Architecture (87)

In an era when mass-produced housing and cookie-cutter developments dominate landscapes, Lloyd Kahn’s Builders of the Pacific Coast stands as a profound reminder of the rich architectural heritage that continues to influence sustainable building practices today. This documentation of coastal builders from San Francisco to Vancouver Island isn’t just a historical record—it also serves as a blueprint for contemporary cultural preservation and sustainable living.

Cultural Heritage

The book’s relevance to today’s cultural-heritage conversation is shown in several ways. For example, it captures the intimate connection between Indigenous building practices and environmental stewardship. The detailed accounts of First Nations architecture, particularly the Kwakiutl (Kwakwaka’wakw) people’s sophisticated use of cedar and their sustainable building techniques, provide valuable lessons for modern architects grappling with climate change and environmental degradation. These traditional methods demonstrate how cultural heritage and ecological responsibility can seamlessly intertwine.

The significance of the book lies in its documentation of a countercultural building movement that has become increasingly relevant in the current housing crisis. The builders featured in Lloyd’s work championed small, efficient living spaces long before the tiny-house movement gained mainstream attention. Their innovative approaches to using local and recycled materials, minimizing environmental impact, and creating harmony between structure and landscape mirror the principles that today’s sustainable-architecture movement embraces.

Past Inspiration

One can see the book’s influence on contemporary builders through a fascinating chain of inspiration. As Lloyd discovered during his journey, many of the builders he encountered were inspired by his earlier work Shelter (1973), creating a direct lineage of architectural knowledge that continues to influence eco-conscious builders today. This demonstrates how documented cultural heritage can actively shape future building practices.

The emphasis on craftsmanship and personal connection to building materials speaks to the current moment, where there exists growing resistance to disposable consumer culture. The builders’ dedication to understanding their materials—whether through one designer’s artistic approach to woodworking or another’s organic building methods—offers an alternative to the increasingly automated and standardized construction industry.

Community

Furthermore, the book’s documentation of community-based building practices resonates with contemporary movements toward collective housing solutions and cooperative living arrangements. The stories of builders helping one another, sharing knowledge, and creating spaces that foster community interaction provide valuable models for addressing today’s housing challenges.

In an age when digital technology often disconnects people from physical craft, Builders of the Pacific Coast reminds readers of the profound satisfaction and cultural significance of creating with one’s hands. The book’s relevance extends beyond architecture to touch on broader themes of cultural preservation, environmental responsibility, and community building—all critical issues in the current global dialogue about sustainable future development.

As society faces unprecedented challenges in housing, climate change, and cultural preservation, the wisdom captured in Lloyd’s work becomes increasingly valuable. These builders’ stories remind us that cultural heritage isn’t just about preserving the past—it’s about learning from it to create a more sustainable and connected future.

This is a transcript from our series on YouTube. See the full video HERE.

I find that [the] generation of millennials, the 30- [to 40-]year-olds, are picking up on what we were doing 50 years ago and liking this idea of doing it yourself. I discovered in the 1970s that you can’t be self-sufficient. You can’t very easily grow your own wheat and mill it, and you can’t fill your teeth, but the idea is [that] you do as much for yourself as possible. Perfection? You’ll never get there, but [you can] work towards it. You still need human hands to build a house, so I think that our message is still relevant. Back in the 1960s and ’70s, everybody wanted to get 10 acres in the country and build an adobe house or a log house on it, and [then] have a garden. 

Nowadays, if I were a young person, I would look around in small towns or cities, maybe in a neighborhood, and find a house that needs work. The advantage is, you’ve already got water, electricity, and waste disposal on the site. I would look to make sure the foundation is solid and then, you know, fix it up. If you live in an apartment in Manhattan, grow some parsley on your fire escape, you know. Just do anything you can to create your food and shelter.

I have young people coming up to me…. It was yesterday, this guy was 36 years old. He said, “I saw the book Shelter when I was a kid, which influenced me, and I’m now a carpenter.” You know, I probably get two or three people a week telling me that these books inspired them to do stuff, you know, to use their hands to build something, so the idea of this ADU thing, you know the, the unit in the backyard, is a good one, and I mean you can do it complying with the code. A lot of stuff is…people are going under the radar to live and…in every place where it’s difficult. 

Are books like Small Homes, from Shelter Publications, helpful with today’s housing issues?

I think that’s true, there are a lot of great ideas. You know, there’s different construction techniques, different materials, different designs, and different approaches. It has [appeal in the] city, as well as [in the] country. For example, in San Francisco, in the book, Jay Nelson [is] another person [who] bought a house in San Francisco, and, with the approval of the building codes, turned it into a duplex to cut the cost of the building in half. Another couple bought a home in LA that was really run down for like $200,000 and fixed it up, and so that’s a really, that’s a kind of important thing, I think, for people to consider, you know, as an alternative to starting from scratch. 

You know people can live in school buses. There’s just all kinds of approaches you can get out of these books. 

When people are hesitant about whether they can do it themselves, I tell them to start, and they’ll figure it out as they go along. You know, I read [a book on] Picasso recently. I read a quote where he said [something like], “If I want to know what I’m going to draw, I have to start drawing.” And so, you know, I think the use of your hands is a very important thing because, I tell people, your computer isn’t going to build a house for you. I mean, they do have these machines that extrude houses from a computer, but I don’t think that’s a very sensible thing. It’s not going to amount to anything…. You know, you still need a hammer and a saw, and the hammer could be a nail gun, and the saw could be a skill saw, but still, you need those things to put a house together.

