When people dream of building a community, a village, or even just a better way of living together, the focus often goes first to what’s visible: houses, gardens, water systems, roads. These are the physical bones of a place. But what holds a community together is not just infrastructure. It’s the space between people—the care, communication, and mutual understanding that shape daily life. This is the work of social permaculture.

Social permaculture takes the principles of ecological permaculture and applies them to people. Where traditional permaculture might focus on water flow, sunlight, and soil health, social permaculture looks at how trust flows, how roles and responsibilities are shared, and how the culture of a place is nurtured over time. It’s not just about building structures—it’s about designing for belonging.

From Survival to Growth: A Human-Centered LensOne helpful way to think about these needs is through the lens of human motivation. Psychologist Scott Barry Kaufman, building on the work of Abraham Maslow, offers a metaphor that can be useful here. Instead of thinking of human needs as a pyramid, he proposes the image of a sailboat.

The boat itself represents our basic security needs: safety, connection, and self-esteem. These form the foundation of stability. Without a sturdy boat, we can’t set out into the unknown.

The sail represents our needs for growth: exploration, love, purpose, and creativity. With a strong boat, we’re free to raise the sail and move toward fulfillment.

In community design, this metaphor reminds us that belonging and growth depend on meeting the basics first. If someone doesn’t feel physically safe, emotionally supported, or seen, they won’t have much capacity for creative contribution or collaboration. The foundation matters.

What Does That Look Like in a Village?Social permaculture helps us think through how we meet these needs intentionally, and how we do so together—not just as individuals.

Safety
Safety isn’t only about physical structures. It’s also emotional. In a well-designed community, people know:

• Where to sleep
• How to get food and water
• Who to call on if they’re sick
• That there’s a clear and fair process if conflict arises

This is what the sailboat metaphor would call building the hull. Without it, no one can sail anywhere.
In traditional villages, this safety was built into daily rhythms: regular meals, collective care for children and elders, simple but consistent rules about how to treat one another. Safety didn’t have to be policed—it was practiced.

Connection
Social permaculture teaches us to make space for connection as infrastructure. That means:

• Designing places where people naturally gather (shared kitchens, walkways, gardens)
• Having rituals—daily, weekly, seasonal—that bring people together
• Encouraging peer-to-peer support, not just formal roles
  
  

Villages thrive when people are regularly visible to each other. Connection isn’t forced—it’s built through small moments, shared meals, and working side by side.

Self-worth
This comes when people feel they have something to contribute—and that their contribution is seen and valued.
One person might be great at organizing tasks, another at fixing tools, another at calming an upset child. Social permaculture helps communities recognize these contributions, beyond just economic productivity.

Roles can rotate. Gifts can be encouraged. Power can be shared.

Raising the Sail: Designing for GrowthOnce those foundational needs are met, the sail can be raised. In a community, this is where we see:

• People offering ideas and taking initiative
• Creativity in problem-solving
• Space for play, art, and beauty
• Conversations about shared purpose

Social permaculture helps hold this growth gently. It’s not about productivity for its own sake. It’s about giving people the freedom to explore, within a structure of mutual care.
In traditional villages, the sail was raised through story, dance, celebration, and ceremony. These weren’t “extras.” They were part of keeping the village whole—reminding people who they were, and who they were becoming.

Starting from Zone 0
In permaculture, Zone 0 is the self. Social permaculture reminds us that any strong community must begin here.
Designing for Zone 0 might mean:

• Building in time for rest and retreat
• Respecting different energy levels or communication styles
• Encouraging self-awareness and personal reflection
• Teaching skills like listening, boundary-setting, and emotional regulation

This isn’t just “personal development.” It’s community resilience. A group is only as strong as the people within it. When individuals feel grounded and supported, the whole system benefits.

What We Can Learn from Traditional Villages
Before we had zoning laws and masterplans, communities were shaped by necessity and relationship. Villages grew around water sources, under shade trees, along trade routes. They responded to the land, the climate, and to the patterns of human life.

Social infrastructure was embedded, not outsourced. People didn’t have to join a program to feel connected—they were the program.

From this we can learn:

• To start small and local
• To build around daily rhythms, not schedules
• To design for real human needs, not abstract ideals

And most importantly, to see culture not as a side product, but as something we design for, just like we do with water catchment or energy flow.

Moving from Isolation to InterdependenceMany people today are lonely. Even those in cities or shared housing often lack meaningful connection. Social permaculture helps us ask why—and offers a framework for rebuilding interdependence with care.
It gives us tools to think about:

• How people enter a community and find their place
• What helps people feel safe enough to be honest
• How conflict can become compost, not a crisis
• How to hold difference with respect and curiosity

It reminds us that sustainability is not just about carbon or compost. It’s about whether people want to stay.

