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Another year, another win from the perpetually humble, consistently impressive Measured Architecture.
“We don’t believe in the cult of individual genius,” says Clinton Cuddington. “The whole ‘great architect’ thing.”
Humble words coming from the co-principal of a studio that’s won more Designers of the Year awards than any other (with this year’s win, five times and counting). But Cuddington and fellow principal Piers Cunnington (yes, their names are just a consonant apart) really do believe humility is a virtue. In fact, to avoid the trap of artistic ego, they don’t use their names to brand their practice. Instead, the winners of this year’s Western Living Architects of the Year award labour under a modest banner—Measured.
The lack of braggadocio is, in fact, a design philosophy. “The joy of coming to work,” says Cunnington, “is working with others to conjure ideas and work with them to create a fully formed design. A piece of architecture is a synthesis of conflicting elements.” It’s in collaboration and responsiveness that Measured Architecture finds its gold.
Yes, their body of work could be described as belonging (broadly) to a Cascadian contemporary regionalism. And yes, you’ll discover plenty of modernist, minimalist elements in their swaths of concrete, glass and cedar. But what excited our judges, what makes their work so consistently exceptional, is their devotion to the unique conversation that each project produces—a conversation with the client, with the landscape, with the changing times.
Some architects pose as unyielding visionaries who have one unchangeable stylistic signature. But Cuddington and Cunnington would find that far too dull. As judge Kathy Hancox of HK Associates put it, the work is “innovative and curious… Each project brings fresh eyes to the design opportunity, reflecting the uniqueness of the client and context.” In their Shor House, on B.C.’s Mayne Island, that responsiveness comes shining through. They built a new retreat on the foundations of a previous building to produce what Cuddington calls “a glorified barn.” The house would be a part-time home for Cuddington himself, and he knew he wanted history in its bones (a trip to Donald Judd’s Marfa compound inspired him to push the limits of repurposed material). So Measured teamed up with salvage company Unbuilders to preserve and reuse lumber from the house, barn and fishing shack that previously sat on the site (nothing went to the landfill). Century-old railroad ties of yellow cedar—some made with thousand-year-old wood—were also milled and incorporated throughout the interior. A retaining wall of stacked stones, kept from the previous house, was given new life by master stone mason Tamotsu Tongu, and original floorboards were reinstalled with their aged patina intact.
The Shor House design, in other words, never presented itself fully formed in either architect’s head. Rather, a process of scavenging and sitting with the site suggested the design over time. They built in response to what they found.
Then there’s Frame House, a wildly different affair. The clients wanted their young children to have a hand in the design process—and Measured, true to form, welcomed those young inspirations. A suspension of trapeze netting upstairs is one fantastic result, offering moments of random lounging or wobbly transits from room to room. (The house itself is less wobbly, a chic concrete box with wall-wide windows that open onto the park across the street.)
Alma House, meanwhile, is a modernist renovation of a historic property. So, it responds not just to the client’s wishes but also to the style of the “host” house, too. Wainscoting and stained-glass windows were saved. But the kitchen was adapted for today’s use, and contemporary ideas are threaded throughout. “Rather than mimicking the old, diluting it,” says Cunnington, “we let the older elements shine through juxtaposition with the modern.”
The solutions that Measured deploys are infinitely varied—from accommodating renovations to grand statement houses—because Cuddington and Cunnington begin, every time, without preconceptions. More than a month is spent simply listening to new clients ask questions, getting a feel for their needs, before they begin a single drawing. This process, the effort to react authentically to the facts on the ground, is their guiding light. The benefits of that engagement are perhaps most obvious in a project like the Net Zero House. Because the building was prefabricated offsite, it needed extra support on its underside to keep from warping during transit. This supposed hassle was flipped around by Measured and became a design opportunity: the structure’s extra rigidity meant it could be cantilevered off a bluff—a magical effect with no extra cost.
For Measured, the inevitable (and unique) moments of friction are in fact the gateway to discovery: a chance to produce something new and unrepeatable. It’s heartening to discover that—despite their disdain for the mono-style of some “great architect”— Measured’s amenable approach has led them to greatness all the same.
Who do you admire most as a designer?
Piers: Alvar Aalto.
Clinton: Donald Judd, for his ability to distill.
Who’s a Canadian designer whose work you admire?
PC: Brigitte Shim and Howard Sutcliffe of Shim Sutcliffe Architects.
CC: Arthur Erickson, for his ability to infuse his work with the lessons of his travels.
What’s your go-to material of choice?
CC: Reclaimed, as it’s a constant reminder that we need to assess lifespan of the material prior to the elimination of it.
What books are on your nightstand right now?
PC: Visitation by Jenny Erpenbeck and On Consolation by Michael Ignatieff.
CC: The Architecture of Arthur Erickson, Building Seagram by Phyllis Lambert (honoured to be working alongside Phyllis on the Arthur Erickson Foundation) and Declaration of Interdependence by David Suzuki (excited to be working with Severn Cullis-Suzuki on their foundation headquarters).
What do you think is the most perfectly
designed object?
PC: The bicycle.
CC: The buttonhole.
Is there a famous project or object you wish you’d designed?
PC: The clock.
What are your pet peeves?
PC: Accidental inconsistency.
Favourite room from a movie?
PC: The submarine from The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou.
Michael Harris is a Vancouver-based journalist and the bestselling author of three books of nonfiction: The End of Absence, Solitude, and All We Want. His essays have appeared in Esquire, The Washington Post, and Wired.
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