Anne Decker — Architect

I had the good fortune of growing up in the South Pacific, a lush, tropical landscape dotted with simple, honest, authentic structures. It’s interesting the way our memories are connected with a sense of place formed by the natural and built landscapes around us. Many of my childhood memories are rooted in experiences of simple structures: concrete block houses, Quonset huts, chicken coops. Even today I’m moved by their simplicity, the raw beauty of a concrete block structure designed to withstand typhoon force winds, the curved ribbing of a Quonset hut, the linear extrusion of a chicken coop. Beautiful in form, like a Richard Serra or Donald Judd sculpture, these structures are the most basic expressions of shelter. 

Buildings have a way of touching us. One of my earliest recollections of home is running around, paintbrush in hand, helping my parents breathe life into a handsome, but neglected, older home with panoramic views of the breathtaking Mānoa Valley, overlooking Honolulu. A modest structure, its clean lines consisted of three connected boxes that gracefully stepped to mirror the hillside. Our house encompassed a striking mix of Japanese and modern elements, with broad eave overhangs and oversized floor-to-ceiling glass that blurred the line between inside and outside, pulling in the surrounding greenery. At night, the twinkling city lights of Waikiki glimmered in the far distance. The telescope my dad placed at our dining room window became a permanent fixture that delighted us, revealing details of the stars and night sky.

These memories have stayed with me over the years, and I have often wondered what made this house feel “right.” Was it the seamless connection to nature? The gentle flow of the fresh breeze through glass louvers, or the play of sunlight across the polished concrete floors? Or maybe the way the music reverberated in the living room with its high ceilings, while my sisters and I danced with abandon to Trini Lopez’s “If I Had a Hammer”! Looking back, it’s difficult to pin down the main reason, or even a handful of reasons, why I loved this house. I suppose the magic was how well everything worked together, and the memories it held.

As architects, we strive to create meaningful spaces that bring emotional and physical value, creating a sense of belonging that speaks to us on a personal level. Ultimately, every good design begins with the human experience. Home is not just about shelter and protection; it’s also about emotion and memory. Homes are made to be experienced and touched. And it’s these personal experiences that bring meaning and significance to our work. 

This beautiful collection of homes is a tribute to successful collaboration among architects, clients, contractors, and master craftsmen who – shaped and informed by the unique context of each place and the unique needs and desires of those who will enjoy it – have created a wealth of stylistically diverse structures. Whether a pied-à-terre in New York City or a whimsical cottage in Maine, each home was thoughtfully planned and masterfully created as a haven where daily life is to be celebrated. May the homes that grace these pages guide and inspire you in your personal search for what it means to be home.

by Anne Decker, foreword for New View: A Curated Visual Gallery, Twenty Magnificent Homes by Northeast Architects

Photography by Tom Arban

Photography by Tom Arban

Photography by Tom Arban