A Simple Starting PlaceYou don’t need to start a village to use social permaculture. You can start where you are:

• Have a regular meal with neighbors or housemates
• Create a shared ritual that marks the season
• Ask what people really need, and how to meet it together
• Build small agreements—about space, noise, care, cleanup—and adjust them over time

Communities don’t fail because of ideals. They often fail because of invisible needs not being met. Social permaculture helps us see those needs and respond early, before disconnection sets in.

In the End​This also helps explain why resorts, even the most beautiful and well-designed ones, cannot sustain true relational living. Resorts are built for escape, not entanglement. They often prioritize privacy, consumption, and aesthetic appeal over shared infrastructure, mutual care, and social rhythm. While they may offer short bursts of relaxation, they rarely support the deeper systems—shared meals, conflict repair, collective purpose—that are required for lasting community. To live well together, we need more than just elegant spaces. We need a transformation in how we design for relationship. That means moving beyond resort models and reimagining what a village can be—where the architecture holds not only bodies, but belonging.

Several key principles underpin relational urbanism. These principles guide urban planners in their efforts to create inclusive, sustainable communities.

First and foremost, collaboration is essential. This means involving various stakeholders, including residents, businesses, and local organizations, in the planning process. Engaging the community ensures that their needs and perspectives are considered, leading to more relevant and effective solutions.

Adaptability is another crucial principle. Urban environments must be designed to respond to changing conditions, whether social, economic, or environmental. This adaptability can manifest in flexible land-use policies, mixed-use developments, and the incorporation of green infrastructure that can evolve over time.

Lastly, sustainability is at the heart of relational urbanism. This principle encourages planners to prioritize ecological health alongside social and economic considerations. By integrating sustainable practices, such as renewable energy, waste reduction, and water conservation, urban spaces can become more resilient to environmental challenges while enhancing the quality of life for residents.

Incorporating these principles into urban planning enables cities to thrive in an increasingly complex and interconnected world.

Systems thinking plays a pivotal role in relational urbanism, providing a framework for understanding the complexities of urban environments. It encourages planners to view cities as open systems that interact with their surroundings and adapt to internal and external changes.

This perspective emphasizes the importance of feedback loops—where the outcomes of certain actions can influence future decisions. For example, implementing a new public transportation system can lead to reduced traffic congestion, which, in turn, might encourage more people to utilize public transit. Understanding these dynamics allows urban planners to create interventions that promote positive outcomes across multiple domains.

Moreover, systems thinking highlights the significance of holistic design. Rather than isolating individual elements of urban planning, this approach fosters an integrated view. For instance, planners can address transportation, housing, and green spaces as interconnected components of a larger urban ecosystem. This integration helps identify synergies and opportunities for collaboration, ultimately leading to more sustainable and efficient urban environments.

As cities grapple with the challenges of urbanization, incorporating systems thinking into planning processes will be crucial for developing resilient, adaptable communities.

Indigenous knowledge offers valuable insights that can enrich the practice of relational urbanism. Many indigenous cultures have long understood the importance of living in harmony with nature, emphasizing stewardship and respect for the environment. By integrating these perspectives into urban design, planners can create spaces that are not only functional but also culturally meaningful and ecologically sustainable.

Incorporating indigenous knowledge involves recognizing the relationships that local communities have with the land. This can manifest in various ways, such as using native plants in landscaping, preserving sacred sites, and ensuring that water resources are managed sustainably. By valuing these cultural connections, urban planners can foster a sense of belonging and pride among residents, contributing to social cohesion.

Furthermore, engaging indigenous communities in the planning process helps ensure that their voices are heard and respected. This collaborative approach can lead to innovative solutions that blend traditional wisdom with contemporary practices, ultimately resulting in more resilient urban environments. Integrating indigenous knowledge into urban design is essential for creating inclusive, sustainable communities that honor both cultural heritage and ecological integrity. It is about returning to our human roots and evaluating what it means to live in community, drawing from our collective pasts to look to the future. ​

Social equity is a critical aspect of relational urbanism. This approach emphasizes the need to create inclusive urban environments where all residents have equal access to resources, opportunities, and decision-making processes. By addressing social disparities, planners can foster more resilient and cohesive communities.

One way to promote social equity is by engaging marginalized groups in the urban planning process. This can involve organizing workshops, community forums, or surveys to gather input from residents who often feel excluded from decision-making. By amplifying these voices, planners can better understand the unique challenges faced by various communities, ensuring that their needs are considered in future developments.

