The floor’s a tad off kilter and the ceiling might sag in places, but this Devonport villa is straight as a die when it comes to expressing the past, present and future of its ongoing story. When he was commissioned to renovate and then, some years later, extend the basement of this 1890s dwelling, architect Michael O’Sullivan’s attitude was to embrace the ‘messiness’ of how the layers came together over time. “He said, ‘Don’t fight it; just accept’,” says one of the homeowners.
Sallée in Lotti, that brings a sense of luxury to the space and picks up the tones of the Japanese maple in the back garden. ABOVE The hallway is lined in original kauri boards and a new archway at its end reflects an existing one mid-hallway. The ceiling in the stairwell is painted Resene Half Opal.
It was the decorative details and original materials that were put on a pedestal — not the planning. “If I were prime minister, every villa in Aotearoa would be dismantled and all the native timbers stripped of paint and hessian, then repurposed for a fresh domestic understanding of what a New Zealand home should be,” says Michael. Harsh.
Truth is, what existed was the usual scenario of smaller-scale rooms — a kitchen with no link to the garden; a formal lounge no one ever used — rather than the open-plan living Kiwis favour today. In the 1950s, and then the 1970s, bits had been added on. “Downstairs, there was a basement flat and a home office; it was dingy and accessed via an awkward, narrow stairwell,” says one of the owners.
This was not your quick-fix, knock-out-the-back type update. Working with Murray Long Builders, it progressed, slowly, in two stages over 15 years, first upstairs where the family, whose two daughters are now teenagers, wanted the space to accommodate them without feeling cramped; next the lower level, which would play host to parental visits from the UK for months at a time.
Situated down a secluded laneway where only single cars can pass, the bay villa, with its picket-fence perimeter, turns a traditional face to the street. That’s where the typical ends. Inside, it’s a celebration of craft, materials and colour. “It doesn’t try to be one of those houses that’s too perfect,” says the owner. “What was important to us was the feeling you get when you are in the spaces.”
The wide entry hallway that terminates in a graceful arch and a spacious new stairwell that leads to the lower floor is panelled with kauri planks that came out of the walls during renovations. “My husband and I spent weekends de-furring the rough-sawn timber with a wire brush,” says the owner.
Through in the expansive kitchen, living and dining space, a sun-yellow wall to the north, and matching yellow curtains, are a burst of happiness. Pale blue and citrus green feature too, a palette inspired by the two colour collections created by Le Corbusier. “My husband was dubious about the yellow at first, but it’s his favourite now,” says the owner.
Built-in window seating that runs around a bay is another place to relax and includes storage for books and magazines underneath. It continues as a banquette for the dining table, which is generous enough to welcome a crowd and has borne witness to the normal chaos of life for many years. Michael designed and crafted the wenge table himself: “I make a dining table for every family that understands the importance of it,” he says. “If I had the time, I would make all the furniture…for every home I do.”
ABOVE Vixel glass mosaics in Lima from Artedomus, a Progetto Buddy wall-mount mixer and a vanity with green marble top coordinate in the bathroom.
A juxtaposition of old and new, art and the artful, brings a haimish quality to the house. Original floorboards show the passage of decades, a pressed-tin frieze skirts the dining zone and the kitchen keys into a bygone vibe with cabinetry made from recycled rimu and a splashback of hand-glazed tiles in rustic brown.
Standing at the bench, the outlook is across rooftops and neatly trimmed hedges to the sea and an outline of Coromandel hills. Morning coffee on the new deck, which projects over the garden and celebrates the rising sun over the cone of North Head to the east, feels a million miles from the city.
Downstairs, past the slim-pane windows where the rufescent foliage of maples is echoed in a burgundy-toned carpet, there’s a more immediate connection to the garden. Timber salvaged from the Christchurch earthquakes lines the ceilings of a two-bedroom apartment here. Wooden shelves have been repurposed from beams in the original house, cork floors hark of a bach aesthetic and the kitchen boasts cheerful cabinet fronts in shades of yellow, mauve and green. “After all, we do live in the South Pacific, which is so full of vitality, colour and spontaneity,” says Michael, who had a hand in splashing this rainbow about.
This space readily morphs from teenage hangout (and has already played successful host to an 18th birthday party) to a quiet retreat for the rellies. “We put the island bench on castors so it can be wheeled out of the way when we bring out the table tennis,” explains one owner.
In summer, the pizza oven is ever on the go and in winter, a secluded area with a spa pool, fringed in flax, comes into its own. “It’s idyllic sitting in the spa as the tūī land on the harakeke.”
Volcanic rocks, found on site, have been used to trim plant beds around the lawn, while a dense hedge of olives was removed and replaced with a mix of plants that are more transparent and, somehow, more neighbourly.
When one of the owners’ mum visits from the rural outskirts of Hamilton, she always remarks on the surprising peacefulness of this slice of coastal suburbia and this house that feels at one with place. “It’s a really lovely home that sits in the garden with respect and dignity,” says Michael.
For their part, the owners enjoy the fact that the spaces are so flexible and designed to evolve. They understand this is just one more architectural chapter in the book of an ever-changing vernacular.
Words Claire McCall
Photography Sam Hartnett