The luxury is in the spaces, not the materials
On a narrow strip of land between a gin distillery and a supermarket in a New Zealand town, a house that most passersby never notice has quietly held its secrets for years — winning architecture's highest local honours while remaining invisible to the street. Now, as its artist owner and his family seek wider horizons, the hidden home has stepped briefly into the light, drawing over a hundred strangers through its door in a single afternoon, each one arriving to confirm what they had long suspected: that the most remarkable spaces are often the ones we almost walk past.
- A house that spent years hiding in plain sight between a distillery and a supermarket suddenly became the most talked-about property in town.
- Over a hundred people arrived at the first open home, many carrying a memory of reading about the 2017 House of the Year award and finally seizing their chance to see inside.
- The tension between the home's deliberately unremarkable exterior and its award-winning interior created an almost theatrical reveal for every visitor who crossed the threshold.
- The owners — an artist and a teacher who built something quietly extraordinary — are now trading 158 square metres of urban ingenuity for five thousand square metres of open land.
- A tender process has been set in motion, leaving the market to place a number on something that has always resisted easy definition.
More than a hundred people arrived on a single afternoon, drawn by curiosity and a half-remembered article about an award. The house on Alpha Street gives almost nothing away from the outside — wedged between a gin distillery and a supermarket, it is the kind of place you walk past without a second glance. Inside, it is something else entirely.
Grant Jack, an artist, and his wife Karen stumbled onto the odd-shaped 314-square-metre section almost by chance. A For Sale sign was enough. Architect Christopher Beer helped them see what the land could hold, and in 2017 the finished home won House of the Year. At just 158 square metres, it was never about size. Jack ran a coffee shop from the front room for a time, then a gallery, before the space became his studio. The real luxury, he always maintained, was in how rooms flowed into courtyards, how light moved, how the city pressed close but couldn't quite reach you.
The materials were chosen with the same resourcefulness: red bricks salvaged from a retirement village project, cedar breaking up stretches of wall, slate tiles and timber lending warmth throughout. Everything deliberate, nothing showy.
After years of urban life within a three-minute walk of everything, the family decided they wanted space of a different kind — a lifestyle block where the horizon was further away. When the property went to market, agent Sacha Webb watched the crowd arrive. Most left impressed. The registered valuation sits just over one million dollars, but the tender process will let the market have the final word on what a well-kept secret is truly worth.
More than a hundred people crowded through the front door on a single afternoon, drawn by curiosity and the whisper of something they'd read about years ago. The house sits on Alpha Street in a town where most people walk past without noticing it exists—wedged between a gin distillery and a supermarket, its exterior giving almost nothing away. But once inside, the space opens up in ways that surprise you.
Grant Jack, an artist, and his wife Karen, a teacher, found the property almost by accident. The section was an odd shape, 314 square meters of land that didn't look like much from the street. It had a For Sale sign. That was enough. When they brought the plans to architect Christopher Beer, he saw what they saw: potential for something genuinely different. In 2017, the house won Home of the Year.
The finished building is only 158 square meters—small by most measures—but Jack understood that the real luxury wasn't in the materials or the square footage. It was in how the rooms connected to courtyards, how light moved through the space, how you could be in the middle of town yet feel hidden away. For the first few years, he ran a coffee shop from the front and operated a gallery called Drawings.co.nz. Both are closed now. The front room became his studio instead.
The design choices were deliberate and resourceful. Red bricks, unwanted from a retirement village project in Tamahere, line both the exterior and interior walls and even the kitchen splashback. Cedar breaks up stretches of gib board. Timbers and slate tiles create a natural feel throughout. "The whole place is design-led, but it's not trying to be luxurious," Jack said. "The luxury is in the spaces."
Living here meant being steps away from everything—a gym, restaurants, the supermarket, all within a three-minute walk. But it also meant people passing constantly, though they couldn't see in. Jack acknowledged the divided reaction the house had always provoked. "People either like it or find it weird," he said. After years in the space, he and Karen and their teenage daughter decided they wanted something different: a five-thousand-square-meter lifestyle block with room to breathe.
When the property went to market, the response was immediate. Sacha Webb, the agent handling the sale, watched more than a hundred people arrive at the first open home. "It was chocka," she said. Many had read about the house when it won its award. They came to see what the fuss was about, and most left impressed. Webb noted the property could appeal to families, couples, or anyone wanting to run a business from home—the house had already proven it could do that. The registered valuation sits just over one million dollars, but the actual value would be determined through a tender process, letting the market decide what the space was worth.
Citas Notables
People either like it or find it weird— Grant Jack, owner
So many people knew about the house, had read about it when it was House of the Year, so it was really just coming to see what it was all about— Sacha Webb, real estate agent
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why do you think so many people showed up to see a house they'd never heard of before that day?
Because it won an award seven years ago and people remember it. In a small town, a house like this becomes a story people tell. When they finally get to see it, they want to know if it's real.
What makes it feel bigger than it actually is?
The courtyards. You step outside and there's light and air, then you step back in. It breaks up the rooms so you don't feel trapped. It's clever design, not expensive design.
Did living there change how Grant and Karen thought about what they wanted?
I think it showed them what they didn't want anymore. The house proved you could live small and well in town. Now they want to try the opposite—space, land, distance from neighbors.
Why would someone choose this over a conventional house?
If you value how a space makes you feel over how much of it you have. If you like being in town but hidden. If you're willing to let design do the work instead of square footage.
What happens next?
The tender process. People bid what they think it's worth. The market decides whether the award and the story and the clever design add up to more than the valuation.