A compact white volume gradually opens towards the Pacific landscape through a circular courtyard, a curved concrete wall and a broad roof that reduces the architecture to shelter, shade and framed views.

 

Casa Malonic in Zihuatanejo by HW Studio is a 497m² residence in Punta Garrobo, Guerrero, completed in June 2026. Surrounded by tropical vegetation and overlooking the sea, the house develops through a deliberate transition from enclosure towards openness, using a limited number of architectural elements to regulate privacy, movement and contact with the landscape.

Rather than treating the building as an autonomous object within the site, the design establishes a sequence between street, courtyard, interior and horizon. A continuous roof provides shade, while walls and voids progressively direct the body and the gaze towards the surrounding vegetation and the Pacific Ocean.

 

Shelter as an elementary condition

The conceptual starting point is the enramada, understood as a simple shelter beneath a canopy rather than as a literal reference to vernacular form.

Ground, roof and shade become the project’s fundamental elements. The architecture provides protection from rain and sun while allowing the landscape to remain continuously present around the inhabited areas.

This approach also determines the scale and openness of the main spaces. Rather than framing the horizon as a conventional view from inside a room, the organization of the house develops around its permanent presence.

 

A closed condition towards the street

From the road, Casa Malonic appears as a contained white volume accompanied by a single curved concrete wall.

Following the geometry of the street, the wall establishes a first boundary between the public approach and the private residence. Vegetation, rocks and the natural topography reinforce this protected condition, limiting direct views into the house.

The entrance sequence therefore delays the full perception of the site. The landscape is revealed gradually through movement rather than being immediately exposed from the point of arrival.

This contrast between enclosure and openness becomes one of the main organizing principles of the project.

 

A circular courtyard as a spatial void

The path leads towards a circular courtyard enclosed by white walls.

Here, the relationship with the surroundings changes. Tree canopies, sky and sunlight become visible above the perimeter, while the circular void interrupts the otherwise solid architectural mass.

The courtyard operates simultaneously as an exterior room, a source of natural light and a transitional space. The wall no longer functions simply as an enclosure, but as an edge that frames selected elements of the landscape.

Its geometry also establishes a clear sequence through the house: from the street to a protected interior condition, from there to the courtyard, and eventually towards the open horizon.

 

From enclosure to the horizon

Beyond the courtyard, the building progressively loses the compact character presented towards the street.

The architecture becomes lighter and more open until the roof emerges as the principal element defining the inhabited space. Rather than relying on a continuous envelope, the house establishes shade and protection while maintaining extensive visual contact with the landscape.

The sequence is based on a small number of spatial operations: containment, movement, subtraction and opening.

Solid elements provide privacy where required, while voids introduce light, vegetation and long views. The relationship between mass and absence becomes more important than the formal autonomy of the individual rooms.

 

Material continuity with the site

The treatment of the ground reinforces the relationship with the surrounding landscape.

Its colour and texture recall the sand of the nearby beach, extending a similar material character beneath the roof. The intention is not to reproduce the natural setting literally, but to establish continuity through colour, texture and physical experience.

White surfaces introduce a contrasting element. Their colour relates to the flowers of the nine Cacalosúchil trees surrounding the residence, creating another connection between the constructed volume and the existing vegetation.

The material palette therefore remains deliberately restrained. Ground, white walls, concrete and vegetation provide the main visual and tactile references, allowing changes in light and shadow to remain clearly perceptible throughout the day.

 

Architecture defined by mass and void

Casa Malonic is organized through the gradual transformation of a protected volume into an increasingly open relationship with the site.

The curved wall directs the approach, the circular courtyard removes part of the built mass, and the roof establishes a broad zone of shade towards the landscape. Each element performs a specific spatial role without requiring additional formal complexity.

HW Studio uses this sequence to balance privacy and openness. The house remains closed where it meets the street, becomes porous around the courtyard and finally opens towards the horizon.

The landscape is therefore not treated as a background to the architecture. It becomes the principal condition around which the residence is organized.

In Puerto Vallarta, on Mexico’s Pacific coast, Casa Tao by HW Studio is conceived around shade as both a climatic necessity and a spatial condition. The 472 m² residence draws on the memories and interests of its inhabitants, translating ideas of shelter, quiet and contemplation into a sequence of enclosed courtyards, filtered views and protected interiors.

The house occupies a neighbourhood without distant views, but directly faces a tree-lined plaza offering shade and breeze. Rather than opening frontally towards it through extensive glazing, the architecture establishes an indirect relationship with its surroundings. Carefully positioned openings allow the presence of the plaza to be perceived while limiting exposure to the intense coastal sun.

Shade as a way of inhabiting

The design emerged in part from the inhabitants’ personal histories. Growing up in Puerto Vallarta, one of the owners understood shade as an essential refuge from the heat and humidity of the Pacific climate. A later family journey to Japan introduced another set of references: spatial restraint, emptiness, carefully filtered light and a sense of stillness.

These influences are translated into an architecture of indirect relationships. The house neither withdraws completely from the city nor exposes itself fully to it. Instead, views, breezes and daylight enter through controlled openings, courtyards and transitional spaces.

The result is an environment shaped less by outward display than by the gradual experience of light and shadow.

 

 

Private spaces below, social life above

The principal programme is divided vertically. Bedrooms, the garage and service areas occupy the base of the house, while a lighter, double-height volume containing the main social spaces is raised above them.