Additionally, relational urbanism encourages the creation of diverse housing options that cater to different income levels. This inclusivity can be achieved through policies that support affordable housing initiatives, mixed-use developments, and community land trusts. By fostering diverse neighborhoods, cities can prevent segregation and promote social interactions among residents from varying backgrounds.

Ultimately, integrating social equity into the principles of relational urbanism is essential for creating cities that truly serve all inhabitants. By prioritizing inclusive practices and equitable access to resources, urban planners can build environments that enhance community well-being and resilience.

Challenges in Adopting Relational UrbanismWhile the benefits of relational urbanism are evident, several challenges can hinder its implementation. One major obstacle is the fragmentation of governance in urban areas. Many cities are governed by multiple agencies, each with its own priorities and objectives. This fragmentation can lead to conflicting policies and hinder collaborative efforts essential for successful relational urbanism.

Additionally, funding poses another significant challenge. Urban projects often require substantial financial investments, and securing funding can be difficult. This issue is exacerbated when proposals lack clear metrics for measuring success. Without robust data to demonstrate the potential benefits of relational urbanism, securing support from stakeholders may prove challenging.

Another challenge lies in cultural resistance to change. Communities accustomed to traditional planning methods may be hesitant to embrace new approaches that prioritize interconnectedness and collaboration. Overcoming this resistance requires effective communication and engagement strategies that educate residents about the potential benefits of relational urbanism.

Despite these challenges, cities can develop strategies to overcome these barriers. Fostering strong partnerships among stakeholders, securing diverse funding sources, and actively engaging communities in the planning process can pave the way for successful implementation of relational urbanism.

Creating adaptive and resilient communities is a core tenet of relational urbanism. As cities face increasing challenges, such as climate change, economic fluctuations, and social inequality, the ability to adapt is crucial for long-term sustainability.

One approach to fostering adaptability is through flexible land-use policies. These policies allow for the repurposing of spaces in response to changing community needs. For instance, vacant buildings can be transformed into community centers, while underutilized parks can be redesigned to accommodate various activities. By embracing flexibility, urban planners can ensure that their designs remain relevant and responsive to the evolving needs of residents.

Furthermore, resilience is enhanced through the incorporation of green infrastructure. This includes elements such as rain gardens, green roofs, and permeable pavements that manage stormwater and improve urban ecosystems. By investing in these features, cities can better withstand environmental challenges while simultaneously enhancing the aesthetic and ecological quality of urban spaces.

Engaging communities in the planning process also plays a vital role in building resilience. By encouraging local participation, residents develop a sense of ownership and investment in their neighborhoods. This engagement fosters social ties and encourages collective action, making communities more resilient in the face of challenges.
Ultimately, creating adaptive and resilient communities requires a multifaceted approach that prioritizes flexibility, ecological health, and community engagement. By integrating these elements, cities can evolve into thriving urban environments that are well-equipped to navigate future challenges.

Aesthetic values play a significant role in relational urbanism, influencing how community members perceive and interact with their environments. Beautiful urban spaces enhance the quality of life by fostering a sense of pride and belonging among community members. By prioritizing aesthetics in urban design, planners can create spaces that inspire connection and engagement.

Incorporating artistic elements into urban spaces can elevate the visual appeal of a city. Public art installations, sculptures, and murals not only beautify neighborhoods but also serve as platforms for cultural expression and storytelling. These artistic expressions can reflect the community's identity, fostering a sense of pride and ownership among residents.

Moreover, designing public spaces that prioritize nature enhances the overall aesthetic experience. Incorporating greenery, water features, and natural materials into urban design creates environments that promote relaxation and well-being. Studies have shown that exposure to nature positively impacts mental health and encourages social interactions, ultimately contributing to a higher quality of life. Recognizing the beauty in urbanism is essential for creating engaging and vibrant urban spaces. By prioritizing aesthetics and artistic expression, planners can foster connections among residents and cultivate a sense of community that enhances overall well-being.

What is relational urbanism?
Relational urbanism is an urban planning approach that emphasizes the relationships between people, their environments, and the broader community. It prioritizes social interactions, ecological sustainability, and community engagement to create inclusive and resilient urban spaces.

How does relational urbanism promote sustainability?
By integrating green infrastructure, fostering community participation, and prioritizing ecological health, relational urbanism promotes sustainable practices that enhance urban resilience and reduce environmental impact.

What role does community engagement play in relational urbanism?
Community engagement is crucial in relational urbanism. It empowers residents to participate in decision-making processes, ensuring that urban developments meet their needs and reflect their values.

Can you provide examples of cities that have successfully implemented relational urbanism?
Cities like Melbourne and Curitiba exemplify successful relational urbanism through initiatives that prioritize community well-being, sustainability, and inclusive design practices.

