In speaking of fire, a friend suggested we could use it to eliminate the myriad architectural atrocities around us, but that doesn’t seem like a workable idea. Rather we might want to expand upon the idea of the hearth as the heart of the home, and of the home more as shelter than ego. As stated in a recent issue of ORION, “[we must] evolve a culture suited to the limits of the Earth.” Examples of exceeding those limits abound.

As I write this, I’m looking at a construction site across the street. What had been for 30 years a simple, if homely, two bedroom, one bath, house has been transformed into a monstrosity. A porch and second bathroom, along with some needed structural upgrades, were added in the first phase. Not too bad. The second phase saw the addition of a two-story building with a two-car garage on the ground floor and guest quarters with a deck (a Northwest scourge) above. The current phase involves enclosing what had been the attached garage, raising the floor level to match that of the house, and creating yet another roof line in order to gain a higher ceiling for who knows what. The remodeled garage now includes a covered portico for an additional vehicle. Every square inch of buildable space on this lot is now covered. It’s a maze with no architectural integrity, no heart, no hearth and no sensitivity to the earth. Surely a candidate for pyrotechnics.

How much is enough? I live in a community where, among upper income people, guesthouses abound and sit empty most of the year, while small inns and bed & breakfast establishments struggle to survive and would welcome these “guests.” However, it is very challenging to talk people out of building unnecessary structures, which needlessly take up land and resources, divide and separate us, and do not foster gathering around the hearth. A healthy relationship with the earth demands the consciousness required to tend a fire. It also demands attention to air and water. The inextricable linkage. This photo of the hearth in a family home in the north of Sweden reminds us that simplicity meets these demands.

To educate is a responsibility of design professionals. Not accepting that responsibility, as fraught as it is with challenges, is a disservice to both client and profession. A good design centered around hearth simply works. The office tower is as much in need of the concept of hearth as is the tiny cottage. Although many of us do not have the skill of good designers, we sense when something is right, when something works. Living with good design changes lives.

Any definition of good design must include the intertwined elements of life: earth, air, fire and water. Without this inclusion, the designer is operating in a vacuum. These elements remain stubbornly out of our control and far too often, at our peril, are not considered either singly or collectively. Fire is perhaps the most easily comprehended. The curtain too close to the flame, the fuel carelessly stored, the tiny finger on the hot stove, the smoldering tree roots bringing the forest fire to our door. Lessons learned and not.

Sleek and modern or quaint and cozy, the concept of hearth serves as a point of departure, a point around which to gather and ground thoughts and ideas.