Architecture with heart

In pockets of Hale County, Ala., visitors are often surprised by what they see. Among the shacks with sagging porches that scar the landscape are a house that resembles a butterfly, a chapel with a glass roof made from car windows, and a home whose supporting pillars are constructed of stacked carpet remnants.

The structures seem so out-of-place, with dramatic lines and sloping roofs, that passersby might wonder if they were transported here from somewhere else.

In a way, they were.

These buildings - a few new ones are added each year - were constructed by the Rural Studio, an experimental education/outreach program of Auburn University that was co-founded by D.K. Ruth and the late architect Samuel Mockbee. Mr. Mockbee, who grew up in Mississippi, believed architecture should uplift people, sheltering the body while making the spirit soar. Beautiful homes are especially needed by the poor, he felt, and who better to do the building than students, who need hands-on building experience, not just "paper architecture."

The result, over the past 12 years, has been a changed landscape: bold, modern structures that delight locals and draw visitors from around the world.

Yet this fall, as three new houses go up, the Rural Studio will be framing its own future, as well. Three years after "Sambo" Mockbee's death, the studio is trying to answer two difficult questions: How does a program continue to soar without its famous, charismatic leader? And how long can a bold idea remain bold?

Andrew Freear, co-director of the studio, has given a good deal of thought to both queries. "The studio has always been a little bit [revolutionary]," he says, "but it's hard to keep it that way without having a big character like Sambo."

Mr. Freear, a British-born architect, moved to Alabama to work with Mockbee, who was known as much for his generosity and humility as his award-winning designs. The key to progress, Freear says, is following his colleague's example: be creative and work hard, focus on meeting people's needs, and above all, build houses that are "noble."

"Noble is really important," Freear says, "You have to make people feel good about where they are and who they are."

That's something many Hale County residents have never felt, he says. Some areas of the county have a poverty rate of 38 percent.

But for people who've received a Rural Studio home, free of charge, life takes on a whole new hue.

"I was glad to get my house," Alberta Bryant, whose house was completed in 1994, told Andrea Oppenheimer Dean, author of the book "Rural Studio." "The children was glad; even the chickens and the dogs was glad. I'm proud of my house."

The one-story home, built with stucco-covered 80-pound hay bales, features a large porch with a transparent roof that seems to float over the structure. The family spends much of its time in that light-filled space. But the four bedrooms, one for the Bryants and each of their three grandchildren, brightened life even more.

One of the children improved his grades dramatically after he had a quiet place to study, says Freear. He got into college, completed a degree, and now wants to be a lawyer.

Kendra Patrick, whose family moved into their new home this summer, is also delighted to have her own room, and to finally have indoor plumbing. Before, the 19-year-old and her 6-year-old brother had to walk to their grandparents' home nearby to bathe.

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