How does relational urbanism address social equity?
Relational urbanism promotes social equity by engaging marginalized communities in planning processes, creating diverse housing options, and ensuring equal access to resources and opportunities for all residents.

What are the main challenges in adopting relational urbanism?
Challenges include fragmentation of governance, funding constraints, and cultural resistance to change. Overcoming these obstacles requires effective collaboration among stakeholders and a commitment to community engagement.



Relational urbanism presents a transformative approach to urban planning that prioritizes community, sustainability, and systems thinking. By emphasizing relationships among residents, their environments, and the broader social fabric, this framework fosters resilient and inclusive spaces.

As communities face mounting challenges, such as climate change and social inequality, adopting relational urbanism becomes increasingly vital. Through collaborative efforts, flexible policies, and a commitment to aesthetics, urban planners can create environments that enhance well-being and promote connection among residents.

Ultimately, relational urbanism is not just about designing spaces; it's about cultivating relationships that enrich our lives and communities. By embracing this holistic approach, cities can evolve into vibrant and sustainable urban ecosystems that nurture both people and the planet. Its applications are wide, ranging from the design of intergenerational housing, co-housing initiatives, villages, towns and urban developments.

A village is not merely a collection of houses; it is a living structure that has evolved over time, shaped by the hands and footsteps of its people. Villages emerge organically, responding to their natural environment, social needs, and cultural traditions. They are dense with meaning and adaptation, rather than imposed from a master plan. In contrast to modern developments, where zoning laws, road layouts, and parceling dictate form, villages follow patterns that have stood the test of time. These patterns—rooted in geography, climate, and human interaction—ensure that a village is not just a place of residence, but a functioning, enduring system of life.

In Christopher Alexander's: A Pattern Language, he describes patterns that make settlements work: "Access to Water" (#25), "Activity Nodes" (#30), "Small Public Squares" (#61). These patterns are universal. Villages emerge where people gather around natural features—rivers, forests, fertile land—allowing them to sustain life harmoniously with the world around them. Unlike towns or cities, villages are not planned from a distance. They grow organically, shaped by daily habits, spiritual needs, and social bonds. Their success lies in their adaptability, human-scale design, and respect for the land.

A well-functioning village is an interconnected system, balancing individual autonomy with communal support. In traditional Indian villages, as described in his other book: The Determination of Components of an Indian Village, settlements are arranged in concentric zones of activity: the core serves as a marketplace and social hub, while homes, farmland, and forests radiate outward. This ensures that essential needs—food, water, shelter, and community—are met within walking distance, fostering self-sufficiency. These village structures mirror patterns seen in Balinese Subak systems, where rice terraces are organized around water temples that coordinate irrigation. The success of these villages lies not only in their physical design but in the rituals, customs, and shared governance that sustain them.
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In contrast, many modern developments are dictated by economic efficiency and land division, breaking the deep, reciprocal relationship between people and place. When we ignore natural topography, hydrology, and social patterns, we create environments that are fragile, disconnected, and prone to failure—a stark difference from villages that have endured for centuries.

A resort may look like a village, but its essence is different. While a resort is crafted for escape, privacy, and seclusion, a village is inherently relational, built upon social bonds and shared experience. A resort is designed from the outside in—a static vision imposed upon the landscape—whereas a village grows organically from within, shaped by its inhabitants. Resorts often flatten the natural terrain, erase old pathways, and introduce structures that prioritize commerce over community. While a resort may foster temporary connection, it lacks the intricate layers of meaning, history, and adaptability that make a village truly alive.

Resilience is not found in rigid masterplans but in patterns that foster flexibility and continuity. In Thailand, successful villages embrace water-oriented planning, recognizing the rhythm of the monsoon seasons. The pattern "Raised Walkways" (#36) ensures safe passage through flooded areas, while "Network of Paths and Cars" (#52) keeps transportation adaptable rather than rigid.

Resilient villages also honor modular growth—not through zoning laws, but through incremental expansion that respects existing social ties. Homes are built close enough for conversation but far enough for privacy. Workspaces blend seamlessly into the village fabric. The pattern "House Cluster" (#37) ensures people do not live in isolation but remain within reach of neighbors and shared spaces. This is in conflict for the design of a resort.
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A critical element of resilience is land stewardship. In traditional Indian and Balinese villages, land is not treated as a commodity to be subdivided and sold, but as a shared resource managed through communal agreements and ecological principles. This is evident in the Subak system, where water management and land use are coordinated among villagers, ensuring that agriculture, housing, and social life exist in harmony rather than competition.

