The Mother Of Space : A Home

The Van Rooy House

Greeted by high iron gates and soaring wooden barriers,   The Suburbia of Inanda speaks silently yet profound,  Neighbours with border lines as boundaries, Guarded and patrolled; this space is its own country. Vegetation dominating its streets,  A forrest of sorts, vines bleeding off towering walls, the range of indigenous gardens 

Scenic… is the enclosure of lush tree branches , extending towards each other.   Delicate in its nature however silent is the road that holds stories of wealth.

Once inside the complex of complex homes, a gate awaits your appointment, inaudible is the opening of the wooden barriers, laced with natural stone,  the paving, cut to its mosaic floor. The elongated road which welcomes its desired guests, directs the eye to this home.

Camouflaged are the walls and floors with one fast movement,  the house looks rooted, firmly into the ground. There are windows that overlook the entrance seen before seeing, the panelled wooden doors open

Framed are the moments in this home, never seeing the same thing, this home intrigues the observant,  Sight of spaces through reflections, examining movements freely,  how transparent is she? enough for you to know enough

Clothed in soft antique furniture,  Stories told over tea and biscuits. She is a historian or a collectible connoisseur. Patiently revealing her truths, in skylights and framed glass openings An introverted extrovert, like the boundary walls that seem lower, once inside the fortress. A majestic palace for its owner

In the respect of keeping residential privacy, the poem speaks to experience. The designing of homes is seen to be detached from spiritual architecture, this baffles me. A space of self is the primary key to enriching the soul. A home is a temple of sorts, multilayered in experience yet unique to its followers. She clothes you through it all, the first steps, family gatherings, intimate moments among self. She comforts you, in ways in which you desire. She is your dream awakened, in life size. A home is the place of solitude, a sanctuary from prefabricated cities. She is you.

Residential architecture is crucial in mothering the psyche of societies. When we look at social housing; location, community involvement and architectural response speak to the narratives “we” create in societies. Why do RDP complexes look and feel like prison ? Where is the growth in boxing people in? Why are we not enriching our people in their sacred spaces? 

Penny for your thoughts (This conversation has just began)


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