A Fold of Chairs | At Home With Scott Batty

Scott, An Architect from st Albans, first came to us as a customer, but over time conversations about furniture gradually became conversations about architecture, sustainability and the way we choose to live.

Emily recently spent some time photographing the home he designed for himself and wife Abby and their 2 children - a carefully adapted 1970s house that feels both thoughtful and deeply lived in.

The house itself feels like a reflection of Scott’s approach. Rather than stripping away its character or trying to impose something entirely new, it has evolved slowly over time, working with what was already there. There is a calmness to the spaces and a sense of ease that is difficult to pinpoint. Not minimalist or overly designed, but beautifully considered. .

I think it resonated with me because there are parallels with things I often think about. The idea of keeping and adapting rather than replacing. Of using what already exists and finding value in it, rather than endlessly searching for something new. Scott talks about sustainability in a way that feels practical and optimistic rather than preachy - do the most with the least, work with what is already there, don’t throw things away simply because something newer exists.

I couldn’t agree more. Whether it is architecture, furniture or the objects we live alongside every day, there is something really meaningful about allowing things to evolve and gather stories over time. I also left feeling inspired by Scott’s optimism. Alongside all the conversations around sustainability and longevity, there was a real sense of positivity about the future and the role good design can still play within it.

- Caroline

Can you tell us a little about the house and how you first came to live here?

The house was built in the 1970s. Wide plot, wide house, classic seventies design and form of construction. After we had bought it I did some research and was amazed how many houses of this type, and very similar design, were built in the seventies. Almost 2 million in the UK.

Myself, wife and children (7 and 6 years old when we bought it) lived in the area and pushed ourselves to buy close to the ‘worst house on the best street’

You designed the house yourself, did you always know what you wanted it to feel like?

We liked the existing house. It made us smile. We were led on everything by the existing 1970s house. We wanted to work with its true 70s nature, not obscure or obliterate it.

Before we started, we lived in it for 2 years before any building work, I think I knew what I wanted it to feel like, but not exactly how it would look.

There’s something very calm about the way the spaces flow into one another. Was that important to you from the beginning?

Yes. We wanted a layout that was flexible and we could open and close off during the seasons. The existing 1970s wood floor works well to bring the ground floor spaces together.

The calm is more difficult to pin point and attribute. Hopefully partly from us as a family, partly from the calm of the street and setting. But this is not a form of minimalism.

A lot of houses talk about sustainability now, but this feels much more considered and long term. What were the environmental ideas that mattered most to you when designing it?

Target space heating first. The single biggest chunk [60-70%) of carbon emissions from a house

Fabric first- upgraded glazing. Upgraded insulation.

Passive solar gain through south facing glazing, whilst shading it from the highest summer sun.

Throw out the minimum. We had only a couple of builders skips. We reused sanitary ware, kitchen unit carcasses and all the roof joists of the rear extension and the garage.

A layout that can close in winter and open up in summer.

Retrofitting older buildings is becoming a much bigger conversation. Do you think we need to become better at adapting and improving homes rather than constantly rebuilding?

Absolutely. Do the most with the least. Beware fashion cycles in anything which are only generated to make us buy more, more often, then throw it out. It’s exactly the same in interiors as it is with shoes. Save up for longer, spend more, back your choice, get value out of it for decades. Take the bold choice of using what is already there. Revealing and mining for quality. Take things away rather than adding them. Anybody who says this is not creative is, well, not creative.

Even though we are in a climate emergency - It’s all about the long game. Take your time. No knee jerk decisions or choices. Don’t be afraid to change something if it’s a fight.

Has your thinking around sustainability changed over the years?

Yes it’s changed. Dare I say it but I’m now prepared to wait. Not to jump for a technical fix or become fixated on numbers, data and metrics. Also not to beat ourselves up. We have to live.

The house feels very connected to the landscape and light outside. Are there particular times of day or seasons when it feels at its best?

Yes! This time of year! Late spring/ early summer. The square of meadow ( that used to be a lawn) at the back takes off- we just let it go. All the grasses at the front, again, just let them do their thing as nature intended. The light outside is brighter, all the plants are vibrant. By comparison the living room inside is dark. I like that. Again, Japanese I think. Contrast. There is not light for light's sake, or space for space's sake for that matter. The interior and exterior can be connected and counter point, but they don’t have to be the same.

What drew you to modernist and midcentury architecture originally?

It’s everywhere, it’s perhaps cliched now, but I love it. What a time that was to be a designer, to be in the world, looking forward after the World Wars, proud and unbounded, experimental but deeply considered. A deep rooted sense of making the world and people’s life’s better. Building the Barbican Centre in London!! We are so far away from that in the modern world. It was not all good and perfect - but that time will never come again.

There’s a warmth here that people don’t always associate with modern architecture. How do you stop a house feeling too clinical?

Overlapping layers: The base structure that creates the space, the large pieces of furniture that hold the space, then the sprinkling of smaller interesting objects through the space. Don’t have anything that doesn’t have a connection or back story. Throw in a few small, ugly things. Change things, curate your own exhibits, just for a change.

Be bold. You have to be bold and brave with decisions and choices. But: If you have to try too hard to make it work, to force it, it’s not the right thing.

