Retreat boxes create the right mood for reflection

A striking retreat centre in Co Tipperary has chosen contemporary design to create the right environment for contemplation, writes Emma Cullinan

The philosopher Antonio Rosmini believed that, through deep thought, you could become closer to God: he saw philosophy as an aid to theology and promoted the freedom to philosophise.

So he would no doubt approve of the retreat centre near Clonmel, Co Tipperary, run by the Rosminian Order, which the Italian Rosmini founded in 1828.

While Glencomeragh House, near Clonmel, has been running retreats in the main house since 1990, those who wish for more private reflection can now climb the hill above the house and withdraw into one of three "poustinia": hermitages to you and me, although we're into semantics here and the word "poustinia" sums up the Rosminian ethos better. It comes from the Russian word for "desert" and denotes a place away from the clatter of everyday life where you can quietly reflect and find God within yourself.

Architects Bates Maher has really entered into the spirit of retreating by creating four spiritual boxes where ethereal notions are reflected in the actual structures.

First, there's the distinction between the main house and the poustinia; Glencomeragh House is a traditional period country home set in a garden dotted with ponds and familiar planting. Further along new landscaping has been carried out by Ralph Wickham and includes an exact copy of the maze in Chartres Cathedral in France, on which you walk and pray.

Beside this is a rill (an offshoot of a passing river), and beyond is the wild meadow, at the top of which three poustinia cantilever out over the hill.

Below the main house there's a wheelchair accessible poustinia, cantilevering over a river in the style of architect Frank Lloyd Wright's Falling Water house.

This departure from the ground, in the part of the poustinia where the bed (which converts to a day bed) is housed, represents what the mind should be doing. Where you enter the poustinia, the structure is well embedded into the long grass and wildflowers, and as you progress through the building you follow your rising spirit into the air. At the takeoff point there is a huge glass window with views across a valley.

To ensure good views the builder, Kieran Doran, made templates of the poustinia on a one-to-one scale and manoeuvred them around on the site, between the mature trees.

Shutters for the main window to the front are clad in mirror allowing for actual reflection along with the spiritual version. When the shutter is open it allows those in the bathroom opposite to see a reflection of the meadow and, when it's closed, outsiders get to see themselves, rather than those in the house.

This is all part of the structure's ability to sit softly in the landscape while cocooning those within. Those inside are still very aware of the surrounding nature, but those outside only have fairly inaccessible windows to look in through.

Yet, should those inside want to embrace the external world, they just have to swing open the huge front door and sit out on the large sandblasted concrete terrace that marks the threshold between interior and exterior.

Outside, the poustinia are raw and natural - clad completely in alternating strips of smooth sawn larch and rough sawn Douglas fir - while inside they are serene and smooth, with white boards spanning the floor and climbing the walls.

"We spent a lot of time on the cladding," says Tom Maher, who established Bates Maher Architects with Kevin Bates three years ago, almost 10 years after they left UCD. In the intervening period they worked for Tom de Paor and Scott Tallon Walker respectively.

The external finishes aren't fine and flush - the larch strips have been allowed to butt against each other in whichever warped way they happen to - yet this is a labour of love. "We wanted to make it rough, although there is careful detail in it," says Tom. "We made sure that there were as few fixings (nails) as possible and they are in stainless steel so they won't rust."

The roof is in the same material as the elevation because, being on a slope, the whole of the roof is visible. The plastic downpipe to the rear has also been clad in a timber box that has the delightful rawness of those "projects" we all used to produce in woodwork classes.

This beautiful, but earthy use of timber on a hillside meadow conjures images of architect Peter Zumthor's Saint Benedict Chapel (1989) in Switzerland.

"Yes," agrees Tom, "it's Zumthor in aspiration rather than detail and there's also a bit of Aalto floating around."

That's apparent in the bespoke furniture within: the simple wooden low tables/stools, and the kitchen worktop that drops at the end of the counter and becomes a seat. This is in the same dark-stained beech that lines the bathrooms (the one in the wheelchair accessible poustinia is tiled) that speak of smart spas. They have an ingenious timber grid floor to the showers which can be removed to reveal a sunken bath, with underwater jets. You can also pull part of the timber wall around this bathing area to create a bath/shower screen.

The ceiling above the bath was meant to be open to the elements, which would have been wonderful, but there were worries about noise travelling . . . and so they've been roofed in clear glass.

Another special space is the enclosed triangular courtyard lined with frameless glass and a floor comprising limestone from the site. While you can't access the space from the inside of the building, it does give quiet, private and warm access to the outside world, but you can squeeze through a gap in the building's exterior and stand in the triangular cocoon listening to the trees rustling and watching the sky.

The rough exterior and cool, but stimulating interior perhaps reflects the fact that people who are feeling raggedy can go to a serene place within.

The architects say they were also inspired by artist Patrick Scott and the way he uses gold leaf to achieve rough and smooth finishes. Yet again good buildings have been enabled by a good client. In this case it was Father Pierce: he asked the young practise to make a presentation and then went with them. Both architects say that Father Pierce was a brilliant client: "The more we showed him, as the project progressed, the more excited he got," says Kevin.

As a young practice, they know they were lucky to get this job, and the hard work reflects that. "We had great fun - as a project it's a dream," says Tom.