A solid coastal home in Taranaki is shaped by patience, care and a belief in making things well for now — and for the long term.
From a distance, this house reads as robust and carefully formed. Two gabled volumes sit against an exposed stretch of Taranaki coastline beneath the mountain. Inside, that clarity is reinforced by performance. Cool, dry air. Muted acoustics. Walls with enough physical weight to shape both the architecture and daily life.
Designed by Boon Architects, with project architect Emily Batchelor, and built by Jeff Fairweather, the house is constructed almost entirely from rammed earth. That decision set the terms for everything that followed. The method demands precision and early commitment, but the outcome is a building with significant thermal mass, low waste and an internal consistency that conventional construction struggles to achieve.
For the owners, Justine and Jeremy, the appeal lay in balance, durability and expression. “We always knew we wanted something small and solid — something that would weather storms and last,” says Justine. “You see houses built, rot and get pulled down within twenty years, and we didn’t want to be part of that.”
An interest in building with durable, low-waste materials shaped the early conversations. Through their work with Jeff, rammed earth emerged as a viable construction system. It meant that every opening, junction and service needed to be resolved in advance, with reveals, lintels and roof connections built directly into the structure. When the formwork comes off, the result is final. “You put yourself out on a limb building like this,” says Jeremy. “I loved the design, but if it hadn’t functioned as a passive house, what would’ve been the point?”
Boon Architects were involved early, helping translate the constraints of the material into a clear architectural response. The V-shaped plan shelters the house from prevailing winds, while opening to winter sun east and west. Wall depth and orientation manage seasonal heat gain. “We had no idea how to start from a blank canvas,” says Jeremy. “Boon gave us something to respond to. From there, they helped refine the proportions, the plan, the volumes, and make sure the house would actually work as a passive design.”
With uninterrupted access to the coastline, the temptation to dissolve the house into glass was obvious. Instead, the structure holds together. Openings are limited and deliberate, treating rammed earth as the defining element, not a backdrop, allowing the landscape to be dominant without turning it into spectacle.
The results are convincing. The house maintains an internal temperature of around 20°C through winter without active heating and stays cool during peak summer days. Fireplaces are used mainly for ambience. The air remains consistently dry — a detail they notice daily. Washing left indoors is often dry by morning.
Living off grid reinforces their sense of awareness. Power, water and waste systems are designed to operate within clear limits. “We like that sometimes you have to pause,” says Jeremy. “If it’s a cloudy day, the washing can wait. It feels grounding to actually notice your inputs and outputs, rather than assuming everything is endless.”
At around 100m², the footprint is compact, but the interior never feels constrained. Volume is used carefully, particularly in the living space where a sunken lounge creates a sense of generosity, without adding area. Built-in elements, including concrete seating, a dining booth and the bed base, are formed as part of the architecture itself. “We wanted a house that was built for two people,” says Justine. “Not one that felt like a guesthouse once our kids left. It had to feel like it was for us, but still be generous when family and friends arrive.”
A mezzanine above the service spaces provides flexible accommodation, conceived more as a sleeping loft than a series of spare rooms. Elsewhere, the interior remains pared back. The rammed-earth walls are left exposed, their layered surfaces shifting subtly with light and weather. “It was surprisingly freeing to let go of so much,” says Justine.
“We realised we didn’t need most of it, and this house only really works because it isn’t fighting that — the walls are the feature.”
That honesty extends to the building process itself. During construction, the couple lived on site in a converted bus and were closely involved day to day. “Every wall reveal felt like Christmas morning,” remembers Justine. “You can’t change anything at that point, so there’s excitement and nerves every time the formwork comes off.”
For Jeff, that immediacy is central to the appeal of the method. Waste is kept to a minimum. Formwork timber is reused elsewhere in the build, leftover material becomes paths and hard landscaping, and reliance on long supply chains is reduced.
Over time, the land around the house is being shaped just as deliberately, with sheltering berms and planting designed to strengthen the connection between building, ground and climate. The house doesn’t dominate its site so much as settle into it.
The result is a home where form and function are inseparable. Robust, deliberate and materially confident, it makes a compelling case for building that values longevity and performance, without needing to announce those values at all.
Words Alice Lines
Photography Matt Quérée