Learn to modulate this potent design factor

You would think it would be obvious, but sometimes it needs to be said: attention to the third dimension is critical to shaping space. All too often in a rush to plan room-to-room adjacencies and sequencing on a particular floor level, treatment of the third dimension becomes an afterthought. The common default of endless flat ceilings is a missed opportunity. So is circulation between full-height walls in lieu of passage through capped doorways. Even worse, the third dimension is frequently manipulated in a misguided attempt to meet so called “market demand”. Real estate listings boast double-height entries and “great rooms” as assets when often such spaces are poorly designed and prove overwhelming and discomforting. They needn’t be. Spatial variety in the form of interludes with lower ceilings in which to pause or take personal shelter can relieve otherwise tall, open spaces.

The tendency to think in two dimensions, rather than three, means many are only addressing two-thirds of our spatial experience. We can do better. In this primer we’re going to look at everyday outdoor examples in which the third dimension is tempered to create different effects which support different activities, expectations, and moods. I’ll translate those examples to simple diagrams to apply to our indoor environments. With a little thought and common sense, we can begin to harness the rewards of varying the third dimension in our homes.

Intertwine house and garden so that each contributes to the other

As an architect, I’m a house person, but I’m also a garden fan. What I really pine for is a house garden. My mother has one. She also has a garden house, another thing that I pine for. She has created an exquisite house garden at her village property in Connecticut. She describes it as small, a bunch of pockets, and nothing to get worked-up about, but that’s just it; it’s an imaginative series of connected, small gardens that beautifully weave between and among building elements. The pocket spaces are formed thanks to the intricate relationship between her house, her garden shed (or “summer house” as she calls it), her garage, fencing, a gateway arbor, and the surrounding streets on her privet-edged corner lot. Her gardens within those pockets are a delight in large part because of the very things that keep them small and intricate. For her, house and garden are intrinsically intertwined.

The garden shed is one of the greatest enablers of my mother’s gardens. It