If we seek to create new communities—ones that are both modern and rooted in wisdom—we must listen to the land, respect time-tested patterns, and allow places to grow rather than be imposed. A village is not a blueprint; it is a conversation between people and place, a living system that must be nurtured, not merely designed.

Designing successful new villages requires starting with the essential patterns of life. This means prioritizing shared spaces, ecological integration, and self-sufficiency rather than simply replicating architectural styles. One of the key failures of planned developments is that they often focus on aesthetics rather than the underlying social and environmental logic that makes villages successful.

A key element is gradual, participatory growth. Villages do not emerge overnight. They are built through layers of activity and adaptation, allowing inhabitants to shape them over time. A village should begin with a core of shared infrastructure—a market, a gathering space, a water source—around which homes and workspaces naturally cluster. As the community grows, expansion should be organic, following established paths rather than arbitrary zoning.

Successful villages maintain a balance between private and collective life. The best villages are not just about individual homes; they provide spaces for gathering, for work, for reflection, and for connection with nature. Traditional patterns like courtyards, shaded pathways, and communal kitchens ensure that human interaction remains at the heart of the village structure.
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By respecting these time-tested patterns—rather than imposing rigid plans—we can create new villages that are not just livable, but resilient, enduring, and deeply connected to both the land and the people who inhabit them.

In community design, the most effective solutions don’t start with drawing—they start with listening. True systems thinking requires a deep understanding of the interwoven social, ecological, and historical factors that shape a place.
Listening is how we uncover these complexities before making design decisions that impact people’s lives.

Listening as a Tool for Exploration
In the early stages of design, divergent thinking helps us explore a broad range of possibilities. By actively listening—to residents, cultural traditions, natural landscapes, and historical patterns—we begin to see a place as more than just a physical environment. It’s a dynamic system, influenced by past decisions, evolving needs, and unseen relationships.
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Listening at this stage means absorbing stories, observing movement patterns, and identifying overlooked voices. This allows a fuller picture of the system to emerge.

Listening for Decision-Making
As ideas take shape, convergent thinking helps us refine them into practical, effective solutions. Listening becomes even more critical here. What are the real needs of a community? Where can a small intervention have the greatest impact? What unintended consequences might arise?

Rather than imposing an abstract vision, we test ideas through dialogue, iterating based on community feedback and environmental realities.

Listening to People—and Place
In community design, listening extends beyond human voices. The land itself speaks—through water flow, biodiversity shifts, wind patterns, and seasonal changes.

By paying attention to these natural systems, we align our designs with ecological intelligence rather than working against it. A truly sustainable community is one that listens not only to its people but also to the rhythms of the environment.

From Understanding to Action
Listening is the bridge between understanding a system and shaping it. When done well, it ensures that our architectural interventions are context-sensitive, inclusive, and adaptive rather than imposed or rigid.

At OTO Group, we believe that great design begins with listening. By embracing systems thinking, we create places that are not only functional and beautiful but also deeply rooted in the needs of both communities and the environment.

If you’re looking to build with meaning, let’s start with a conversation.

Passive House (also known as Passivhaus where it originated in Germany) is an international method or technical standard of designing and constructing a building to achieve a very high level of energy-efficiency (with little or no heating or cooling required). Passivhaus buildings are the most comfortable, healthy, durable and efficient buildings in the world

It is similar in concept to solar passive heating, letting sun in to warm dense parts of a building such as a concrete floor. However it builds upon this and is an overall or holistic approach to the entire climate and wellbeing of a home.

It is a method of designing and thinking, perfect for any climate in Aotearoa wether it be cool and dry or damp and warm. A common misconception is that passive-house standards are not applicable in warmer parts of our country. This is not true as a proper passive house is dry, cool when it needs to be and healthy. 

It is not an architectural style, but more concerned with the building science of how the building is put together and how it performs - and has a rigourous and robust thermal-modelling to ensure quality-assurance of the result. This means you are not really restricted by how you want your home to look and feel but there are some overall design principles to keep in mind.


A home is one of the largest investments we will make, and we're finding more and more people want a home that will last lifetimes and look after its occupants while avoiding costly yearly upkeep. The passivhaus thermal modelling has been proven to be very accurate in terms of understanding heating and cooling requirements, in addition to ensuring high quality indoor environment (healthy air quality with low C02 levels, ideal temperature and humidity levels, and no condensation/mould-growth) - all with minimal heating/cooling requirements and savings.\
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It is a science driven approach to building health modelling which means it is clear to prove if it works or not. There is no hiding behind vague green star ratings.


