Earthen Architecture

“Filling a space in a beautiful way – that is what art means to me.” – Georgia O’Keeffe

By Jason Takahashi

In 1943, renowned artist Georgia O’Keeffe purchased the abandoned ruin of an 18th century Spanish colonial home 50 miles northwest of Sante Fe in the unincorporated village of Abiquiú, New Mexico. She first noticed the property on her way to Ghost Ranch where she famously spent time away from New York City and began her journey capturing the essence of the Southwest. One day she pulled over and scoured the site, finding caved-in roofs, a water well and a long earthen wall featuring a small door that she was desperate to call her own. After the passing of her husband, O’Keeffe embarked on a three year rehabilitation of the property with the help and expertise of her friend Maria Chabot, which would eventually yield her home and studio for the next 35 years.

Designated as a National Landmark in 1998, the O’Keeffe Home and Studio possesses a room that dates back to at least the 1740’s. Records obtained by the artist suggest it was the site for the first Spanish colonial house in Abiquiú, which was only inhabited for a little over a decade due to constant attacks from nomadic bands of Ute and Comanche warriors. However, archaeological evidence also establishes the area as a prehistoric pueblo dating back nearly 5,000 years. Starting around 1200 A.D, it was inhabited by the Tewa Pueblo people, who abruptly abandoned their settlements around 300 years later. The U.S. Department of the Interior calls the site “the most commanding and strategic in Abiquiú,” suggesting the possibility of an on-going evolution of the space and structures present by subsequent inhabitants across time – including O’Keeffe in the mid 20th century.

The mix of beauty and history engrained in this iconic landmark serves as a strong reminder of the legacies our spaces create. Most modern homes aren’t meant to last centuries, something we generally accept. But what if we could extend the lifespan of our homes through sustainable, low carbon footprint structures that use local resources? Furthermore, what if they yielded tangible benefits in terms of improved air and sound quality, reduced environmental impact, and increased readiness and resilience? It’s unlikely many of us would answer no, yet everywhere we look, homes less than a century old are being decimated by extreme weather, or simply being torn down and rebuilt with essentially the same materials that lack the longevity of older building techniques.

In her published letter correspondence with O’Keeffe during the rebuild, Maria Chabot speculated Indigenous indentured servants (known as genizaro) – who were given residence at the site when the Spanish returned to Abiquiú – constructed their dwellings on the hand-crafted adobe foundations of the abandoned Tewa pueblo. She also noted that in the following century, when the site was occupied by a local official, the house was expanded again. Using stone foundations and sunbaked adobe bricks which Spanish settlers had made common during their occupation of the area, they built rows of rooms organized around a common open space – also known as a hacienda. This period also included the construction of an irrigation system that boasted earthen walls to support a garden which could utilize the fresh spring water the land offered and provide fresh food sources in an otherwise difficult agricultural climate. 

O’Keeffe and Chabot embraced this historical, yet evolving design that emerged from the land on which it sat and found ways to open it up to both the natural and modern worlds. With the help of engineers from Sante Fe and local Abiquiú labor, they wired electricity while simultaneously unlocking natural light via skylights and sprawling windows that allowed the stunning surroundings to pour into the refurbished, modernized interior. What was once an ancient strategic stronghold effectively transformed into an epicenter of art and creation. 

If we put ourselves in O’Keeffe and Chabot’s shoes, what solutions would we employ to not just rehabilitate but regenerate our modern ruins? When entire neighborhoods of timber frames go up in flames, how do we ensure new structures can survive the threat that still looms while simultaneously limiting their effect on the climate crisis at large?  When we think about rehabilitating our collective structures, what blend of modern tools and time-tested techniques can provide both short and long-term value? And can we trust that honoring both is as good of an indicator as any of a healthy way forward?

Since the dawn of this century, professional engineer and architectural designer Lisa Morey P.Eng. has been collecting answers to these questions. Lisa started her work as an architectural design graduate student in New Zealand in the early 2000s. As she finished her studies, she became involved in a design-build firm that constructed nearly 50 adobe brick homes, inspiring her book, “Adobe Homes for All Climates”. Like New Mexico, New Zealand has helped pioneer extensive building codes and material standards to help develop what they call a “decarbonizing building industry”. In this spirit, Lisa started Colorado Earth, a company based in Golden, Colorado that specializes in manufacturing compressed stabilized earth construction blocks, known as Ecoblox, made from overburdened sand and clay sourced from a nearby granite quarry. Her team walks clients through the entire design-build process and have made coordinated efforts to support victims of the recent Marshall Fire in Boulder County seeking to rebuild.

The terms ‘adobe bricks’ and ‘earth blocks’ are often used interchangeably. They both represent the majority of building blocks made from simple materials like earth and plant matter which are then air or sun-dried – like the ones in Abiquiú. Compressed earth blocks, however, are blocks manufactured in a mechanical press using a mix of inorganic subsoil, non-expansive clay and fine aggregate which can then be stabilized using a small percentage of additional cement or lime. Using a handful of machines and tools, raw earth materials are screened into finer particles and mixed together before being shaped and dampened at about 1,000-1,800 PSI and stacked on a pallet. After curing, the result is a high-performance, water resistant, fireproof wall solution fit for a variety of applications. 

Like traditional adobe bricks, compressed earth blocks can be produced on-site using local resources provided the proper equipment and soil composition are available. At first, this may sound a bit idealistic for modern home building but consider the Sweet Shade Farm in Montecito, California. Rather than purchasing fired clay brick for the exterior, architect Jeff Shelton brought in the Colorado Earth team to produce compressed blocks on site using local soil, helping achieve considerable reductions in embodied carbon, energy and transportation costs. Additionally, the lumber for the flooring and roof was repurposed Douglas-fir from a closed motel down the road. In an effort to maximize the thermal energy transfer effects of compressed earth blocks, they tripled the number of rows installed on the South facing side of the home. Whether temperatures dip on cool summer nights or heat up during sunny winter days, the earthen walls naturally regulate the temperature inside, reducing the need for powered climate control especially in the event of outages and other extreme weather events. 

In their early days, compressed earth blocks incentivized affordable housing developers to consider them as an essential building material for facilitating positive social change and upward mobility for underserved populations. Throughout Mexico, there are an estimated 250,000 compressed earth block homes that have been constructed without the need for traditional timber frames and with the help of local labor who can then inhabit the dwellings upon completion. Similarly, UNESCO designates an annual TERRAFIBRA Global Award in Contemporary Earthen and Plant Fibre Architecture to celebrate achievements in the field. 

Building and living within earthen walls is a common thread that has connected and protected us throughout history. Like most things that expand access and opportunity, everyone can likely benefit from its widespread use. In Montecito, compressed blocks are cast in more of a supporting role to help remind a broader audience what is possible when we think outside the brick. However, they are also more than capable of taking the lead in a more human-centered drama, like the story of a community rebuilding from the ashes of the past or a species learning to lessen its impact before it’s too late.  Reducing our reliance on timber, brick and concrete are logical short-term steps towards decarbonizing the design-build world. Similarly, when we zoom out, it offers hopes of future generations having the chance to step into the spaces we decided to fill and see the commitment, creativity and intention behind our efforts.