At Home
Among the Trees
Creative San Juan project seeks harmony with nature
By Sean Meyers December 19, 2024

This article originally appeared in the November/December 2024 issue of Seattle magazine.
Harriett “Hatty” Hatch began her career as a confident art teacher, but uncertain artist. In time, she would voluntarily check herself into the Harvard University Graduate School of Design.
“I just wanted to be able to design a stable for a horse,” she recalls, “but I didn’t have a horse.”
She eventually crossed trails with a knight, Luis Colasuonno, a native of Buenos Aires who was on a mission when he entered architecture school in 1970.
“I wanted to change the world,” Colasuonno says. “Growing up in Argentina under military repression, we were keenly aware of the problems of the world. Considering that architecture dealt with the environment, I always felt that architects needed to be as much as possible responsible for guiding our culture with socially significant work.”
Hatch was contemplating life in an ivory tower. She was motivated by the visual world, a love of natural and human nature, and “the possibility of gentle synergy” of the two.

“My curiosity just wouldn’t rest,” she says. “Perhaps the study of architecture would land me employment in a sunlit atelier where I could spend my days making beautiful ink drawings. Well, I soon found out that architecture works best as a team sport, with the many disciplines contributing to the success of architectural concept.”
Colasuonno brandished a double-edged proposal, convincing her that they could create better architecture together than alone. That was more than 40 years ago. In California, the couple helped design thousands of LEED-certified affordable and nonprofit housing units. Homeless. veterans, persons with mental disabilities, and special needs teenagers were among the beneficiaries.
“The work was a joy. One woman was crying the day she moved in,” Hatch says. “She said she never thought she would live in a home so beautiful. It was just a one-room apartment, but it was clean, and it was fresh. It’s a tough world out there.”
The couple had remodeled two of their residences in Los Angeles, but had never built a home for themselves from the ground up.
That changed when they bought a sailboat moored in the San Juan Islands, intending to sail it back to Los Angeles. Instead, they submitted a down payment on a sight-unseen 1.5-acre lot near Friday Harbor. They had friends from Los Angeles who were prepping to retire in the area.
“The roofs are like a blanket,” Hatch notes. “When it rains, it’s beautiful.”
The wild lot had never been built on, possibly due to drainage issues. A contractor was hired to cut an exploratory tunnel through a heavy necklace of blackberry vines, uncovering a thriving ecosystem of giant cedars, scrub pine, majestic maples, eagles, and otters. The couple wanted to build a home in harmony with its natural surroundings.
But, despite a common system of values and aesthetic sensibilities, they argued about the San Juan project for a year. They eventually agreed on a conceptual direction and settled on a house that favors overhangs and orients toward the sun.
“We wanted to build a home that was so in harmony with its natural surroundings that it would look as if it had been dropped down from the sky and had wriggled itself into the earth,” Hatch says.
As is their custom, the first consultant hired was a landscape architect to formulate a plan that maximized oxygen production by minimizing disturbances to plant life. The covered front entrance beckons visitors with a bright, hitching-post ambiance. The exterior siding is handsomely stained and varnished yellow cedar, a local material. Aluminum-framed, commercial-grade horizontal window panels also please the eye, while keeping maintenance at a minimum.

The main event in the living room is its cinder block hearth, which is filled with concrete and rebar to create a large thermal mass in concert with the concrete slab foundation. The wood-burning fireplace has no gas inserts.
Alder, the most impoverished of the native tree species, sacrifices itself in wind-storms dependably enough to keep the wood box stocked, eliminating the need for fossil fuels. Local artisans contributed widely to the project, including the library wall, a home to the treasured remnants of their Los Angeles archive. The library also serves as a second insulating wall, and provides storage for Christmas ornaments and other sundries.

The home is inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright, with a major caveat. Unrestrained by modern energy conservation codes, Wright splashed windows about like costume jewelry. Here, each window is treated like a gemstone, precisely placed to create and maintain a 270-degree view. In Los Angeles, most of their designs protected structures from the relentless sun. At this latitude, the opposite is optimal, with strong east and west orientations.
The gallery roof is flat with parapets. Everything else is protected by steeply sloping shed roofs with generous eaves that establish a demilitarized zone against the summer sun and winter weather. Roof and garden runoff is captured and stored for later use as irrigation.
“The roofs are like a blanket,” Hatch notes. “When it rains, it’s beautiful.”
The octagonal geometry of the home is accented by two primary curves. The first is the sweeping arch of the driveway as visitors arrive. The second is the art gallery’s soaring double-height wall, which serves as the project’s datum line and connects with every major section of the home. “It’s doing a tango,” Hatch adds. “You can’t appreciate the black if you don’t have the white.”
The home is comprised of pod-like pavilions set in the landscape, placed sequentially higher in harmony with and in concession to the natural topography. There are four sets of stairs, which Hatch, who is 80, notes is not the safest floor plan for an aging-in-place couple. The gallery features her oil-on-canvas work, largely abstract studies of tree branches, shells and other transitioning objects that were once alive.
The couple entertain frequently, including young partners and staff of Bell Design Group, where they remain senior design associates. Luis is the cook in the family, a task that he executes with a gusto that naturally lures visitors to the kitchen. Chairs at the snack bar serve as opera seats.
Kitchen windows are often placed primarily for the view of anyone working at the sink. Here the layout is different — Colasuonno prefers to face his audience as he works, and the windows are situated for the maximum benefit of sitting guests. One counter was kept free of sinks and other interruptions, to better present flower arrangements and food platters.

Because the kitchen is built for show, the team worked hard to create storage that hides all mundane aspects of food production. Hatch, who classifies Colasuonno’s culinary discipline as “meat-eater,” is delighted to limit her kitchen transactions to the cocktail construction station near the refrigerator.
Learning asado, the art of grilling, is a rite of passage for young Argentinian men. Colasuonno performs his magic on a custom concrete outdoor grill. Again, there are no gas inserts. Wood embers are developed externally and then introduced below the adjustable-level grill, which channels melted fat away from the heat.
Their conference room table was imported from Los Angeles and fashioned into a dining room table. A tree that couldn’t be saved during construction was repurposed as a picnic table.

“The home doesn’t have air conditioning. We didn’t think we needed it,” Colasuonno says. Heat convection and cross-ventilation between high and low windows keep things cool in the summer. They accumulated enough energy credits elsewhere in the home to surround the master bedroom with windows, creating a tree house vibe.
Twice a day and two by two, foxes, raccoons and other local citizens circle and inspect, pressing against the window in sympathy.
“We keep expecting them to throw crackers at us,” Colasuonno says. “These strange creatures trapped behind the glass.”