Vineyard House
By NO Architects
A sanctuary that safeguards the spirit of the place.
Founded in Valencia by Pedro Terrades and Rafael Martínez, NŌ architects is the culmination of a shared vision—an architecture shaped as much by thought as by emotion. Their studio functions as a creative workshop of architecture and landscape, where every project is approached with a reflective, honest, and poetic sensibility.
Their practice is deeply inspired by the Japanese concept of NŌ, a form of dramatic expression that transcends disciplines in search of essential beauty and narrative clarity. This philosophy informs their architectural approach: to create spaces that are not merely inhabited, but experienced; places that unfold like stories—rich with context, intention, and silence. This vision finds one of its most eloquent expressions in The House in the Vineyard, a project where architecture and nature engage in an intimate dialogue.
Surrounded by serene vines that sway with the breeze, the house breathes with an ancestral calm. In this secluded corner of the world, where time seems to dissolve among the furrows of fertile earth, dwelling and landscape meet in a quiet embrace, weaving warmth into every shadow, every sunbeam filtered through the walls.
In this secluded corner of the world, where time seems to dissolve among the furrows of fertile earth, dwelling and landscape meet in a quiet embrace, weaving warmth into every shadow, every sunbeam filtered through the walls.
It is a refuge that does not impose its presence but whispers it—an echo of the land that gave it birth. Stone, wood, and lime come together in a material language that tells silent stories, resonating in each texture and every step. A nearly ceremonial path invites one to inhabit the space with all senses awakened, to root oneself as deeply as the vines in the soil.
Beneath the surface, nestled in the heart of the vineyard, a pre-existing cave preserves the memory of other times. In its serene darkness, the whisper of the past emerges between centenary barrels, heavy
with the dreams and warmth of golden harvests. Time slows here; history is not recounted but breathed, infusing the air with the earthy scent of wine and wood.
The house is conceived as a chest—a sanctuary that safeguards the spirit of the place. Its architecture plays with light and shadow, opening and closing toward the landscape through large mobile panels. These veils, both delicate and intentional, reveal and conceal the silent poetry of the surroundings. Inside, the outside seeps gently in: the murmur of wind through leaves, the sweet aroma of damp earth.
There are no fixed boundaries—only fluid transitions between shelter and immensity, between presence and passage. Because here, to inhabit is not simply to occupy space; it is to merge with it—to become part of its eternal heartbeat.
