The ruins of Dunalastair House in Scotland

A few years ago, I had the pleasure to seek out an architectural adventure whilst staying at a beautiful Scottish hunting lodge on the banks of Loch Rannoch. With everyone out shooting, I distracted myself by perusing the library. Here I stumbled upon a book documenting various castle ruins around the United Kingdom. Much to my surprise, I realized one such ruin lay not far away. Too intrigued to stay away, I jumped in the car (only to realize I had to quickly acclimate myself to not only navigating on the other side of the road but also to driving a manual car). The house, however, was definitely worth the visit and the illegal trespassing which ensued.

Very cool Aerial footage of Dunalastair House

Designed in 1852 by Andrew Heiton, Dunalastair House is a huge Victorian castle of storybook proportions. Constructed on a square-plan of Baronial design, the castle lends itself to the imagination by incorporating soaring towers and immense proportions. Despite the beauty still evident in its facade, the house is very much a ruin. However, imagination certainly allows one to look past the wreckage brought on by time and exposure to the environment.

My inspection and consequent sketches of Dunalastair House brought on interesting thoughts on design and its impact on a home’s longevity. Dunalastair is still a relatively ‘new’ castle to be in such huge disrepair. The home’s history, however, sheds insight into the importance of architectural features, particularly the roof. After it was vacated by the family in the 1950’s, vandals stole the lead roof lining causing the unsealed roof to leak. Over the last five decades, these leaks caused all three floors to fall in. Consequently, the walls and facade of Dunalastair still stand staunchly firm in their resolute beauty but the interior now houses a wild array of flora and fauna.

The story of Dunalastair points towards the all-important value of a good roof. In all likelihood, Dunalastair would be in far better shape if its roof had not been compromised in the sixties. It also begs the point that what truly makes a shelter hospitable is its roof.

Although the architectural maxim “form follows function” was only coined in the late nineteenth/ early twentieth century by Louis Sullivan, in reality generation after generation of architects and designers alike have developed architectural forms in response to functional necessity. The form and function of a roof is no different. As shown with the case of Dunalastair House, the successful longevity of a building often relies on its roof. As I have mentioned in previous blog posts, the roof not only protects the interior of the building but shields the exterior as well. Perhaps the best way to understand a roof is to compare it with a hat.

Hats (like roofs) are often pitched and have an overhang. In essence, the roof is the building’s hat. Like the brim of a hat, the roof and its overhang protect the user from the sun, wind, rain, and snow. The analogy extends when we consider geography and its corresponding effect on both hats and roofs. The closer one moves to the equator, the longer the hat’s brim extends in length. Sombreros and Panama hats, for example, were all invented with the intention of protecting the wearer from the extreme sun found near the equator. Geographically, the roof responds in a similar manner. Take two cultures separated by thousands of miles. In Cambodia, for example, the steeped pitched roof and extended overhang of this country’s vernacular architecture mimics the rice hat (otherwise known as a one-dōu). Both hat and roof protect the user from the heavy tropical rains and the burning sunshine of the equatorial regions of Asia. Furthermore, the steeped pitch compensates for the heavy, humidity and encourages the heat to rise rather than remain trapped near the head (or ground floor of a home).

Cambodian vernacular architecture and a one-dōu

Hats and roofs in the U.K. correspond in a similar manner. Take, for example, the famous English, Trilby hat. The narrower brim of this hat provides ample protection in the temperate climate of England. Furthermore, the downward angle of the brim protects the face from the country’s famous drizzle. Finally, the hat’s pitch lies closer to the skull which provides warmth. Similarly, English homes from cottage to country house often have an overhang that provides just enough coverage as to protect from the elements but also allow sunlight to filter inside. Unlike the dramatic pitched roofs of vernacular Cambodian architecture, English roofs have a gentle slope which insulates the home while preventing water from pooling and causing leaks.

All in all, shared analogies between hat and home help demonstrate why certain factors should always be taken into consideration when building a structure. Architecture, like clothing, often develops distinct features and styles in response to environmental factors. Examining why certain features (like roofs, windows, materials, etc.) evolve over time helps the modern architect successfully implement new designs.

When designing a new home, I now often reflect on Dunalastair House. The home’s current ‘hatless state’ encourages me to take into consideration the environmental factors the roof might face and to don the home with appropriate headgear!

A quick sketch completed whilst visiting Dunalastair

A Place in the Shade