Courtesy of Hans Jorn-Eich, here a 90 second explainer of these concepts:

THE BASIC ELEMENTS OF A PASSIVHAUS:

1. Highly insulated building envelope. This is to walls, roof and floor - so the building is like a thermos where the inside climate is separate from what is happening outside.
2. Great windows. In our climate, high-quality and well sealed double-glazed windows should suffice, sometimes triple-glazing is preferable. Windows are the weakest point in the thermal envelope of your building - we don't want to compromise on these.
3. Airtight envelope. If you have gaps in your building, it is like trying to have a warm bath without the plug in - you have to constantly keep filling it up with more hot water! We want to control how air enters and exits our buildings. A draughty home is the standard in New Zealand, and well sealed but poorly designed homes are the exception. A passive house lets air move where we want it to move to ensure a healthy, dry and warm home.
4. Solar orientation. Passive Solar Design Principles that are fundamental to all our projects – allow for northern solar gain in winter, and shade windows to prevent hot summer sun from entering house. We are always careful to balance the harsher afternoon light while letting in winter morning sun as soon as possible. 
5. Controlled Ventilation. An air-tight building still needs fresh air - but it must be controlled - no leaky drafts and air gaps all over the place. You can still open in windows in a Passive House, but also a low-energy and highly-efficient mechanical ventilation system is required to ensure fresh air circulates throughout the building.
6. Elimination of Thermal Bridges. This is one of the most ignored issues with current buildings - especially with steel/aluminium framing that conducts heat/cold through the building fabric - particularly aluminium-framed windows! Construction details are important here. Where there is a difference of temperature, condensation forms and has the possibility to create mold. 
7. Form Factor. Consideration of size and shape of the building. Less surface areas of walls means less surface area for heat to escape. Conversely, more surface area towards the sun in hotter climates means overheating issues. Designing with the climate in mind is the first step in the right direction. 

Passivhaus aims for a comfortable indoor air temperature between 20-25 degrees celsius all year round, and uses 60% to 90% less energy for heating/cooling than a 6 star house. It is a life-cycle costing approach - so although it will cost a bit more up front in construction costs (while passivhaus is still new in New Zealand), it will have reductions in the cost of heating/cooling building for over 60 years (not to mention the amount of carbon emissions saved). It is worthwhile to note that energy to heat and cool is still the MOST energy consumed over a building's lifetime - much more so than the embodied energy of the construction materials.


What's the main reason people love living in Passivhaus homes?
They are so comfortable and healthy, providing year-round comfort for New Zealand homes, even in our changable climates. They stay a passively comfortable temperature all year round, with no cold drafts and no cold surfaces (even in the middle of winter) - this seems almost unimaginable when around 90% of our housing stock are essentially "wooden tents"! There is also a very real and frightening issue with the indoor air quality of many of our current buildings - which includes the high levels of pollutants, dustmites, chemicals, and mould... that many occupants breathe in everyday (this is causing a lot of ill-health effects). A passivhaus provides a constant supply of fresh filtered air, and is calculated with building physics to ensure a healthy indoor environment that is much better for our well-being.

From a young age I have loved making things, my earliest memory of this was building ships in the backyard with my Dad or go-karts from scrap plywood and disassembled bicycles. As I grew older I started building tree-houses (my earliest architecture next to the sofa fort) and more elaborate boats and go-karts. I enjoyed making Warhammer and scale models and in my teen years I discovered the possibilities of Balsa Wood and how to make my own aeroplanes. 

When I studied in Denmark I was exposed to a new depth of skills, material, tools and ways of thinking. We were taught that architecture did no belong just on the page and that to communicate we must also bring with us our ideas made physical. At the Aarhus School of Architecture there were incredibly skilled technicians, some who had spent years as professional furniture makers and all who brought patience and knowledge to any project I brought to them. I learned in the workshops there that my ideas could find new ways of expressing themselves through wood and metal and clay, in a more responsive way than paper or on a computer. 

I learned that there was no line between what was considered furniture or architecture, that all designs exists on the same spectrum of idea manifest in the physical world. 

Today with my architecture practice, my making skills are how I interact with the buildings I design. I do not see it that there is a point where my role stops and an interior designer or furniture store takes over. My ideas for space have strength and structure because I have thought of the objects that go inside them.

It was true in the past that an Architect was a master craftsman and I wish to return that notion of craft and making intersecting with design and architecture. ​

1. Curves

Contemporary built environments are full of harsh angles and flat surfaces, yet our body and our natural environment is full of curves. Incorporating curvature into your design can increase the sense of comfort, spaciousness and welcome in your project. One or two curves in a project will have a dramatic impact on the experience of a space, introducing intrigue and playfulness. And they aren’t as expensive as one might think.


