Adam’s house in Par­adise, Laugier’s prim­i­tive hut, Violett-Le-Duc’s dome of tree branch­es, all are based upon the premise that archi­tec­ture came into being as an inter­pre­ta­tion of nature as land­scape and con­se­quent­ly, as a rep­re­sen­ta­tion of evo­lu­tion through man. Unique­ly, liv­ing room rep­re­sents nature sim­ply as a grav­i­ta­tion­al plane(t) on which we stand. The floor is grav­el, basalt, boul­ders, a dry-riv­er-bed, with­in which rests the dense, dark yel­low sand­stone rock, 4x6 m x 1.5m that weighs 42 tons. It includes inser­tions, small shell­fish, and sub­tle wave­forms. Its solid­i­ty address­es the para­dox of the indoor land­scape: sed­i­ment­ed in antecedents, “flu­id” before, quar­ried and trucked here.  It anchors the house, infer­ring hor­i­zon­tal­i­ty and per­ma­nence, with­in a per­fo­rate bound­ary of shel­ter and sky.

rock as ground

Artis­ti­cal­ly we found indoor land­scape effec­tive as soon as we dis­pensed with the organ­ic and adopt­ed the min­er­al, raw and tooled from the quar­ry, and with traces of weath­er­ing and death from its jour­ney through the mil­len­nia. With­out life, nature’s intrin­sic moral author­i­ty dimin­ish­es. The bru­tal sol­id coex­ists in equi­lib­ri­um with the whim­sy objects of archi­tec­ture and the arts.