Bunkie on the Hill, by Dubbeldam Architecture + Design, is surrounded by Muskoka trees.Riley Snelling Photography
If it’s not too painful or distant, cast your mind back to English lit. Your prof is explaining Plato’s Allegory of the Cave to a (likely) hungover crowd of 19- or 20-year-olds.
For those who actually pay attention, it’s quite thought-provoking: imagine one has been chained in a cave all one’s life; while there is a crevice above and light spills down, the cave dwellers are unable to look up, so their only perception of the things of this world are via the two-dimensional, undetailed shadows they cast down; the philosopher, however, is released from the chains, climbs up, and witnesses the true forms, in all of their glory, lit by the sun.
Architecture can be like that. Often, the buildings we inhabit are just shadows. They’re uninspired, dull and chain us to a mundane reality. They turn us into troll people.
But there are also buildings that usher us out of the darkness. Buildings that show us geometry, tactility, light and volume. Buildings that produce joy and make us feel like intellectual giants just by occupying them. These buildings aren’t easy to conceive of or produce. They take visionary clients and talented architects. And they require extra money, since it’s difficult for imperfect humans to come close to perfect millwork and joinery.
Bunkie on the Hill, by Dubbeldam Architecture + Design, brings us into the light.
It began simply enough. Dan Scott, who owns a cottage near Parry Sound, Ont., found that his family, both out of town and locally, was growing quickly, including grandchildren. So, he decided to build a separate dwelling, a small bunkie, where extended family could have privacy, but still walk over for meals and other gatherings.
He’d already worked with Heather Dubbeldam and he liked her style, so he contacted her. While the cottage (not by Ms. Dubbeldam) has commanding views of a big Muskoka lake, the spot he’d picked was up a hill, and would be surrounded by trees.
“That’s something you did communicate to us,” Ms. Dubbeldam says. “Being immersed in the middle of nature … you’ll get a real sense of the changing of the seasons, and an awareness.”
“Yeah, this place lights up in the fall,” says Mr. Scott. “Another inspiration for the bunkie was COVID hit and, you know, if you’ve got a couple coming up and they’re compromised, or they want to be careful …” Mr. Scott leaves his thought unfinished as he looks out a window, where a tree is framed perfectly.
Bunkie on the Hill, by Dubbeldam Architecture + DesignRiley Snelling Photography
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Many thoughts are lost to the ether in the bunkie. It’s because the mind, now set free by the symphony of ceiling angles, the overdose of vitamin D, the swirling knots trapped inside maple plywood panels, and the smell of western red cedar, all combine to turn one into a budding philosopher who, sometimes, is unable to find the words.
It starts as one stands outside. Looking up, one notices the roof is made of two peaks, one slightly narrower than the other. Two perfect forms, slipping past one another, creating tension, yet locked in a forever-embrace. And then, on one side, a tight row of posts – ”This is supposed to mimic tree trunks,” says Ms. Dubbeldam – that gently guides one to the front door.
Open that door, and, as the master Frank Lloyd Wright taught, the guest is compressed by a lowered ceiling. But the view, straight across a tidy kitchen, terminates at yet another perfectly framed tree. Turn to the right, and Wright’s expansion – that glorious angled cedar ceiling – draws the visitor, like a moth to flame, towards a transparent, triangular wall of glass. And because the mullions (by Bigfoot Door in Mississauga) are impossibly thin, thoughts of structure or R-values (which are good!) are replaced by loftier questions.
Spin on your heel, and you’ll receive an eyeful of wood: the plywood-clad staircase and balcony wall, and that jaw-dropping, symphonic ceiling. Trot up the stair and a cozy nook with a long Dubbeldam-designed desk, bright yellow couch, and a womblike chair await. Sit down and you’ll likely want to stay.
Speaking of stays, the lone, main-floor bedroom has a window so large that frames a scene of forest-and-path so expertly, it will remind those of us of a certain age of the photographic wallcoverings of the 1970s.
But make no mistake, this is a dwelling as modern as 2024. The floor was raised over the Canadian Shield to avoid blasting; it keeps heat inside via triple-pane windows and extra-thick walls; the wood is all Forest Stewardship Council rated; and Blackwell Structural Engineers recommended “flitch beams” to eliminate thermal bridging.
And, try as one might – get down on hands and knees even – and one won’t find shoddy workmanship by HLD Muskoka. Gaps are razor-straight, different materials kiss rather than collide, ceiling angles are boat-builder beautiful, and feelings of both cozy shelter and of communing with big nature are doled in equal doses.
It all adds up to something sublime. Something that breaks the chains of ordinary architecture. Something that frees the mind to think about bigger things. It may be called Bunkie on the Hill, but it’s really an almost-perfect Philosopher’s Nest in the Trees.
No wonder it’s already won multiple awards, and the firm received the 2024 Architectural Practice Award by the Royal Architectural Institute of Canada, and Ms. Dubbeldam a King Charles III Coronation Medal.