‘Everything is so harmonious, and all of these elements are speaking to each other in the most cohesive and elegant language. Elegant not as in formal, but elegant in terms of its sincerity and authenticity.’ Madeline Stuart, a renowned Los Angeles-based designer, could not have described Bhutanese architecture more vividly. Designed by Dorji Yangki, one of few published female architects to emerge from the country, and nestled in the Rockies rather than the Eastern Himalayas, the home that Stuart has helped create brings that vernacular, and its distinctive ‘flying roofs’, to the West.
The Buddhist kingdom is guided by a philosophy of Gross National Happiness, whose central pillars include the preservation of culture, from language to dress and paintings to architecture. The country’s built heritage is considered one of its most sacred treasures. The government implements specific codes and mandatory guidelines for all new construction to protect the ‘traditional architecture of Bhutan in its vernacular state – the hierarchy of its elements, the proportion, and forms of its elements to identify the building’s values, function and its significance’.
Today, those rules do allow for a certain amount of flexibility and creativity, as architects trained abroad (there are few specialist schools in the country) bring their own influence to traditional styles. Distinctive elements of Bhutanese vernacular housing include gently tapered walls, flying roofs, rabsels (timber-frame bays with multiple windows and panels), wooden lintels and cornices, and iconographic and spiritual paintings. These architectural traditions have evolved over many centuries, adapting to climatic conditions, available materials, practical skills, technology and, most importantly, our culture and beliefs.
While largely assembled from Bhutan and built according to those aforementioned principles, the house in Telluride, Colorado, is also fit for life in the Rocky Mountains. A local stone, popularly known as Telluride gold, was used to match the masonry found in modern Bhutanese homes. Yes, there is a flying roof here, but absent is the space between it and the attic normally used to store and dry vegetables or fodder for animals. Within the tapered walls – a particular feature of dzong forts – intricate carvings using skilful interlocking joints were crafted by carpenters, artisans and painters from the South Asian country. Historically, indigenous buildings were constructed without any drawings or, indeed, nails.
The zowpön, or master carpenter, would have it all planned ‘out in his head’, explains Dorji Yangki. The project’s lead builder, Kencho Tshering, acquired the timber – a specific type of magnolia wood – from a village in southern Bhutan. He then had a team of artisans from the east make and paint the carvings over a period of two years. These ‘three-dimensional jigsaw pieces’, as Madeline Stuart puts it, were then shipped to America. Upon their arrival, the carpenters and builders of Telluride began assembling the interlocking carvings – without any written instructions, but by means of numerous video calls with Kencho, who was prevented from travelling by the pandemic.
The homeowners, a spiritual Buddhist student and an artist, recall the day the pieces were loaded into a container and, in typical Bhutanese fashion, everyone celebrated with spicy local cuisine, drinks, songs and dancing. And, of course, dispatch day was determined only after consultation with a local astrologer to ensure successful transit and building. These festivities were yet another example of a culture so integral to the success of the mission. The story of how this house came together is much like the story of Thuenpa Puenzhi, a common folk tale in Bhutan. This fable tells the story of four animals that live in harmony and preserve a fruit tree that benefits all and has key teachings of Mahāyāna Buddhism enshrined within it. From the moment the owner travelled to Bhutan, in 2014, until the house’s completion in 2020, everything proceeded smoothly. If it were up to me, I would call this house Thuenpa Phodrang – the Palace of Harmony.
It is perhaps only fitting that it has a three-metre painting of Thuenpa Puenzhi in its entrance hall, greeting visitors and signalling harmony. Although the owners are at pains to explain that the architecture is secular (the carvings, for instance, represent folk rather than spiritual or religious figures, which only appear in temples), its form and adornment pronounce the teachings of Dharma throughout. Madeline Stuart describes the house as ‘an architectural and spiritual journey’ that can be seen ‘in every corner, colour and element of its making, decoration and design’. She added details throughout, such as colourful rugs, tapestries and traditional textiles, although she had very little to guide her – there isn’t much by way of documentation of Bhutanese furniture, most of which is confined to manors and palaces and therefore unavailable to the layperson. ‘What you don’t glean from the images is how spiritual and calm this space feels. And how livable and quiet it is,’ she says.
The house faces north – an auspicious direction associated with Kubera, the god of wealth, said to bring prosperity and abundance – and enjoys spectacular views over the mountains. You experience the calmness of the landscape, the setting sun and a sense of alignment between building and environment. As one of the owners says: ‘Even though the house has all the modern engineering, the slight ruggedness of the materials makes it feel closer to the earth. Having those rough edges and, eventually, cracks in the carvings and painting will heighten this impression in the future.’ This remarkable building captures the values and philosophies that inform Bhutanese architecture and design. Not only does it help support the preservation of a sacred art, it also introduces a distinct form of vernacular beyond Bhutan. I sincerely hope Gross National Happiness will prevail through many such homes everywhere in future.
A version of this article originally featured in the December 2023 issue of The World of Interiors. Learn about our subscription offers
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