Why Would I Want a Smaller Space? Design for Form, Function, and Togetherness
When I was a kid, we’d go to my grandma’s house in northwestern Iowa, and all the cousins would show up. Sometimes, that meant there’d be more than 30 people there at one time. And it’s a little house with maybe three or four bedrooms in total. We’d roll out sleeping bags on the floor, stepping over each other and passing time by the fire, talking, playing games — just enjoying time together.
Over the years, I’ve realized that togetherness was the magic of being there. Not the house, not the square footage, not an extra bathroom or a bespoke kitchen. We remembered time spent running around in that small town, what the air and grass smelled like, playing in the creek, the view we had of the sky and hills and valleys, and sleeping next to each other after a long day of side-splitting laughter.
What’s All That Space For?
As a design director at Cushing Terrell, I’ve had the opportunity to work on plenty of large-scale residential projects, and while that work is exciting and creatively fulfilling in many ways, at some point, you begin to wonder if you’re incentivizing people to be separated from each other by making spaces bigger than they need to be. Spending time together is one of the things residential projects are meant to support. And as a residential designer, my work is about helping to craft spaces that are the backdrop for experiences — places where memories are made.
Where I’ve found a lot of joy, as it pertains to design specifically, is taking the core principles of good design and shifting these best practices toward smaller, more affordable, and even more accessible design. There’s a real sense of accomplishment in reducing things and focusing on quality over quantity. I believe the reason tiny homes — such as the Stone Creek Cabins in Montana I had the pleasure to design — are compelling because we’re able to create an immense sense of utility within a small footprint. In about 400 square feet, you have everything you need to be comfortable in beautiful surroundings.
Stone Creek Cabins, Kalispell, Montana
Where I’ve found a lot of joy, as it pertains to design specifically, is taking the core principles of good design and shifting these best practices toward smaller, more affordable, and even more accessible design.
Stone Creek Cabins, Kalispell, Montana
Less Space, More Control
Today, it’s essential to prioritize making the most of the space available and to lessen our impact on the environment. And choosing a smaller home can support these goals. At the same time, when we choose less, we gain more creative control over the orientation of our spaces — we have less stuff in the way of the stuff we care about. I love to design enriching spaces that work in harmony with their context and that support the need for both beauty and functionality.
A great example of this is what we call the Cliffhanger House. This “smaller big home” was carefully designed so as not to overwhelm its setting on the edge of a Montana cliffside. The effect is threefold: we realized a smaller environmental impact, we got creative with the orientation of floors and the conceptualization of multi-use spaces, and we prioritized views — and the result is what we think is a fairly jaw-dropping experience.
We removed barriers between the surrounding forest and the interior space by maximizing window walls and creating dynamic indoor-outdoor areas. As a result, the homeowners have an uninterrupted flow to and from nature and can interact with it directly or enjoy it as a backdrop to their in-home activities. For this project, we let the environment inform the character, shape, and orientation of the home.
Cliffhanger House, Whitefish, Montana
Higher Quality Materials at a More Accessible Price
In addition to the expanded creativity in the orientation and utility of a space, building smaller means clients can experiment with better building materials. Building and filling less space can equate to lower costs, so people can stretch their dollar to include premium materials that not only make their dream homes feel top-notch, but also retain structural integrity, durability, and visual appeal for generations.
This directly translates into the creation of “soul” within our living spaces. It isn’t simply the structure that brings character and personality to our homes, it’s our aesthetic choices, a reflection of our own passions and quirks that give a place its story, and which evolves and becomes deeper as the years go by. That’s to say, when we consider using the space to both reflect who we are and to make memories, it takes on a character all its own.
When we choose less, we gain more creative control over the orientation of our spaces — we have less stuff in the way of the stuff we care about. I love to design enriching spaces that work in harmony with their context and that support the need for both beauty and functionality.
Pool House and Gallery, Whitefish, Montana
The Style Factor: From Utility to Sculptural Art
Working with clients to help bring the “soul” of a home to life is one of the most important things for a successful project. Going beyond an efficient, functional “box” and seeing the potential in every building to “become” is incredibly rewarding, not only for me as the designer but also for the people who will live in the home. I like to think of it like creating a sculpture.
There are basic buildings out there that can almost do without an architect. They’re utilitarian, simply walls and a roof. The further you take it in the other direction on the creative spectrum, you come to pure sculptural art, which in some cases can trump function and efficiency to achieve the truest in sculptural purity. I think great projects fall somewhere in the middle of this spectrum, ideally leaning toward a sculptural experience, but not at the risk of subpar layouts or orientations.
In the case of smaller spaces, I would never go too far away from the idea of sculpture, though, as I believe that’s what makes great architecture. There always should be something in there that is sculptural — that is to solve a problem in an elegant way and make it say something, evoke feelings, and imbue character.
A great example, and one that might be unexpected, is the Missoula Salvation Army Community Center. This was a project where we needed to be sensitive to the client’s financial constraints as they are a charitable organization. This fact forced creativity in how we delivered a functional space according to their goals, but also which spoke to their mission and told a story of who they are visually.
The overall design created a balance of industrial and natural materials with the use of steel and wood structuring and siding, while the shape of the roof forms represent the organization’s mission to reach out and support the community. The roof elements reach toward each other, a metaphor for extending a “helping hand” to assist someone in need. The organization provides shelter, food, mental health assistance, spiritual support, and more, and it’s all represented in the overall sculptural architectural design.
No matter the size of your space, finding an architect who listens to and understands your needs within your space is the first step toward crafting structures with soul. Talk with them about your style, but also about your lifestyle, the ways you like to use your home, and about other spaces (any spaces in the world!) that inspire you. That’s how we can help create a space, not just for you to fit in, but one that fits you.
Salvation Army, Missoula, Montana
In the case of smaller spaces, I would never go too far away from the idea of sculpture, though, as I believe that’s what makes great architecture. There always should be something in there that is sculptural — that is to solve a problem in an elegant way and make it say something, evoke feelings, and imbue character.
