we understand because it is al-
ways with us. We intuitively understand good proportions because they are a
part of our most primal language.
On the most conscious level, good proportion is achieved by first choosing
an increment of measure. Making such a seemingly arbitrary decision can
be made easier if meaning is imposed on it. Ancient civilizations created sys-
tems of measure based on human and geodetic significance. A Mediterra-
nian precursor to the foot we use today was 1/360,000 of 1/360 (one degree)
of the circumference of the earth. It was also related to the conventional
calendar containing 360 days of the year plus five holy days, and it was 1/6
the height of what were viewed as ideal human proportions. The eighteen-
inch cubit (distance from elbow to longest finger tip) and the yard (1/2 of the
total height) also relate to this canon. We have inherited a measuring system
imbued with meaning that relates us to our environment. Our buildings are
94
literally designed to embody the characteristics of the Self.
Today, plywood is milled to 4’ x 8’ pieces; lumber comes in 6’, 8’, 10’, 12’ and
16’ lengths; metal roofing is typically 3’ wide, and most other building materi-
als are similarly sized to fit within this one foot system of measure. Great ef-
ficiency can be achieved by keeping this in mind during the design process.
A large share of bragging rights deservedly go to a designer whose structure
has left little construction waste and has required relatively few saw cuts.
Simplified construction is nearly as much the aim of subtractive design as
simplified form and function are.
The unit of measure we use to compose a harmonious design can be more
than just linear. In Japan, a two-dimensional increment called the “tatami
mat” is often used. It is an area of three by six feet (the Japanese foot, or
shaku , is actually 11.93 of our inches). This area is meant to correlate with
human dimensions. The Japanese saying, “tatte hanjo, nete ichijo,” trans-
lates as, “half a mat to stand, one mat to sleep.”
Once an increment has been chosen, be it a foot, yard, cubit, tatami mat or
a sheet of plywood, we can begin to compose a home comprised of simple
multiples and fractions of the unit. This process should be fairly intuitive.
Each one of us will compose somewhat differently, but our underlying prin-
ciples are the same. These principles are not arbitrary, but the same that
govern the composition of all natural things.
95
Dee Williams’ house in Olympia, WA
96
Scale
Always design a thing by considering it in its next larger context—a chair in a
room, a room in a house, a house in an environment. –Eliel Saarinen
Again, the scale of our homes should be determined by the true needs of
their occupant(s). Few of us would go into a restaurant and seek out a table
in the large, open space at the center of the dining room. Most of us pre-
fer the comfort and security of the corner booth. Ideally, every room in our
homes will offer the same sense of enclosure without confinement.
To be sure that a minimized space does not feel confining, its designer has
to consider ergonomics and any pertinent anthropometric data. Understand-
ing exactly how much space we occupy when we sit, stand or lie down is
absolutely essential to the subtractive process. To know how much can be
excised from our homes, we must first understand how much is needed. An
extensive list of recommended dimensions is provided on pages 117 - 122.
When a home’s designer is also to be its sole inhabitant, a more personal-
ized list can be made. Every measurement within a house, from the size of
its doorways to the height of its kitchen counter, should ideally be determined
by what feels good to the occupant. Designing one’s own little house is more
like tailoring a suit than what is normally thought of as architecture.
The overall scale of our homes does not need to
ways with us. We intuitively understand good proportions because they are a
part of our most primal language.
On the most conscious level, good proportion is achieved by first choosing
an increment of measure. Making such a seemingly arbitrary decision can
be made easier if meaning is imposed on it. Ancient civilizations created sys-
tems of measure based on human and geodetic significance. A Mediterra-
nian precursor to the foot we use today was 1/360,000 of 1/360 (one degree)
of the circumference of the earth. It was also related to the conventional
calendar containing 360 days of the year plus five holy days, and it was 1/6
the height of what were viewed as ideal human proportions. The eighteen-
inch cubit (distance from elbow to longest finger tip) and the yard (1/2 of the
total height) also relate to this canon. We have inherited a measuring system
imbued with meaning that relates us to our environment. Our buildings are
94
literally designed to embody the characteristics of the Self.
Today, plywood is milled to 4’ x 8’ pieces; lumber comes in 6’, 8’, 10’, 12’ and
16’ lengths; metal roofing is typically 3’ wide, and most other building materi-
als are similarly sized to fit within this one foot system of measure. Great ef-
ficiency can be achieved by keeping this in mind during the design process.
A large share of bragging rights deservedly go to a designer whose structure
has left little construction waste and has required relatively few saw cuts.
Simplified construction is nearly as much the aim of subtractive design as
simplified form and function are.
The unit of measure we use to compose a harmonious design can be more
than just linear. In Japan, a two-dimensional increment called the “tatami
mat” is often used. It is an area of three by six feet (the Japanese foot, or
shaku , is actually 11.93 of our inches). This area is meant to correlate with
human dimensions. The Japanese saying, “tatte hanjo, nete ichijo,” trans-
lates as, “half a mat to stand, one mat to sleep.”
Once an increment has been chosen, be it a foot, yard, cubit, tatami mat or
a sheet of plywood, we can begin to compose a home comprised of simple
multiples and fractions of the unit. This process should be fairly intuitive.
Each one of us will compose somewhat differently, but our underlying prin-
ciples are the same. These principles are not arbitrary, but the same that
govern the composition of all natural things.
95
Dee Williams’ house in Olympia, WA
96
Scale
Always design a thing by considering it in its next larger context—a chair in a
room, a room in a house, a house in an environment. –Eliel Saarinen
Again, the scale of our homes should be determined by the true needs of
their occupant(s). Few of us would go into a restaurant and seek out a table
in the large, open space at the center of the dining room. Most of us pre-
fer the comfort and security of the corner booth. Ideally, every room in our
homes will offer the same sense of enclosure without confinement.
To be sure that a minimized space does not feel confining, its designer has
to consider ergonomics and any pertinent anthropometric data. Understand-
ing exactly how much space we occupy when we sit, stand or lie down is
absolutely essential to the subtractive process. To know how much can be
excised from our homes, we must first understand how much is needed. An
extensive list of recommended dimensions is provided on pages 117 - 122.
When a home’s designer is also to be its sole inhabitant, a more personal-
ized list can be made. Every measurement within a house, from the size of
its doorways to the height of its kitchen counter, should ideally be determined
by what feels good to the occupant. Designing one’s own little house is more
like tailoring a suit than what is normally thought of as architecture.
The overall scale of our homes does not need to
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