The rain slashes across my windows and the wind sings a lonesome song. Within my warm and safe apartment, the definition of “Home” appears as tangible and yet evasive as the wind and the rain without.
As an architect, my immediate understanding of Home comes from a practical analysis; a home is nothing more than a building in which one lives. As Le Corbusier explained, “You employ stone, wood and concrete, and with these materials you build houses and palaces. That is construction.” A home is an amalgamation of materials arranged so that one is protected from the elements and has a safe haven in which to sleep.
However, I should consider the less tangible—more human—aspects of Home. As any traveler would note, providing shelter for sleep does not legitimize a space as Home; it only serves a temporary need. A hostel, motel, or hotel, while serving the function of protection, does not elicit emotions of pride, peace, or anticipation of the future. A home, however, does.
Having recently moved to San Francisco, I now live in a quaint studio. While far from palatial (and not owned), I consider this humble space my Home. It is my personal territory where I can do as I please, share with whomever I will, and design as I want. It is a space that evokes memories of past adventures through knick knacks I have garnered along life’s journey, and a place which holds mysteries of stories and experiences I am yet to have. Coming home, I feel immediately at peace in the knowledge of my safety, my security, and my control.
I know Ketty feels the same pride of place, peace, and anticipation that comes with a Home. Many miles from San Francisco, Ketty lives with her son, Paul, in a concrete block house with a corrugated metal roof in Kaoma, Zambia. On a Habitat Global Village trip, I had the pleasure of helping build her home. As a young woman and a single mother, Ketty envisions her new home to be one in which she can raise her son, study for entrance to college, and go about daily life without worrying about the practicalities of providing a shelter. On our last day of the build it only took looking in her eyes, where the tears were pooled, to understand her pride, her excitement and anticipation, and her peace with achieving a lofty dream of home ownership. Seeing those emotions well up was the reason I was on that build: helping others experience the meaning of Home.
In the previous passage when Le Corbusier defined construction, he went further to elucidate architecture. In reading his thoughts, I find that “Architecture” could be synonymous with “Home” and “Art” with “Love.” He continued, “…with these materials you build houses and palaces. That is construction…But suddenly you touch my heart, you do me good. I am happy and I say ‘This is beautiful’. That is Architecture. Art enters in.” That is Home. Love enters in.