Artchitectural Design by Carey Smoot
Photography by Olivier Koning

Not far from the stunningly beautiful West Shore of Moloka‘i stands a mystery, which is also a mirage. At first glance, it’s just an old barn—or so it appears. But that’s the mirage. On closer inspection…

The old-fashioned barn turns out to be a surprisingly new structure.

The seemingly primitive building turns out to be a highly sophisticated example of environmentally savvy design.

And, this apparent example of 19th-century New England architecture turns out to have strong elements of classical Hawaiian style, and to be constructed of classically tropical materials.

The mystery remains: what is this unusual structure doing in such a remote area—and if it’s new, why does it stand virtually alone and uninhabited?

The key to this puzzle begins with Hawai‘i residents John and Liz Perell, who visited Moloka‘i in the late 1990s. They promptly fell in love with its natural marvels and decided to it was a perfect area for a second, or vacation home, which could be completed in a three phases as economic and social influences dictated. The Perells purchased a seven-acre parcel at Moloka‘i’s west end, a flat tongue of land located on a small, half-circle bay. Here, they dreamed of building a rustic ranch.

A mutual friend of the Perells invited Kaneohe-based designer Carey Smoot to visit the property and meet the owners. During this first visit, the Perells quickly agreed with Smoots vision and philosphy, and a partnership was born. Smoot came aboard as the designer of the envisioned estate.

The owners could hardly have made a better choice. Famed as the creator of Hawaiian homes for film directors, movie stars, and rock icons, Carey Smoot is an iconoclastic innovator who combines passion, humor, and fierce integrity in his work. Through his offices at SourceTropical, Smoot has led a 20-year campaign to bring more authentic Hawaiian style to Island architecture, and to bring greater incorporation of authentic tropical methods and materials into Hawai‘i’s new construction.

Blueprints by Smoot called for initial erection of a barn, with a woodshop and tractor shed downstairs, and an apartment upstairs that would eventually house a caretaker. This second-story residence would also serve as the Perells’ temporary quarters while additional structures are built. Plans include a main residence consisting of hexagonal shapes, a front gate, and a manmade pond that will attract local deer. In the center of the pond, Smoot plans to create a charming teahouse with large shoji circular windows that will reflect in the water like a lantern.

The Friendly Island is home to many ethnic Hawaiians who still carry the original spirit of Aloha in their hearts and still practice it in their ways. Smoot himself recalls first visiting Moloka‘i in the 1960s, and says he never received a more loving, heartfelt welcome. And yet a variety of social, economic, and political factors simply meant that it was difficult for outsiders to fit in. As a result, many off-islanders who bought property on Moloka‘i later decided it would be better to sell it and move on.

Moloka‘i’s economic failure was due in large part to the Kaluakoi sell out. The master planned development of Kaluakoi resort began in 1975. A luxury hotel, two resort condominiums, a championship golf course, tennis courts, a residential project and two ranch lot projects were completed. But, in the next 20 years, development was expected to reach substantial maturity, including two more hotels, several additional condominium projects and a shopping village. Unfortunately none of this came to be.

Still, this Friendly Island tale has a happy ending. Years before the barn’s construction, the Perells’ son had befriended a fellow college student—who happened to be from Moloka‘i. For several years, the son and his Moloka‘i friends happily surfed together; for them the Barn of Moloka‘i became a kind of upscale, designer "surf shack" and social headquarters. Today, the Barn of Moloka‘i is also available as a rental unit and is becoming a popular draw.

It’s an outcome that makes designer Smoot chuckle. He seems to appreciate it as another of the ironies of Moloka‘i, an island whose long and sometimes-troubled history is full of unexpected twists and turns.

Architecturally, the Barn of Moloka‘i stands as a prime example of what’s possible with design that is environmentally friendly and culturally respectful. Smoot’s tour of the property begins with its site plan: "The Perells’ barn is not parallel to any property lines," he points out. "The structure inhabits the site in relation to the trade winds and the arc of the sun. The barn fits on the site, just like a foot fits in a shoe."

The style of this "tropical barn" was inspired by New England structures of the late 1800s, Smoot says. But he agrees, again with a chuckle, that its exaggerated lines have a playful feeling, perhaps almost even a slight Disney-like interpretation. This would not be surprising, Smoot admits, since he took his design degree at California Institute of the Arts, the university founded by Walt and Roy Disney. (Many years ago Smoot even did some work for the Disney organization).

The rest of the Barn of Moloka‘i’s stylistic elements are pure Hawai‘i, Smoot explains: "The innards may be just like a mainland modern structure, but the exterior speaks of the regional locale. I used indigenous materials from Hawai‘i, Bali, and Borneo—red eucalyptus, Douglas fir, ironwood, coconut wood, and lava stone—to wrap the building in a tropical sarong."

The Barn of Moloka‘i echoes one final mystery that may never be solved: what, precisely, is Hawaiian style? Smoot poses this question rhetorically, but he’s only willing to hint at a partial answer.

"The question lends itself to endless debate," he muses, "because the original, indigenous Hawaiian style has acquired overlays from many other cultures during the centuries. Tropical architecture can include design elements from Japan, Polynesia, Southeast Asia, China, the Philippines, Micronesia, Mexico, and Europe. We try to use the ancient cultural styles and technologies in a way that is retrofitted to 2005 safety and construction requirements."

The moral of the story? On this point, Carey Smoot is quite firm. "The old Hawaiians knew what they were doing," he declares. "They knew things that today’s Western architects have yet to understand. In all humility, we can—and we should—learn a lot from them."