively constricted passageways, eventually opening to other vignettes and main living spaces, many with stunning vistas, and all following the contours of the land.
The best example is the stairway in Pic 36. The curve provides visual interest, creating a sort of “rising pathway.” Unlike a typical staircase, it can’t be filed away mentally as a basic building component and, thus, taken for granted. There’s also just a peak at the top of the next space to come. If you’ve never been in a Tuscan hill town, trust me – this stuff is catnip to the senses.
Another example is the stream-like corridor in Pic 25. It meanders a bit, with interesting features on “the shore” as one flows with the gentle current while gazing at the myriad patterns on the stream-bed.
The charm of the place comes from it seeming to be its own little world despite being tightly interwoven with the greater landscape. And really, how can it not be organic? It’s made out of the same stuff as the ground it sits on! (OK, OK… the tree trunks aren’t native… But they’re also not manufactured.)
The “special space” sense I’ve described is something most of us have experienced at least once in our lives. How can I be sure? It’s the same reason kids love to make pillow “forts.” Think about how cool it was being in your own little world, even though it was really only a subset of your larger world, and constructed out of familiar, comfortable parts of that world. And… there ya go! :D
Houses laid out like this retain an air of mystery as you never quite know what’s beyond the next turn. It’s a great environment for the imagination. And as much thought was given to the exterior as to the interior, which is rare.
Given the location, I’d want to install a back-up air conditioner and generator.
Dislikes: the ~$7 million price [ouch!], plus the fact that the cost of upkeep would pay the mortgage on a nice house in the city. Beyond that, the interior seems continuously busy; there aren’t enough places to relax your mind between all the exciting things there are to see.
@Frodo: I can easily see someone creating a full-size replica of the Flintstones’ car and parking it in the driveway… :-D
On the one hand, the rounded edges are nicer to walk into when wandering around distracted… on the other hand, one suspects one will be doing rather a lot of that. Solution? Listen to the smart folks: thin out the tchotchkes and install that back up generator to ensure good lighting and continuous climate control. Done! :D
@Paradox: I suppose different people enjoy different levels of mental stimulation. But that was the thing about Tuscan hill towns – there were a million details, large and small, all around me, filling my experience-meter to the top, yet I distinctly remember a sense of cohesiveness between them, as well as between myself and all of them as a set. One can tolerate high level stimulation – and enjoy it – if there is some organizing principle, some factor in common in play.
I’m reminded of the music of J.S.Bach. He uses the same set of notes every other Western composer does, but in myriad combinations that are unique. Despite the complexity of his compositions, the result is often quite relaxing, I suspect because the overall structure provides a framework for the complexity, leaving the listener to float in the ocean of auditory fusion rather than struggling to make sense of it.
I get that one needs periodic breaks from Bach, or any other type of great composition. For myself, looking back through all the listing pics I found gazing at the landscape to be highly relaxing. The expansive horizon, the limited color palette, the unifying sky… My thoughts can range as far as my eye – and beyond. The same phenomenon occurs in Tuscany.
However, perhaps an interior place or two that’s calmer would help set and maintain the calm. But when it’s time to leave that mental space, to re-engage, I love the idea of having my own little world, as stimulating as the world at large, right at my fingertips. :)