Summarize this content to 2000 words in 6 paragraphs in Arabic Unlock the Editor’s Digest for freeRoula Khalaf, Editor of the FT, selects her favourite stories in this weekly newsletter.The British seaside home has a number of archetypes. There is the whitewashed cottage or gabled Victorian villa. The 1930s brought the Modernist cube, fit for an Agatha Christie denouement. By the 1960s, the style had moved on to bungalows basking in picture-window vistas. In the 1980s, Derek Jarman’s weatherboarded Kentish cabin signalled a shift to more low-key preferences. But architect Nico Warr, founder of London-based practice Finch, has done something entirely different. The Longhouse, the coastal bolt-hole Warr and his team designed for clients in West Sussex, draws on a web of influences — from the local shoreline and Viking longships to abstract sculpture. The copper-clad, curving building stands out from its more conventional neighbours. But the natural materials and organic silhouette also make it feel familiar, rooted in its setting. The owners initially approached Warr to enlarge their family home — a compact Arts and Crafts cottage where picturesque grass-fringed paths lead to the beach — for entertaining. “I realised that we couldn’t add the space they needed without compromising the site,” says Warr. A “multi-use” annexe, set at a right angle to the property to preserve the views, was the answer. His search for ideas began on the beach, foraging for wood, stone and flinty pebbles. “I then spent two weeks thinking it through. Any addition should be detailed in its response to the original house. But never apologetic.”Volume is a forgotten commodity. How often do you get the opportunity to enjoy a space like this on a Sunday morning in your pyjamas?His clients were open to experimentation and, says Warr, “were more like patrons. They wanted to be taken out of their comfort zone.” It took longer than usual to get planning approval, largely because the council insisted that the new building harmonised with the proportions and location of the existing property. But several meetings later, they were won over by the proposal: neither pastiche nor starkly Modernist. It is the scale of the interior that grabs you first. At its highest point, the roof soars to an exhilarating 6.6 metres: a height more suited to a gallery or chapel. A long sofa invites you to sprawl and look up. “Volume is a forgotten commodity,” says Warr. “Property prices mean that we’ve had to focus on how many rooms you can fit into a building. How often do you get the opportunity to enjoy a space like this on a Sunday morning in your pyjamas?”A tranquil guest room is at the back. Roof lights illuminate the two-storey heart of the building, with interiors designed by Coralie Walker of The Design Merchant. Warr, who champions a hands-on approach, built the staircase himself, which leads to the mezzanine floor lined with fold-out beds for sleepovers. A cork-walled and ceilinged TV room, bathroom and cosy bar sit beneath. But this is not just a party space. It could become a self-contained home for the owners in later years. The dramatic, ribbed vaulting refers to Nordic tradition. Historically, when boats reached the end of their life they were flipped upside down to become homes. The brine-weathered wooden groynes — built to prevent flooding — of nearby beaches were another reference point for Warr. He used a mix of materials: the arches are formed from Scandinavian spruce; the cedar panels were salvaged from a 100-year-old barn. Panelling and doors are clad in leather, cupboards in cork. “We’ve combined traditional materials and techniques in unconventional ways. I hope it sets a precedent,’ says Warr, who studied architecture at Edinburgh University. After working for Seth Stein Architects, he set up his own London practice in 2010. Its portfolio is diverse. A museum at the Schindler factory in the Czech Republic, where Oskar Schindler helped to save the lives of 1,200 Jews during the second world war, and residential projects in London with Belgian designer Axel Vervoordt are currently in progress. A peripatetic childhood kindled his interest in buildings. His father, a socio-economist, worked for rural development agencies. The family moved constantly: Ghana, Bangladesh, Egypt. Early on, he learnt to appreciate the value of vernacular architecture, compared with the glass-and-concrete new-builds typical of so many growing economies. “Architecture is about culture and people: the choices they make. And the quirks of a particular site. It’s sad when that gets lost.”This reminds him to point out another maritime reference. The curved, bifurcated exterior — two separate sections appear to slot into each other — nods to the wavy, ridged sands of the seabed. The shape is also practical. Rain and leaves slide off, minimising leaks. But for the cladding, Warr looked beyond the beach. The copper panels are his homage to sculptor Richard Serra. He discovered the American’s “immersive” installations while working for his former employer Seth Stein, when the practice designed a space to house one of Serra’s pieces. To emulate Serra’s preferred steel, which would have degraded too quickly in the salty atmosphere, they used pre-patinated copper: a foil to the brilliance of the surrounding foliage. Warr recalls how Stein taught him to express his ideas in a “bold and visual” way. He wants to take that further by “reintroducing a sense of wonder” to everyday architecture. With the Longhouse, he’s on course.Find out about our latest stories first — follow @ft_houseandhome on Instagram
