Project 1: Saving the Soul of Casa Orosei

In our minds, we have renovated countless houses. In practice, a few less. The first in Cuglieri was Casa Orosei.

We have always been attracted to what we called ‘orphans’ – houses that needed a bit of love and attention to bring out their character. In Sardinia, there are plenty of parentless houses. After many visits, we decided that Cuglieri was the place we wanted a house. We were looking for a smaller traditional place, with a hidden history and charm that we could uncover. Our ambition was merely to fix it up simply, in order not to destroy its soul. For every house has a soul, or so we thought.

After several trips and careful consideration, we had made a shortlist of two houses and started discussing the possibilities a local builder. Then Simona, the assistant estate agent, mentioned in passing that as we were so keen on views, perhaps we would like to see another place that had a nice terrace. She explained that she had not shown it to us initially, because it did not fulfil our wish of an old place. So, we went to have a look. Despite being in Crabola, the oldest neighbourhood of Cuglieri, it was modern or at least the façade was put in place in the late sixties. This was the worst period ever for building and one could tell. Giant windows, very uncharacteristic for a hot climate like Sardinia’s, were falling out of their oxidised aluminium frames and ran riot across the front of the house. Almost all were different sizes with no relationship to each other and knocking into the stone wainscot and the balconies, which had red bricks where we have iron railings now. One big charmless room followed the other. Each had different types of rubbish in it, but with the same damp marks on the wall. The bathroom stank and the excuse of a kitchen was on the ground floor. This was a house without a soul.

But then, we stepped onto the terrace and were stunned by the view of the sea, the mountains and the village. In the beginning, we just stared at the sea. Who does not want a sea view? But what kept our interest was the view of the village. All the shapes and sizes and colours and all the human being making themselves a life within it. Instantly, we decided to buy the house. Only to wonder, what had we done? We had bought a monster of a house. If it had a soul, it was an evil one. The house had found us and fooled us into buying it.

We developed a simple strategy. Get some harmony into the façade by reducing the windows, tear the entire inside out, and try to get some sort of individuality into each room. Instead of listening to the house and trying to respond to it, we let our imagination run wild.

The house grew. It grew out of our fantasies and our interaction with the artisans that did the job. They were very patient with our ideas, trying to work out if they could be realised. They also had many ideas of their own. After all, they have knowledge that stretches way back. Without them, the house would never have become what it is. They far exceeded our expectations. But the plumber let us down. The advanced technology we wanted for ecological reasons and warmth (something rare in houses in Sardinia during the winter) was a bridge too far. No traditional knowledge involved there. However, after many twists and turns, the heating system fell into place too. And, by accident, we even found a little bit of the old soul of the house. The plaster on the ground floor was so rotten damp that we decided to replace it. Underneath were the medieval walls that had been covered up during the sixties. There are no completely 20th century houses in the centro storico of Cuglieri. They are just disguised as being modern. Most houses in the older parts of Cuglieri began their lives in medieval times, or even earlier, as one-story houses with domestic quarters, stables and storage connected to each other. On the ground floor of our house, various blocked doors witness of the entrances to what are now neighbouring houses. As generations past, the houses where subdivided by siblings and grew upwards instead, one floor at a time, until each family had a narrow building with many floors. In the late sixties, our house was created by uniting two such houses. A fourth floor and a roof terrace were added, and a single façade created.

Regrets? A dumb waiter to the kitchen on the top floor spiralled out of control and became a lift that is mainly used to test that it is working. At first, we could not reconcile ourselves to the stone work-surfaces in the kitchen. We wanted something much simpler and modern, but the stonemasons felt they were not doing their job if they did not work more on the slabs of stone. Now, we have come to like it as an expression of the Sardinian heritage of the house. The doors and windows have exactly the right colour and translucence. They were hand painted rather than sprayed. In retrospect, we should have had a transparent matte lacquer sprayed on at the end to make them easier to keep clean.

Overall, we enjoy the place greatly. The process of its creation has merely wetted our appetite. One thing is for sure, we have been smitten by what local foreigners call the “Cuglieri sickness” - the wish to take care of neglected houses in Cuglieri.

Jonathan Clyne