In an age of electronic hyperbole and information overload, the folk forms found in the handmade houses and barns of the South possess a clear and halting essence. The dogtrot, the shotgun, the two-door tenant house, the I-house, the saddlebag, the double-pen and the central passage are beautiful in their simplicity and directness. These designs float in and out of my early sketches of New Native House plans.

Like American blues music, where three chord changes are an endless source of variation, these folk buildings can be shaped and reshaped in infinite ways. And, like the blues, these folk building styles are grounded and always relevant.

Perhaps the scarcity of materials caused these vernacular houses to possess an accidental simplicity, but when I look at them, I see the intangible quality of knowing. These structures seem to draw their intelligence from the builder’s sense of the physical and intellectual landscape.

The New Native house uses these early buildings not only as reference, but as triggers for new responses and inspiration. Their lack of complexity sets the stage for unpredictable richness as the design evolves.