We always love getting reader mail, and this beauty of a DIY home build was recently shared with Shelter Publications founder Lloyd Kahn: “…I still have my original Whole Earth Catalogs and recently replaced my Shelter book that I loaned out 40 years ago. You have been a great inspiration Lloyd…Many thanks. I am fully retired and ready to finally build my forever home! Greetings from Ontario, Canada! – Ursula Z.”

We wish you the best of luck on your future build, and thank you for being a long-time reader of Shelter books!

In 2017, the Millers snagged a 10-acre gem on Buchanan Lake in Minnesota, complete with a trio of old-school duck-hunting cabins that had seen better days. Legend has it, even an NFL big shot used to hunt here. Right before sealing the deal, the previous owners were close to tearing the cabins down. But the Millers saw some rustic gold in that wood and decided to dismantle the structures instead, aiming to breathe new life into the aged siding.

Each cabin told its own story. One was the crash pad, still packed with a dozen mattresses—a mash-up of bunk and twin beds in one room, plus a couple of full-size beds in the next. The roof had given up on doing its job here, and most of the windows were a testament to better times gone by. Another cabin was all about the grub; its kitchen setup was surprisingly intact with a fridge, stove, and sink. And then there was the storage shack, standing firm on a concrete foundation, while its siblings squatted on wooden floors that were quickly deteriorating—think rotted planks! 

But here’s where it gets good. The Millers managed to rescue about 60% of that wood, trimming off the rough edges (literally) to weave it into their new digs inside a steel shed—you know, the steel shed that people use for a house—a “shouse.” They power-washed each plank to its former glory, skipped the sanding to keep that rugged charm, and sealed each with a layer of clear varnish. They went all in on a cozy, lived-in vibe.

Installing the siding was a bit like putting together a giant puzzle—using the tongue and groove style on stud walls, pinned down with finishing nails. Some of the boards were stripped in half for the trim to keep up the rustic look. The roofing boards got a new lease on life too. They were cleaned up, painted, and lined up for a shiplap statement wall. All in all, it took about a week of prep and DIY magic to get everything up and looking sharp.

While many of our books feature recycled materials, Meg Simonds, featured in Small Homes, explains it best: “Building with recycled wood is a slow and arduous affair, from finding it to pulling the last nail. It is a lot of work and rarely is it delivered. The payoff is twofold. The quality of older wood generally surpasses that of new, and its deep, rich beauty only comes with age. For us, more importantly, [we love] getting to have a truly deep relationship with the wood. All this wood once had a home, an ancient forest, the lungs of the Earth; little of this remains. The best we can do now is to have a deep respect for what was and what is. We approached building our home with this in mind.” (pg. 126-127)

It’s now available in independent bookstores.

I’m doing the following appearances:

• Saturday, March 16th, 7 PM at Mollusk Surf Shop, 4500 Irving Street, San Francisco (maps)
• Tuesday, March 19th, 7 PM at Bookshop Santa Cruz, 1520 Pacific Ave., Santa Cruz (maps)
• Wednesday, April 17th, 6:30 PM, Gallery Bookshop, 319 Kasten Street, Mendocino, Calif. (maps)
• Friday, April 26th, 7 PM, Book Passage, 51 Tamal Vista Blvd., Corte Madera, Calif. (maps)

Some early reader feedback:

“…a breathtaking new book…”

–Kay LeRoy, Book Passage, Corte Madera, Calif.

“Driftwood Shacks is spectacular!”

–J. Tony Serra, Lawyer, San Francisco

“…a marvelous book with lovely pictures of the California Coast.”

–Eliot Buchdruker, CPA, San Francisco

“Driftwood Shacks is splendid, a tribute to Lloyd’s fine and undimmed eye.”

–John Van der Zee, author

“…fascinating, ephemeral forms of spontaneous architecture.”

–Elise Cannon, Publishers Group West

“…fantastic new book”

–Chris “Uncle Mud” McClellan, natural builder

Deek designed this 23’ tall “robot tree house” on his land in Vermont.

• See his website at Relaxshacks.

Waioli Mission Hall stands as a major monument of Hawaiian architectural history, the primary inspiration for the Hawaiian double-pitched hipped roof so widely popularized by C. W. Dickey in the 1920s. Built by the Reverend William P. Alexander, Dickey’s grandfather, the plaster walls of the frame structure repose beneath a sprawling roof and encircling lanai. The roof, originally thatched, was shingled in 1851. Similarly, the freestanding, ohia-framed belfry at the rear of the mission was of thatch construction, but most likely received a covering of shingles in the same year. The form of the twenty-five-foot-high belfry drew upon a long British and American colonial tradition. Common in its day, today it stands as the sole surviving example of its type in Hawaii.

This was the third church building on the site, with the earlier thatched edifices falling prey to fire and storms. It remained a center for worship until the completion of Waioli Huiia Church in 1912, when it became a community hall for the church, a function it still serves today. The building has been thrice restored: in 1921 by Hart Wood, in 1978 by Bob Fox, and again in 1993, following Hurricane Iniki, by Designare Architects.

• www.sah-archipedia.org/…

Interior of 30′ diameter geodesic dome built by @lloyd.kahn in 1972 in Northern California. Struts are 2 × 3 Douglas Fir, paneling is 1 × 6 Douglas Fir recycled subflooring from Treasure Island Navy barracks.

• From @shelterpub’s Instagram post