91.0 is a minimalist residence located in Gulf Islands, Canada, designed by Omer Arbel, the Vancouver–based co-founder of Bocci. The house addresses a fundamental question in contemporary residential architecture: how to inhabit a landscape without dominating it. Rather than clearing a buildable plateau or imposing a singular form, Arbel works with the site’s existing topography, suspending the structure between two rocky outcroppings that frame a fern-filled ravine. This approach recalls the environmental responsiveness of West Coast Modernism, though where architects like Arthur Erickson often used glass and steel to dissolve boundaries between interior and exterior, Arbel employs mass and weight to root the building in its geological context.
The choice of sandblasted cedar blocks proves crucial to this effect. Cedar has long been central to Pacific Northwest building traditions, valued for its resistance to moisture and natural decay, but sandblasting transforms the wood’s surface character entirely. The process exposes the grain in high relief, creating a texture that reads as sedimentary rather than organic. Where typical cedar cladding maintains its botanical identity through smooth surfaces and visible growth rings, these blocks take on the stratified quality of weathered stone. The facade becomes an extension of the rocky ridges it bridges, suggesting the house emerged from the same geological processes that shaped the site.
The 82-foot corridor that organizes the interior follows a different material logic. Polished concrete underfoot and Douglas fir lining the walls create a textural gradient that moves from cool permanence to warm grain. This combination has precedent in mid-century institutional architecture, where similar pairings served to humanize utilitarian spaces, but here the fir strips function more architecturally. They segment the wall surface into vertical elements that create rhythm along the length of the corridor, preventing the long passage from reading as monotonous. The window seat carved into this sequence offers a moment of pause, framing views of the gully that runs beneath the building like a vertebral axis.
The organization into two wings addresses a practical challenge in vacation architecture: how to accommodate variable occupancy without wasting conditioned space. The main wing houses essential functions scaled to daily use by two people, while the secondary wing remains dormant until needed, its two bedrooms and bunk room capable of sleeping up to 16. This flexibility acknowledges that recreational properties often sit empty for extended periods, an inefficiency that makes little sense in an era of climate awareness.
