THE STATE OF THE YURT

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Does that remark sound strange, coming from one who revels in creating roofs of birchbark and sod? It shouldn't! Ancient materials—timber, stone, adobe, bark, sod, thatch, rope, cloth and rawhide-are truly marvelous, but so are the modern substances that make possible structures never before imagined. I want to learn all I can both from the wisdom of our forebears and from recent discoveries . . . and to blend this knowledge for the creation of a more beautiful world.

The beauty of these advances in forms and materials—from the social point of view—is not just the blessing of simpler, cheaper, more harmonious housing, but the potential for architecture to become democratic. With the help of the new technology, the average person can build his own yurt or other shelter, live in it, seek to come into harmony with its spirit and thus take part in improving its design.

That point is important now, when our concepts of architecture are changing. We're more aware than ever before of space and its effects on us . . . and there's a great increase in concern for the emotional growth to be gained from shaping our own dwellings. Opposed to this trend are powerful vested interests which would prefer that we remained ignorant of our power to supply ourselves with shelter and other needs. (Meeting human wants, after all, is big business.) Nevertheless, many of us are beginning to recognize the right of every individual to participate in the formation of his personal environment . . . and to realize that we must design a society which will promote—as opposed to permit —this.

THE YURT AS LIVING SPACE

One result of our increased sensitivity to our surroundings is that we're becoming more aware of the prevailing system's defects. At present we live in homes with enormous amounts of waste space and attendant costs of purchase, heating and care. Bedrooms, for instance, resemble schools and churches in being empty most of the time. My design sense is troubled when I see a large bed in the center of a floor, dominating the area 24 hours a day but being used only eight or so. It should at least be built to raise to the ceiling (a la Jefferson) or fold into the wall (a la Murphy) so that on a rainy day the kids can have a place to play marbles that isn't underfoot.

In designing yurts I've been concerned with creating multipurpose space: beds that can be laid out at night and which disappear during the day . . . living areas that can shift from settings for quiet conversation, to dining, to craftwork , to steep. I'm not advocating crowded living quarters, of course. On the contrary, more flexibility means greater spaciousness.

Here's another aspect of contemporary housing that troubles me: Where is the workspace in present-day homes? In most cases, that function of work has been degraded—pushed out into the cellar or garage—or completely done away with. The only work surface I find in many houses is the kitchen counter. If I want to draw, cut out a leather bag, make a shirt or carve a paddle there's no place to do it. Look around you. If your home is different, blessings on you and may your children's children have happy grandparents.

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