I heard a nice story about a fashion designer. Everytime she was getting ready to go out she would put on her outfit, her accessories. She had a mirror right by her front door. The rule she made for herself was: Right at the last minute, just before stepping out, she would have to remove one thing. That is being bold and brave..

I think there is a myth about everything having to be meticulous and perfect. I HATE all that, everything having to be just-so. Architects are often the worst advocates for this perfectionism. There is a nice definition of what makes something beautiful that I’ve held onto. I think it was used to describe an abstract painting. I’ve forgotten the painting, but I like the description and I think it applies just as well to architecture and interiors: Order discernible through chaos.

Do you think good furniture changes the way people interact within a space? What makes a piece of furniture worth keeping for decades?

Something like our 1950s daybed/ sofa just ‘holds the space’- not in a showy, attention grabbing way, but through its lines, it’s form and it’s texture. And, you want to sit on it, to lie on it - that’s a lot to do with the structure of the upholstery. I can’t imagine that part of the house, overlooking the back garden without that piece of furniture there. It completely makes that space, creates that setting.

This is just my latest thing because I went there last week: Skara Brae in Orkney has the remains of a cluster of Neolithic, 5000 year old human dwellings. You can see inside the actual houses. In one house there are beds and there is a sideboard made of slabs of stone, centred on a wall of the house. It’s got open shelves at the top and cupboards at the bottom and it was used to store and display things, important things and also clutter, just like we do today. Completely modern, flat pack, stone furniture (but ask me in 6 months and I will have forgotten all about it…!).

Are there particular materials you find yourself repeatedly drawn to?

Yes timber - for many reasons - not least that I can actually cut and work with it myself. I physically can’t work in steel or glass. But timber is expensive now! Larch and birch ply that I have used a lot of on the house here - they are now luxury items - a shame.

I love my firewood! That is cheap, free if I cut it myself.

Do you have a favourite room?

You know by now you will not get a simple answer to that question! My least favourite things are the sliding doors that don’t slide very well and I’m putting off having to adjust.

This time of year - in Spring - it’s all about the garden. I love the way the apple tree at the back creates a space - under its canopy and this space kind of joins the house and garden together. And best of all this was almost designed and deliberate by us. Except, when I was drawing the plans I drew the tree trunk as the main element - in actual fact, and I have learned this, when there are leaves on the tree it is not the trunk that is an object, but the space created by the canopy that dominates and can be worked with. The space that the object- the tree- makes. And I hope that is a Japanese idea.

Is there an object or piece of furniture in the house that holds a particularly strong memory?

So many things really. There is often the latest thing, or the oldest thing, or the thing that reminds us of a particular time or occasion. The nice thing is to be able to build up a kind of patchwork and mosaic of stories and memories through objects in the house, but also to discover and rediscover ‘older’ things too. And of course I hope all of us in the family are doing this so there is even more richness and layering going on. I’ve been picking up stones from different places these last few years and bringing them back into the house. Like a demented magpie, but I think inspired by Henry Moore.

What music tends to get played in the house?

We do a lot of BBC Radio 6 Music in the background. My son’s guitar playing is often also in the background as he practices in his room - which is great. The sounds of family life.

What are you reading at the moment?

I’m sorry but I mainly read complete Dad trash: Lee Child, Ken Follett, Bernard Cornwell. The character Jack Reacher is an anti hero: no house, no possessions, completely no ties to anyone or anything. I find a joy in this idea - perhaps because it is the complete release from what I do and what I am.

As an architect, do you ever fully switch off from looking at buildings and interiors?

Very rarely. It’s now hardwired into me. Even in a campervan or tent I tend to make adjustments to the interior, aligning things, trying to use the space better-I can’t leave it alone! But I do have to work at not being defined solely by this in my identity. There is a whole natural world apart from buildings and interiors as well all the other incidental and accidental stuff that can just happen, where you didn’t expect it, and can be a creative prompt. Someone once told me that really successful creatives are always looking outside their ‘field’.

Do friends and family experience the house in the way you hoped they would?

I know and feel that our family loves our home.

I think friends, guests and visitors like coming here. I hope they feel welcome and comfortable. That they can pick anything up and look at it, ask about it, even borrow it.

I have a mind like a video camera - sounds a bit sinister - but I find great joy in observing other people in this setting we’ve made and what they do. I love seeing my wife potter in the garden for example.

I get a massive kick when passers-by do a double take of the house from the front, or some people try to conceal a very deliberate slow drive by observation!

Neighbourly reactions are a funny one. We’ve had more questions and comments about the vertical railway sleepers in the front garden than about anything else we have done in the whole 10 year project.

What makes a house feel timeless to you?

I’m not sure a house should feel timeless - but perhaps the opposite- when you are in it you are time aware. Not 5.45. But the part of day, season, weather etc. This is done through the architecture: light, connection with nature, patterns, routines and behaviours set up. But through this certain aspects are always developing or growing: a tree getting bigger, a material gaining a patina, even a scratch or scuff to something. Of course, if you and people want to return and return to it, and feel a sense of familiarity and connection, year after year, that is a kind of timeless connection.