2. Natural materials

Natural materials are typically hard-wearing and durable. Over the years, they acquire a patina that imbues character, whereas synthetic materials tend to break down and need replacing. For example, synthetic countertops vs. stone countertops. Natural materials communicate a quality of authenticity and integrity. You know that something isn’t just ‘surface level’ and will wear out, but will only get better with age.

Additionally, many building materials contain synthetic chemicals that off gas over years into the spaces we live and sleep, polluting our bodies and environment with nasty chemicals. Home should be a safe and friendly place for our body. Using non-toxic natural materials in your home not only looks good but will make you feel good too.


3. Darkness

​Many contemporary buildings are inclined to maximise light with a lot of glass. This is an excellent way to improve the passive efficiency of homes and create connection with the outside world. Like with everything though, we need balance. A dark nook can be an intentional space for rest and respite. We all need to retreat into a cosy cave now and then. At the end of the day, our bodies actually require darkness to sync our circadian rhythm and give us a good rest. While light is intrinsic to a successful architecture, it is the interplay of light and darkness that create drama and produce spaces of surprise and reprieve.


4. Finishing Touches

Everything you touch on a daily basis deserves thought and care. Fixings like door handles and staircase railings are typically bought or made towards the end of a build, when everyone is tired of talking about design. Yet, these details are what can make a good space, great. Thoughtful attention to fixings, like light switches and cabinetry, will allow them to disappear into the larger design concept. When tacked on haphazardly, they can command attention for the wrong reasons, interrupting what might be an otherwise seamless space.


5. The Big Picture

When tough moments arise, it’s easy to lose sight of what you’re working towards. Design and build processes can be fatiguing and it’s easy to get bogged down by things like consent and planning. It's important to remember why you are building in the first place.
A successful build requires a team effort. When it all feel like too much, sit down with the team and discuss what is working well, what isn’t and how to move forward. Designing any building is hard. That’s why it’s imperative that you work with highly skilled people who you enjoy working with. When the going gets tough, keep a good feeling and you’ll come out of the process with expanded capabilities, good memories and maybe a laugh or two down the line.

Written Nick Dunning of OTO Group Architecture.
As seen on Grand Designs New Zealand.

I do all of my own taxes. I do this to save money on accountants but there is a portion of 'I do everything else for. my business so I should be able to do this too' in there.

I never studied accounting. I don't really get tax.

But this is the second year I've submitted a tax return and I'd like to share 3 quick lessons I've learned.

1. IRD are a lot friendlier than I'd thought.
Whenever I give them a call, they sort out my problems right on the phone. They can even look at your screen while you are on the My IR website and guide you through how to fix your own issuses in the future. I always get someone friendly and engaged, we chat about our days, they help me out, I'm apologetic and they are understanding.
Don't be afraid to give them a call if you have any questions.

2. Net income is different from Gross income.
I vaguely remember having a lecture in Architecture school about net and gross floor area. Which is which I'm not entirely sure... Recently I did my tax return online and it doesn't ask for overall income and expenses separately, just net income.
The way I read this was the income word and skipped over net. A net catches all right? Wrong.
Net income is your total income with expenses deducted from this. 

3. Expense reports need to be updated regularly.
I need to submit GST returns every 2 months. That doesn't mean that I should sit down and collate my loose receipts every 2 months, I should dedicate a time in the week to do it.
My current method is Friday morning at 10.30 I dedicate this time to inputting receipt data. It usually only take 15 minutes and saves a lot of time when the return is due. Also, expenses are a key part of running a business and collecting all the receipts you have related to the business will help keep your head afloat in the long run.

Architecture studios are culturally entrenched in the design world, their function and presentation reaffirm architecture as a physical practice. Most studios like to feel they are unique but visit enough of them and they slowly meld in to one: apple computers, moleskine diaries, a bowl full of black fine liners, the core elements tende

If we take university as the root mold of a studio practice environment, we find rooms overflowing with desk space and tools.

What are the bare essentials that you need to create solid work?
-a computer of some sort                                   $1000-$1500
-a notepad of another sort                                 $100
-a drawing implement                                        $50
-a recording device                                             $500

The above list is everything that I need to create work. It is the bare list of things I take with me when I go hiking for a week and still want to work. Anything more is excess so let's break it down

A COMPUTER OF SOME SORT

Computers are funny things. They demand our attention at our desks and it seems our entire lives are dedicated to inputting and extracting information from them. Depending on your style of workflow, architecture can be quite computationally exacting. Software requirements vary from person to person but I've found the following to work best for my practice:
-Sketchup- the fastest 3D modelling software available and there are free versions out there. Connect it with the mobile app and you've got a view anywhere display tool too. Sketchup requires little processing power compared to other 3D software.
-Revit- For scale drawings and quick workflow, revit (our archicad if you're a mac person) ticks those boxes and requires little processing power. Skip autocad, illustrator or other 2D software, stick to BIM and reduce your work load.
-Photoshop- Devote time to developing photoshop skills, you can save terrible renders with some clever textures.
-Google Suite- Anything that google makes seems to work great. Instead of using Word etc, google docs and sheets are remotely accessible on any device and you don't have to worry about processing power or storage sizes.

