Sisters Homes — Twin-sis­terly empathy for style

Now, two Croatian sisters purchase old houses in two sleepy island vil­lages, renovate and fit them out. They act on gut instinct, lis­tening deep into the rooms – as if to the vibra­tions of an aes­thetic tuning fork. The result are true holiday oases, quiet coun­ter­parts to urban life­style. Its con­tents have been gently reinter­preted and placed in the context of con­tem­plative island life. The houses live out their har­mo­nious exis­tence some­where in the void between past and present. The things of the past are carefully che­rished, but it is a con­tem­porary outlook that sets the tone.

In the middle of the wide blue Adriatic, on the outer edges of Kvarner Bay, between Pula, Rijeka and Zadar, lies the island of Lošinj. Here, nestling pic­tures­quely between the crystal-clear waters of three won­derful bays, slumbers the smallest town on the island – Sveti Jakov. A church tower, olive groves and the sea. In the cosy gardens of the sparsely occupied houses, sur­rounded by their high dry stone walls, fig, almond and citrus trees bask in the sun as they sway in the light breeze. Only when the winds come, the Bora and the Sirocco, ever­y­thing changes, but we will talk about that later.

Sepa­rated only by a narrow strait, Lošinj nestles against Cres, the largest island in the Adriatic. Nature is full of con­trasts here. Lonely pebble beaches, craggy cliffs and an inhos­pi­table, archaic land­scape that is nevert­heless home to an impres­sively diverse flora and fauna. The tiny village of Vidovići offers a truly breath-taking view over the archi­pelago from its ele­vated position above the sea. Lis­tening to elderly inhabitants‘stories on the old threshing floor and observing village life, you notice that time plays con­juring tricks here for­gotten else­where: it extends and elapses imper­cep­tibly – to give remi­nis­cence, the present moment and the muse the full attention they deserve.

Since World War II, Sveti Jakov and Vidovići have fallen silent. Many Croa­tians have emi­grated, but a little polyglot com­munity of resi­dents from various countries has settled here. The sheep are still there, the gnarled old olive trees – and the his­tories of the crooked alleyways and old stone-built houses that have already seen so much: a couple of new­lyweds building their home out of an old stable, a house that became a chapel as there was no church in the village. Some people, born here, have moved away to seek their fortune in America or Italy. Other people, to be precise sisters, to be precise twin sisters – living all around the globe and sepa­rated geo­gra­phi­cally for many years – have put down roots on this little Croatian island, amidst the sheep and the gnarled olive trees, have dis­co­vered remem­brance and rea­lised their shared dream of creating a house tog­ether for the whole family.

It all started with the big old stone house No. 59 in Sveti Jakov. In the year 2000 sisters Nataša Mar­celja and Ingrid Stan­kovic purchased the 100-year-old, derelict building and carefully reno­vated it until the ori­ginal fea­tures of the structure were once more brought to light. They used almost exclu­sively mate­rials from its island, com­bined with a fine sense for balanced design and a good dose of courage with the use of modern mate­rials: glass, steel and fair-faced con­crete. The result is a spec­ta­cular sym­biosis of con­trasts in terms of both, archi­tecture and content: old and new, inside and outside, rural and urban, strictly linear and poe­ti­cally deco­rative. All in mea­sured doses and fitting har­mo­niously tog­ether thanks to twin-sis­terly style empathy.

Then they dis­co­vered the mountain village of Vidovići with its intricate archi­tecture. House No. 9 is around two hundred years old. It is one of the oldest buil­dings in the centre of the village. From the terrace you can see the sea. House No. 5 con­sists of a tra­di­tional three-storey stone-built house with two small adjoining buil­dings, and stands in a cosy garden which feels like a gigantic open-air living room. The sensual aspect of this place beguiles visitors from the moment they step into it. The pre­sence of the deep blue tones of sky and sea is all-per­vasive and omni­present. The dazzling sun­light is almost unbe­arable at times; you retreat into the house to be able to see again. And then it happens, all of a sudden, in the stillness: “You are lin­gering in the moment, enjoying every facet of it, kissed by the muse, and an inner peace, hitherto unknown, sets in. Your needs are reduced to the essential. You breathe con­sciously and somehow become more humble, just by doing so“.

Extract from the interview with Ingrid and Nataša:

Twin sisters purchase old houses, renovate them and fit them out. Both have a fine sense of design. Do they differ in their approaches to a project?

