Wow. Thanks to fauna for pointing this out to me. The 20 ton roof retracts in only six minutes via small, simple, quiet motors run by a few car batteries. The house was designed by owner Ross Russell and architect Alex de Rijke of DRMM. Via Wallpaper.

Frank Lloyd Wright built Fallingwater on a boulder-covered site, but the giant rocks beneath and around that well-known house are not nearly so graphic or madly visible as they are in these houses. Some of these structures were deliberately built on or around boulders, whether for aesthetics, site preservation, or protection; others incorporated the rocks simply because the rocks could not be moved from the only available building spot. Portugal and Spain are full of boulder architecture, and so are many erratic-strewn desert regions where imposing rocks can provide shelter from the sun or wind. In colder climates where rock expands and contracts with the seasons, much of this architecture is not possible, but if I could get a boulder inside my living room, I would. The house above is in Phoenix; the three photos directly below show architect Albert Frey’s own house in Palm Springs (two of those photos have appeared here before; I keep going back to them).

Below, in order: Klein Aus Vista in Namibia, by iciblancheneige; Stone house in Fafe, Portugal, by Jsome1; Rock House, Koh Samui, Thailand, by msharkie; house in boulder-strewn Monsanto, Portugal, by Txumu; house at Cliff Dwellers, Arizona, by davduf; Hairy Bobbo’s handcarved house, 18th C hermitage in Yorkshire, by Nekoglyph. Click on each photo for more information.

Western European churches, especially those near or in shipping towns, often suspended a model ship from the ceiling as a symbol of good luck for sailors. The practice is probably most common in Denmark, but is fairly widespread. It would be surprising if the current craze for ship chandeliers in decor (see the ship chandeliers in houses at bottom) weren’t related to this tradition. For a whole set of photos of church ships, see here. Photo at top is in Vilnius, Lithuania; second is on the island of Seili, Finland. For photos below, click on photo for information.

Above, Canterbury Cathedral. Directly below (and at very top of post), a crystal ship in the Saints Peter & Paul’s Cathedral in Vilnius; photos by Beny Shlevich. Below that, two examples of the ship chandelier that’s become so popular now. It and others are contemporary, but there are antique versions of it too, usually from the early 1900s.

The two interior design photos above – both of them strangely aristocratic/colonial - are of a house by Jonathan Adler, top, and an apartment styled by designer Lili Diallo, below. The big ships are beautiful, even if there’s always plunder in their wake.

Here are three converted churches which seem much more successful than most of the examples in the last post. Above is a 19th century chapel in the Flemish village of Bazel which has been converted into 2 loft-type houses. Thanks to the amazing Office for Word and Image OWI for permission to reprint this photo here – Verne is the photographer. When a church is divided into separate storeys, the space seems to become automatically easier to live in. This seems obvious now but when I set out it seemed a shame to alter the building so radically. As it turns out, though, a 30-40′ cathedral ceiling is not exactly cosy. 

Above, a converted church in Kensal Green, London, via casa sugar and lightlocations. 

A conversion in Brisbane, from desire to inspire. Very, very shiny! The solution to the problem of churchiness here has been to make everything a uniform white, and I can sympathize with that solution. My experience with hanging art in a church space is that it can look a little odd when it flanks arched windows, and that’s why in my little church, the art is still on the floor, stacked against the walls. The more photos of church conversions I look at, the more challenging the whole project seems. If anyone has a favourite church conversion can you send it on?

Ann Margret as Nora Walker Hobbs in Ken Russell’s 1975 film “Tommy”. This scene, not to mention the whole film, was absolutely formative for me (and apparently I’m not alone). It opens with a drunk Nora watching TV in her all-white glam boudoir; on the screen is an ad for baked beans, “Fit For A Queen.” Nora throws a champagne bottle through the TV set, soap suds and baked beans pour out into the white bedroom, and she writhes, laughing, in the surreal, psychedelic mess.

 See Hilly Blue’s excellent collection of film stills at  Flickr.