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.