So that is pretty much it for day to day work, create some work, refine some work, invoice some people, email some people.

The computer needs for the above are surprisingly minimal and we don't need the latest and greatest intel i9 processor and a grunty graphics card so lets talk how much this should cost you.

An intel i5 from 2017 or later should last you many years, I do a lot of my work at home on an old intel i3 NUC from 2014 which runs all my software just fine. Don't get suckered into the faster computers, they are just more expensive and use more battery.

Shop around for a second hand laptop, a lot of other people like to replace their machines every 12 months so take advantage of that. Make sure the battery is in good condition. Second hand windows laptops don't hold their value as much as the macbooks do. 

A 15 inch screen is ideal, settle for a 13 inch screen if you have to.


A NOTEPAD OF ANOTHER SORT

I've written down $100 as that is roughly how many $15 notebooks I go through in 12 months. I make my own notebooks but I've adjusted that for medium sized moleskines. Anything with decent enough paper for sketching ideas will work.

A DRAWING IMPLEMENT

The same applies here as I teach my students: no erasers allowed. I mean it is just good drawing practice but that will also save you enough money to buy a coffee or two.

I use a $25 Lamy fountain pen with an ultra fine nib. I fill it up with $20 ink that is still going 2 years after buying it. I used to buy fine liners (starting with Steadtler at $8 a pen, UniPin at $6.50 a pen and Molotow at $6 a pen. The Molotows were the best overall regardless of price.) but the cost is too high for a year of drawing. Also, that plastic waste is insane.

This is the bare bones for sketching and note taking, and everyone should have a host of drawing apartatus from University or stolen from their previous work. This is all I'd need to buy if my studio burnt down.

A RECORDING DEVICE

You'll need something to take photos of sites, record audio in interviews and maybe take videos of things for your website. If only there was a device that could do all of this for you... Instead of the $2000+ camera, we now have access to powerful phones that tick all these boxes. This cost might be a moot point as everyone has a smartphone but here I'd argue buying a bigger phone specifically for work and selling your old one is a good idea.

I recently moved from a small Iphone SE to the hunky Samsung Note 8. I did this because the camera is fantastic so I leave my camera in the office more, it has a stylus for drawing quick sketches and taking notes, and it has good voice recording. It also has a much larger display so I can use it as a more effective display tool in meetings and don't need to spend more money on an iPad or other tablet. I bought mine second hand for $500.

CONCLUSION

So that is pretty much it. In future posts you'll see that I surround myself with a lot more stuff and my studio is heavily physical so the shear amount of furniture and apparatus is higher than necessary.

In our digital world, there are so few boundaries to going out on your own, we don't need to buy expensive computers, drafting tables and other equipment to function. 
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Semiotics involves designing in a way that uses a system of signs that contain an embedded symbolic meaning (Preziosi). Whether that be endemic to a particular culture or region is up to the architect and the viewer. Our minds work through associations so drawing parallels from the language we use can bring meaning to the viewer. Architecture uses a visual language which can be inherited from different aspects of life. It is this architectural language that we place meaning on and informs how we perceive elements. 

Semiotics is our association with the familiar. For example, a small cottage may mean ‘home’, a row of romanesque columns means ‘strength’, 

Architectural language is used to either imply an idea or to draw a parallel to another idea and therefore associate itself with that idea. This was used on a large scale in the 1800’s in North America as new migrants aimed to ally themselves with the grandiose and powerful image of old Europe. Tall columns, delicate plaster work and rigid building elevations all aimed to push a connotation of buildings found in Rome on the viewer and therefore make them think of the building in front of them as something else.

Metaphors found when we think of stress and depression are usually gloomy. We think of dark forests, emptiness or drifting underwater into unseen depths. Stress brings to mind heavy burdens, narrow vision and one thousand voices bombarding us from all directions. 

It is with these kinds of metaphors that we can design custom spaces for our clients. At OTO we ask our clients to provide a narrative of the emotions they see from their future home, maybe it is an image of a glass of red wine with the light coming through and casting red on the table, or the feeling of standing above the world and being projected out over the ocean. We can turn these images into physical space through careful and creative thinking. ​