As the clay-plaster walls of architect Josh Piddock’s north London apartment were drying, he decided to inspect the finish. Captivated by its tactility, he could not resist touching the “sandcastle”-like surface. The deep fingerprint he left behind doesn’t bother Piddock. It only adds, he says, to the perfectly imperfect appeal of his interior; the natural tones and textures a gentle nod to the golden London stock brick of the 1920s home.
Usually associated with traditional rural buildings, clay plaster — a mix of sand, natural fibres and earth — is a niche finish sold by just a handful of suppliers in the UK. But as architects and designers rediscover the ecological — and aesthetic — perks of homegrown earth-based materials, perceptions are shifting. It is now a high-end choice for apartments, town houses or swish new-builds.
When Cornwall-based Adam Weismann founded specialist supplier Clayworks in 2010, he encountered scepticism. “Ironically, it can feel too natural for some people. They were worried it might fall off the wall. Part of our job was to educate.” His mission paid off. More than a decade and a half later, “now architects come to us,” says Weismann, who has travelled to countries including Japan and Morocco to study indigenous earth techniques, and co-authored two books on the subject with his wife Katy Bryce.
Today, clay is not a cheap alternative to off-the-shelf surface applications like paint or gypsum plaster. (Paint ranges from £9 to £18 per square metre, compared with £23 for clay). But there are benefits beyond its good looks: it is permeable and porous, and its hygroscopic (moisture-absorbing) qualities help to regulate humidity (just avoid using it in bathrooms). It is recyclable, repairable and good for acoustics, softening reverberations. Clay also does not have the environmental impact of concrete (4-8 per cent of annual global CO₂ emissions), as the manufacturing process requires relatively little energy or water, and does not produce any waste.
Architect Alastair Bowden, of McLean Quinlan, lined the internal courtyard of a rural Devon new-build in clay with soft, light-reflecting tones. Bowden likes its lo-fi appeal: “Clay has so many inherent qualities which don’t rely on machinery,” he says. Meanwhile, Pensaer architects’ recent extension to a Victorian Dulwich home makes extensive use of peachy-pink clay, both internally and externally. In the Netherlands, ribbed clay arches frame the doors of an experimental thatch-clad country home by architects Liminal Office. For a south London house, architect Alexis Germanos, of 23 Architecture, created a clay-swathed, swirling staircase.
Clay can be matt, polished, waxed, carved with motifs or sprinkled with shards of china for a terrazzo effect. Combined with mica, it has a glinting finish — as illustrated by the monastic 100 Acre Wood, a loch-side house in Scotland by Denizen Works. Coloured with natural pigments, tones range from subdued ochres and burnt siennas to rich blues or plums. At Clayworks, the choice has expanded to 400 made-to-order hues.
Piddock uses his apartment to trial techniques before presenting them to clients of his architectural practice Studio Merlin. A clay sun motif has been applied to clotted-cream walls in the kitchen, as well as a Mondrian-like grid of burnt orange, parchment and dove-grey tones.
Most people enlist a skilled artisan to apply the finish. This is part of its appeal, says architect Simon Astridge. He watched specialist Guy Valentine’s “hands-on, embodied” technique with fascination. “You can see the maker’s marks; the push and pull as he manipulated the material,” says Astridge. “And the uneven surface makes the light bounce across the room beautifully.”
For Astridge, who suffers from asthma, clay has therapeutic properties. Like houseplants, it absorbs pollutants: “It’s like having a Dyson purifier embedded in your walls,” he says.
Most of us are familiar with circular fashion; the same needs to happen in the construction sector, says architect Ken De Cooman. His practice, Brussels-based BC Architects & Studies, collaborates with local developers and government bodies to upcycle soil excavated from building sites and infrastructure works, which in Belgium amounts to around 37mn tonnes annually, some 40 per cent of which is not polluted. De Cooman’s sister company, BC Materials, recycles some of that into plasters, earth bricks and paints. Its output is growing, from 50 tonnes of products in 2019 to 3,300 tonnes last year.
De Cooman, whose clients include Hermès, learnt how to use these materials in Burundi, east Africa, where he worked, pro bono, on a library for locals. His practice now offers training to a new generation of “curious” architects.
“Clay is an ancient medium, but it has so many possibilities,” says architect Jonathan Tuckey, who has collaborated with De Cooman on the renovation of a 19th-century tannery in Belgium. “The more people [who] use it, the better.”
After a year living in Zimbabwe, Tuckey became fascinated by its indigenous earth architecture. “The decoration was done annually, in patterns or intricate geometries. Each one expressed the [personality of its] owner,” he says. “I wasn’t just captivated by the energy and creativity, but by the way they made use of available materials — be it stones from the river or charred soil.”
Tuckey recently completed a house in Wiltshire using local earth, with clay walls in ochres and soft greens inside. In the turret-like staircase the light is filtered through niches over carved oak stairs. “The atmosphere is extraordinary, even the air feels soft. It’s immersive, as if you’re wrapped in clay,” he says. “There’s an elemental beauty; although it’s a new building it has an atmosphere of permanence . . . As if it’s always been there.”
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