Drawing from a diagram

Patience, experimentation and adventure await at George Seemon’s reclusive farmhouse in Tamil Nadu

07 Apr 2025

How can it possibly rain in January? I asked, hoping the downpour would not follow me as we drove from the familiar city of Bengaluru to the unknown. Turns out, clouds have a mind of their own. On a farm right at the state border, I reached a home off the beaten path in Tamil Nadu’s Bagalur. Its walls are as stoic as they are human. “The house is exactly like the initial sketch,” says George Seemon, the CEO and design director of Stapati Architects, “Two boxes fitting into each other. Like a matchbox.”
The decision to build the 2,690 sq ft farmhouse where it stands today for him and his family was almost instinctual for George — it was the only spot without trees, the one spot that offered itself up, a blank canvas. Everywhere else, mango trees — a dozen or perhaps more, stand quiet, biding their time with early blooms. Then came the sketch. Simple, really, just a collection of distilled lines — something to get started, but the longer you looked at the land, the more it told you.

The initial idea was to source rocks from around the farm. “But when we came here and excavated, we found the soil was good enough to build the entire house. So, we went back to the drawing board to change the materials that went into construction,” he avers. Two lines found form in enormous rammed earth walls that defined the envelope while the rocks made their way into the smaller volume that pronounces as the mezzanine. “I am not the kind to complicate a structure with cuts, curves and bends,” he notes. What stands between the lush greenery is an exercise in essentialism, pure geometry and experimentation.

“The house is exactly like the initial sketch. Two boxes fitting into each other. Like a matchbox.” — George Seemon, CEO and design director, Stapati Architects

A swing is suspended from the jack arch roof anchored by antiques and a rug by Karpet Kingdom; The fan is from Havells and the photographs on the right wall are by Staj Soften; Photography by Ishita Sitwala; Photography by Ishita Sitwala

“My favourite space is the living room. When our friends come over, we all gather here. I can keep an eye on our son who usually plays outside,” says Alicia Souza, George’s wife. An illustrator by profession, she likes to sketch in the dining area with a vantage point of the space. Arranged carefully throughout the residence is a collection of antiques that George has collected over the years alongside furniture he designed for his studio Smaram.

An element of authenticity and coarseness runs throughout, from eccentricities in the craft of making to the vagaries and peculiarities of materials. When it rains, the home morphs. The cement walls turn a shade darker. But you let it breathe. Find a way around it. Come summer, the dwelling changes again in character. Architecture is not about perfection. You let the house live its life, and you live with it. It’s all part of the process. “You see a lot of crudeness here. The angles, for instance, are not too well finished, few of the furniture pieces have unpolished idiosyncrasies but I am fine with it. I wanted to try as much as possible to build everything as locally as possible. This was a learning experience for me,” George explains.

Housing furniture that is either designed or collected by George over the years is the living room that extends into the dining space; The Asthiti coffee table in the foreground is from Smaram, Stapati Architects; Photography by Ishita Sitwala

The earth and the stone give way to the dampness of the interior walls creating patterns of randomness while a wooden box marks the entrance to the bedroom, “It’s all about simplicity — just a few grooves. Six to be exact. You don’t see the frame at first. It’s hidden, tucked right into the door. It’s a feat of engineering, the way the door comes out and becomes the frame itself.”

Running across the volume is a striking jack arch roof which skillfully conceals the electrical conduits, “I tried everything I learnt about in architecture school,” he laughs. Upstairs, on the mezzanine floor are two windows with two different vistas. One created during the process of construction, previously unplanned, a puncture through the structure to oversee the entrance. The other akin to a picture frame looking into the farm next door, a view that changes colour through the seasons. “The house taught me patience,” reflects George, “It taught me how to experiment, how to be true to myself.” Around us the unexpected outcomes glimmer, like rain in January.