A remarkable hand-built and handcrafted cabin, that appears to have materialized out of a remote Norwegian fjord, re-writes the rulebook on organic architecture, and will baffle even the most frontier-spirited, as to how it actually got there.
The astonishing structure was in fact hand built by local carpenter Trygve Øvstebø, with the help of one or two assistants, a snowmobile, and more importantly a helicopter to ship in materials and supplies. The helicopter pilot was even involved, as something of a communication ‘go-between’ betwixt Øvstebø and the project architects, esteemed international Oslo and NY based practice Snøhetta. In other words this was a remarkable logistical journey. But why build at all on this remotest of sites?
“I have been thinking about this specific spot and this specific project for the last 40 years, it goes back to my childhood,” explains owner Osvald Bjelland, on his idea behind commissioning the cabin. “This is not just my dream but my father’s dream and my grandfather’s dream.”
“For me as a young boy I roamed these mountains with my father and uncles, just as they had done with my grandfather,” explains Bjelland. “We had to use the mountains to survive by taking the sheep there in the summer, to allow the grass on the farm to grow, then we could use this to feed the sheep in the winter when we could use this to feed the sheep in the winter when we brought them back.”
“Whenever we had been climbing for three hours from our farm we came to this exact spot - where the cabin is now. We would be tired and in late September there would be snow so it was pretty challenging. I remember as a young boy, my father would lean on his walking stick and say ‘Osvald, we should have a cabin here for some rest’. For generations we’ve always had the little dream that on this specific spot we would have a place to rest before we carried on into the mountains. As I’m the first in the family to travel to the city and make a little bit of money, I could afford to build it. My ancestors never had the resources to do it.”
“It’s a very harsh climate,” says Kjetil Thorsen, Founding Partner of Snøhetta, who worked closely with Bjelland on the design of the cabin. “So we chose a form that distributes the snow loads effectively, because at certain times of the year you can’t even see the building for snow. That’s why I chose the curved form, where one side is very steep and the other side is like a wind barrier with the natural stone climbing up. The glazing faces south, which is optimal for solar gain, and this warms up the building and melts the snow.” The entrance is also tucked into the south façade, a two part ‘stable’ door making it possible to enter from the top door if the snow is too deep on the ground.
As well as being able to shoulder the snow load, the cabin is in no danger of being whipped up in the whirling winds like Dorothy’s Kansas shack in The Wizard of Oz dream scene. “It’s a low tech building, constructed using local pine and traditional timber joints, but we do have some steel in there. One steel beam runs along the roof to hold the curve in place and there are steel connections to the bedrock to anchor the structure,” says Thorsen. “The weight of the building is important, and the earth and turf on the roof has been good for stability and the vibration of the building when the winds blow.”
Although it’s a “low-tech” building, its construction clearly had its challenges. In terms of the process the whole building was prefabricated then taken down and brought up in pieces. This included the heavy steel frame, which had to be helicoptered in parts and hovered over the exact spot on the site to be dropped in with precision. Builder Øvstebø, who lived in a tepee on site during the week and was helicoptered home at weekends, with his construction companion, Norwegian black Elkhound Castor, is characteristically modest about his valiant efforts in sub zero temperatures.
Written by Caroline Ednie
BANGER
wood forest
Prefabricated architectural concept by architect Emelie Holmberg. I photographed the first made situated in unspoiled woodlands on the island of Väddö, Sweden.
It grew out of a realization of changing living and working patterns partly precipitated by the pandemic. Pre-Covid, Emelie had dreamt of a more flexible lifestyle facilitated by technology, allowing her to work remotely wherever she chose, so long as she had internet access.
This partly sparked the idea for Gimme Shelter, which began life as a concept for her own self-build, low-cost home. The project comprises two structures. One measures 32 sq m and contains a living room, kitchen, and bathroom; the other occupies 10sq m and houses a bedroom.
GIMME SHELTER
A remarkable hand-built and handcrafted cabin, that appears to have materialized out of a remote Norwegian fjord, re-writes the rulebook on organic architecture, and will baffle even the most frontier-spirited, as to how it actually got there. The astonishing structure was in fact hand built by local carpenter Trygve Øvstebø, with the help of one or two assistants, a snowmobile, and more importantly a helicopter to ship in materials and supplies. The helicopter pilot was even involved, as something of a communication ‘go-between’ betwixt Øvstebø and the project architects, esteemed international Oslo and NY based practice Snøhetta. In other words this was a remarkable logistical journey. But why build at all on this remotest of sites? “I have been thinking about this specific spot and this specific project for the last 40 years, it goes back to my childhood,” explains owner Osvald Bjelland, on his idea behind commissioning the cabin. “This is not just my dream but my father’s dream and my grandfather’s dream.” “For me as a young boy I roamed these mountains with my father and uncles, just as they had done with my grandfather,” explains Bjelland. “We had to use the mountains to survive by taking the sheep there in the summer, to allow the grass on the farm to grow, then we could use this to feed the sheep in the winter when we could use this to feed the sheep in the winter when we brought them back.” “Whenever we had been climbing for three hours from our farm we came to this exact spot - where the cabin is now. We would be tired and in late September there would be snow so it was pretty challenging. I remember as a young boy, my father would lean on his walking stick and say ‘Osvald, we should have a cabin here for some rest’. For generations we’ve always had the little dream that on this specific spot we would have a place to rest before we carried on into the mountains. As I’m the first in the family to travel to the city and make a little bit of money, I could afford to build it. My ancestors never had the resources to do it.” “It’s a very harsh climate,” says Kjetil Thorsen, Founding Partner of Snøhetta, who worked closely with Bjelland on the design of the cabin. “So we chose a form that distributes the snow loads effectively, because at certain times of the year you can’t even see the building for snow. That’s why I chose the curved form, where one side is very steep and the other side is like a wind barrier with the natural stone climbing up. The glazing faces south, which is optimal for solar gain, and this warms up the building and melts the snow.” The entrance is also tucked into the south façade, a two part ‘stable’ door making it possible to enter from the top door if the snow is too deep on the ground. As well as being able to shoulder the snow load, the cabin is in no danger of being whipped up in the whirling winds like Dorothy’s Kansas shack in The Wizard of Oz dream scene. “It’s a low tech building, constructed using local pine and traditional timber joints, but we do have some steel in there. One steel beam runs along the roof to hold the curve in place and there are steel connections to the bedrock to anchor the structure,” says Thorsen. “The weight of the building is important, and the earth and turf on the roof has been good for stability and the vibration of the building when the winds blow.” Although it’s a “low-tech” building, its construction clearly had its challenges. In terms of the process the whole building was prefabricated then taken down and brought up in pieces. This included the heavy steel frame, which had to be helicoptered in parts and hovered over the exact spot on the site to be dropped in with precision. Builder Øvstebø, who lived in a tepee on site during the week and was helicoptered home at weekends, with his construction companion, Norwegian black Elkhound Castor, is characteristically modest about his valiant efforts in sub zero temperatures. Written by Caroline Ednie