IT’S BEEN half a year. Half a year into the strawbale building process of our home of hearts. We chose to build in termite country using steel members as portal uprights and tie beams. We love bush poles but the height of the two storey building, being lifted off ground level 70 cm on one side and 1.8 metres at the other, left our only other option as large treated pine poles. We dislike them much more than our non-toxic steel, which while high in embodied energy can and no doubt will be recycled one day in the far future.

I have not missed a nail, bolt or screw. At times I swallowed the feeling of disempowerment as our wonderful helpers/friends/carpenters reached for the spirit level and nail gun. Left for me was to plan, organise, source materials, clean and dream. Dream of the day the roof is on, the outside perimeter is tarped, the sparking of grinders and welders has stopped and I can turn this wondrous straight and pompous looking structure into what it will be:our home, a big warm hug to come home to, welcoming, standing bent and imperfect — like us.

The time has come

A couple of weeks before the outside bale walls are due to go up I find an internal wall then go play . . .

The aim of the game is to create curve and shape and have as much fun as possible. My recipe is firstly, throw away the level. Second, find some old dead trees and branches. Third, use baling twine, bamboo sticks, birdwire, Hessian bags, straw, clay, cement and lime, and combine all of them into something that manages to hide all the perfection that the workers before me have created, hide all the straight huge steel columns and straight stud framing.

I wire up the stud walls, infill the cavity with biscuits of straw then render to create shape along the main living area internal walls — kitchen, corridors, and living room. To hide the huge columns I create fake arches. I fix bush poles between the ceiling and floor near the columns. They just stand there and look pretty. They have no structural purpose at all, are joined with other branches and then again wired and biscuited ready for render.

Visitors to the site ask what would make me do this? Why not use plasterboard on the entire house inside and be done with it? When did you say you wanted to move in? All this added work, making straight walls bent, is going to take you ages . . .

I wonder....

Is it a psychological defect somewhere? Is it a delayed reaction to growing up in organised, very straight, conforming Germany? Why don’t I like it straight and easy? Why don’t I like nice new cars but drive around in a 40 year old, round bomb? Why am I not shaped like a board but curved — like my walls.

Is it maybe that my mind is happiest as an extension of nature? If I look outside I can’t see anything nature created that has turned out straight. No plant, rock, animal. Not one bit on the human body externally is straight. Why must our mind then be straight? Everything I touch too turns into something non-straight.

I wonder....

It is not a family affliction, that’s for sure. My family loves straight and proper. To me Shape is Perfect. To me Shape has Soul. To me Shape is Home. Shape sets my mind Free.

I think this happens for others too. Visitors to the cottage (the strawbale Willows Muse) repeatedly mention the feeling of comfort, safety, coming home, all being right and as it should be. I believe it is the non-straightness of that building too that wakens these feelings. Genetic memory? Humans have spent many thousands of years seeking safety and living fulfilled lives with our clans in caves, domes and the like. They were made of natural materials and certainly not built by grabbing the spirit level. We also still love staring into a fire, just sitting there and watching the flames. I believe it brings out similar feelings — feelings of home, safety, togetherness and comfort.

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