Elevating the communal areas separates daily social life from street level and opens it towards the crowns of the surrounding trees. Air circulates around the upper volume, while elevated patios form protected outdoor rooms overlooking the neighbouring greenery.

The arrangement allows the house to engage with the plaza without relying on a conventional panoramic façade. The relationship is experienced through fragments: the movement of branches, the arrival of the breeze and the changing quality of light.

Courtyards and interior retreat

The bedrooms are organized around a courtyard, where enclosure provides privacy while preserving access to air and sky. At the entrance, a curved wall gently redirects movement, while a tree marks the transition into the house.

This inward orientation creates a sequence of spaces focused on the sky, shade and vegetation. The courtyards are therefore more than sources of natural light and ventilation; they establish the slower rhythm around which domestic life is organized.

Throughout the house, privacy is achieved through depth and indirect views rather than complete isolation.

 

 

Concrete, whiteness and filtered light

The material palette reinforces the contrast between the intensity of the exterior climate and the subdued atmosphere within. White surfaces respond sharply to the coastal sun, while exposed concrete absorbs and softens light.

Its weight gives the interiors a sense of permanence, but the changing daylight prevents the material from appearing static. Light settles across walls and surfaces, revealing subtle differences between open courtyards, shaded thresholds and more protected rooms.

The architects relate this approach to Junichirō Tanizaki’s In Praise of Shadows, where darkness is understood as a means of giving depth to perception rather than simply as the absence of light. In Casa Tao, shade becomes similarly active: a climatic resource, a spatial filter and the element through which the house establishes its atmosphere.

Casa Tao ultimately proposes a form of domestic life organized around attention and pause. Through its elevated patios, inward-facing courtyards and carefully controlled openings, the house creates a protected interior world while remaining connected to the air, vegetation and climate of Puerto Vallarta.

A House Built Around Emptiness

In Morelia, Michoacán, Mexico, Kehai House by HW Studio is a small residence of 95 sq.m., designed by architect Rogelio Vallejo Bores as his own home. The project is described as “the architect’s house”: a house in which someone used to giving form to the dreams of others turns inward, asking how architecture can become coherent with a way of living.

The house was shaped by a limited budget, but also by a long personal path toward Zen, the Dharma and Japan. Its deepest idea is not the production of an object, but the creation of a void: a central emptiness capable of containing life, movement, silence and thought.

A Closed Box That Holds a Garden

From the outside, the house appears as a quiet, closed box in the urban landscape. Its almost hermetic presence does not reveal much of what takes place inside. Once the threshold is crossed, however, the apparent closure is understood differently: the box does not isolate, but protects.

At its center lies a stone garden. It is not touched directly, yet it defines the entire house. Like the stone gardens of Kyoto, its stones are not arranged to represent something, but to evoke a state of attention. On the bed of grey gravel, two wooden platforms float as places of pause: not simply floors, but surfaces for stopping, looking and being.

 

 

The Garden as Spatial Order

The garden is not decorative. It organizes the house. Around it, the domestic spaces are arranged like satellites orbiting stillness, each one maintaining a distinct role while remaining connected to the central void.

On one side, the kitchen and dining area unfold in a double-height space. Above them, a volume gathers the smoke from the fire, introducing both memory and practical resilience: the possibility that one day the city may not provide everything needed. On the other side, the living room becomes a space of contemplation, where large stones rest like islands in a quiet sea.

A House That Reconciles with Rain

There is no covered corridor between the living room and the dining area. To move from one to the other when it rains, one either gets wet or waits for the rain to pass. This decision gives the house its most radical everyday lesson: architecture here does not protect from the world, but reconciles the inhabitant with it.

The home does not attempt to neutralize weather, time or discomfort. Instead, it allows them to enter life gently, turning movement through the house into a conscious act.

 

 

Shōji, Light and Shadow

The shōji doors, made with rice paper, are not treated as an aesthetic reference alone. They operate as the real filter between interior and exterior. Light, passing through them, loses its hardness and becomes softer, slower and more atmospheric.

In this house, shadow is not simply the absence of light. It becomes light’s most delicate expression. Daylight does not enter abruptly; it settles, creating an interior defined by quiet transitions rather than visual excess.

Three Windows and an Interior Life

The program is austere. There are no unnecessary corridors and no grand gestures. The house is almost entirely without glass, opening only through three small windows toward what is considered truly worth seeing: a mountain, a neighboring pine and the tree planted at the center of the garden.

The bedroom is placed above, as a minimal and intimate space. A single circular window opens to the foliage of the central tree. It becomes an eye of the house, a point of contemplation rather than display.

 

 

Entering by Descending

The entrance does not rise; it descends. One enters by going down, as if bowing before something sacred. The staircase reaches the point where the stone offered structural stability, reducing unnecessary foundation costs, but the gesture is also spiritual.

To inhabit this house, one must leave a certain pride outside and enter with humility. Like passing through the torii of an invisible shrine, the act of entry becomes a quiet ritual.

Silence as Architecture

In Japanese thought, value is often found in the imperfect, the incomplete and the ephemeral. Kehai House follows this sensibility. It was not designed to impress, but to endure in silence.

Through limited means, careful spatial decisions and a central void that orders domestic life, the house becomes a meditation on how little architecture needs in order to become meaningful. It holds the light weight of an honest life.