Research house

When people wax lyrical about the house that “brings the outside in”, it usually involves a strategically placed potplant or two, and a few larger than average windows.

John Henry’s Research House goes far beyond this. Research House is very nearly a greenhouse, in the same vein as the classical Elizabethan glasshouse conservatory. Cantilevered gardens hang down over an internal waterfall and pond. The roof - usually one of the most solid structural elements - is deposed in favour of a translucent fibreglass covering, so that natural light floods in to nourish the internal gardens. Internal balconies and walkways are finished with a clear acrylic sheet which flies out over the waterfall, for the intentionally ‘daredevil’ sensation of walking on air.

This is a description which sounds fanciful - avant garde even - until one examines those Henry names as his inspirations. Henry’s inspiration for Research House has its roots in two key 1960s projects, the first being the multilevel platforms and lush interior greenery of Robin Boyd’s 1967 Featherston House. Henry’s second muse is his self-confessed passionate fascination with the work of late American architect Paul Rudolph, and more specifically, Rudolph’s Manhattan office from 1965 to 1968, with its brave ensemble of cantilevered platforms, balconies and hanging gardens. Guided by these muses, Henry transformed what is essentially a prefab farm shed kit into five storeys of sunny open space, like a nurturing greenhouse for its inhabitants, their art, and their classic furniture collection.

Speaking of ‘the tin shed’, as Henry famously described the project at last year’s Design Institute Interior Design Awards, the main shell of Research House is, in fact, a tin shed. The main< external covering is a farm shed kit structure, in galvanised corrugated iron, with plasterboard on the inner surfaces. The inherent sturdiness of such a form is of course offset by the semitransparent roof, and the massive industrial glazing system on the southern façade. Weightlessness is also insinuated in the way the flat floor level of the home projects out above the sloping ground of the site.

Of the internal ‘floating’ platforms, those which do not feature the ‘daredevil’ transparent flooring are constructed from Bondek concrete floors with an industrial epoxy coating, supported by steel legs and beam members. Two rotary vents circulate air and heat into and out of the open space, circulating air, warmth and cool into and out of the interior space, like a living, breathing creature.

With all this transparency, one might be forgiven for thinking that the ‘glasshouse’ connotations also imply solar overexposure and unsustainable climate control, but in fact, there is more to this ‘shed’ than meets the eye. The verdure of Research House is not just skin deep. The vast glazed aspects are carefully positioned to avoid the worst of the summer sun, and to opportunistically direct winter sunlight indoors. The roof structure is in fact protected by a translucent thermal blanket, which consists of a clear melanex impermeable barrier. All other building materials are generally of a low-energy production, the walls are fully insulated, and all the custom designed joinery and components are factory made, in a nod to another of Henry’s inspirations - the pre-fab concept homes of the 1950s (think Charles Eames, Pierre Koenig, Craig Ellwood and others).

Happily, affordability is a fringe benefit with this style of construction. The site was purchased in 1999 at a cost of $100,000 and the building has an area of approximately 220 square metres. Considering its rather dramatic scale, concept and interior design, the final construction bill was a relatively minute $300,000, including landscaping, swimming pools and the owner’s studio. This is also in part due to Henry’s own work ethos, and his close involvement in every project that comes through the firm. He has been quoted as saying that his hands-on approach “ensures the efficiency and cost-effectiveness of each project”.+

Previous. Open planning, split level rooms and hanging gardens are inspired by the radical architecture of the 1950s and 60s.

Top. Bold colour and live greenery sets off the stunning ‘whiteness’ of the space.

Second. Henry’s use of hanging gardens was inspired by Robin Boyd’s Featherston House and architect Paul Rudolph’s Manhattan office in the 1960s

Bottom. The fully-glazed front facade of the house creates an immense sense of openness, allowing light in during the day and out during the night.