“Yes, our con­cepts and approaches to a problem often differ. We are iden­tical and the­r­efore incom­pa­tible, if you see what I mean (laughs). But we spend a great deal of time talking about these dif­fe­rences (usually on the tele­phone between Croatia and Austria, to the great delight of the tele­phone com­panies). Gene­rally what ulti­m­ately emerges is a unanimous solution reached through highly detailed dis­cussion. And it is of course good to have an alter ego who isn’t a mere echo of your own thoughts but pro­cesses them and can express open and clear cri­ti­cisms whenever needed.”

A good friend of yours, Ned­jelko Lufcic, encap­su­lated your achie­ve­ments won­derfully in words: “With their savoir faire, the sisters, who talk on the phone 16 times a day when the sirocco blows and nine times a day when the bora blows (winds do affect the mood!), have brought their Bou­tique Homes almost to per­fection.” Bora and Sirocco. The cold polar wind and the hot desert wind. Do these two winds sym­bolise dif­ferent aspects of your creative process?

“Oh Yes! Do you know that in medieval Dubrovnik the punishment for offenders was much less severe if the offence was com­mitted during the sirocco period? They knew things that we have for­gotten in our modern world… What Ned­jelko means to say (and does say so char­mingly) is that this is a labo­rious process and that, no matter how much we love what we do, dif­fi­culties do often present them­selves. It is nice to dream and scheme, but things get tough when the con­tractors come in and the wre­cking ball starts rolling. Each of our pro­jects involved hundreds of dif­ficult tech­nical and admi­nis­trative pro­blems.
At the same time, it is a labour of love. We are running this project not to make a living, but because we love it. And all our houses were refur­bished not with a view to putting them on the market, but with the vision of us and our families spending our time there. The idea of renting the houses came only much later, as we rea­lised there might be people who share our fee­lings for the place, and who might wish to stay there for a while.”

The texts on your home page talk about the past times of the houses and the families that lived in them a long time ago. Your houses have a new life now, but their story is pre­served in every room. This is very special. Does the former exis­tence of the houses influence you during the reno­vation and fur­nishing process?

“It does indeed. We see it as a source of inspi­ration. Despite unhappy cir­cum­s­tances (world wars, poverty, changing rulers), past gene­ra­tions were clever, and had an impec­cable sense of design. There is much to learn from them. And yet, the idea is not to copy and paste, but to move forward. So we take the past as our inspi­ration, and combine it with the modern. We like the results.

We have noticed that our project also influences other people’s beha­viour both in Vidovići and Sveti Jakov. When we first came to Vidovi?i, the village was quite dormant. It looked almost deserted (except for a local tavern). After we had started reno­vating, quite a few neigh­bours (including the natives curr­ently living else­where) sud­denly felt the need to fix their col­lapsing roofs, tidy up their gardens, even refurbish old houses that had stood untouched for decades. Some­thing similar is going on in Sveti Jakov. It is inte­resting and quite rewarding to watch this process.

It is a separate aim of ours to bring these little vil­lages back to life. Not so long ago (between the world wars), both Sveti Jakov and Vidovići were well popu­lated places, full of life (Sveti Jakov even had a school), with hard-working inha­bi­tants making their living mostly by farming. Now, they are almost unpo­pu­lated, except in the summer season. This is sad. We think this can and should change. De-urba­ni­sation is a global phe­no­menon, and re-popu­lating existing deserted sett­le­ments is a logical way to go.”

Jakov no. 59 in your words?

“An elegant homage to life as it used to be a hundred years ago. The cradle of the Homes Sisters’ project. This is where we “learnt the ropes”.”

Vidovići 5 and 9; is Vidovići 11 the next project?

“Vidovići 11 has been roughly reno­vated and then placed on hold for a while. We need some rest, and need to recharge our bat­teries. In the meantime, we have intro­duced our “Small Spaces” concept, which we are very enthu­si­astic about. “Small Spaces” offers accom­mo­dation to singles or couples with joint use of the kitchen, the open terrace and some other faci­lities. We also own a couple of old stone barns. We would like to repurpose them, pro­bably using them for some­thing con­nected with art. We are planning to organise various cul­tural events in Vidovi?i, the village can provide a fan­tastic setting for all this. We hope this will help breathe some new life into this ancient village. And we hope people will come and enjoy them­selves.”

Text: Britta Krämer, June 2017

Credits © Branko Metzger © Katja Kre­menic © Peter Kürschner © Petra Abra­mović © www.sisters-homes.com

The pre­sented houses