Description:

Grounded within the fertile, weathered landscapes of Hāwea, Central Otago, the Agricultural Centre emerges in
response to a region in transition. Once shaped by its agricultural backbone, Hāwea is increasingly defined by
lifestyle developments—vineyards, holiday homes, and seasonal residents—creating a growing disconnect between
people and land. This project challenges that drift. It seeks to re-anchor agriculture as a shared cultural practice, not a
distant backdrop, through an architecture that embraces climate, labour, and the rhythms of its environment.
More than a building, the Agricultural Centre is a living vessel, a spatial and ecological system designed to reconnect
people to the cycles that sustain them. It invites both locals and visitors to participate directly in food production,
reframing agriculture not as a romanticised retreat but as an honest, cyclical process of cultivation, harvest, and
stewardship. The centre works with, not against, the natural forces of its site—sun, wind, drought, and seasonality are
not mitigated but integrated into every aspect of its form and function.
At the core of the project is a circular educational model housed within the Teaching Facilities, five interconnected
programmes that mirror the stages of the agricultural cycle. It begins in the propagation centre, where seeds are
nurtured. Learners move through the crop field for hands-on experience, then into produce storage, a cooking and
cafe area for sharing and celebration, and finally, a multipurpose space for community gatherings, workshops, and
knowledge exchange. This spatial narrative forms a loop of learning, making the growing process visible, embodied,
and participatory.
Surrounding this heart is a mosaic of specialised spaces: three glasshouse units tuned to distinct climates, a farm
shed for tools and labour, rotational composting bins that close the nutrient loop, and operational areas that enable
daily function. Circulation moves through rather than around the site, intentionally exposing users to the elements. In
doing so, the architecture reinforces a central belief: that agriculture is something to be lived, not merely observed.
The centre’s design is deliberately stripped back—precise, exposed, and grounded in purpose. A reflective Aramax
roof harvests rainwater into a series of visible tanks, storing up to ten weeks’ supply in anticipation of drought
conditions projected for the region. Solar panels power daily activity. Seasonal shifts are not softened but embraced:
in summer, the centre pulses with agricultural intensity; in winter, it slows for reflection and repair. These patterns become part of a built calendar—a way of telling time through weather, work, and growth.
In essence, the Agricultural Centre is an anchor for reconnection. It restores the link between land, food, and community, not through nostalgia, but through grounded, generative experience. It nurtures a deep sense of place, offering both orientation and identity to those who walk its paths. Visitors come to know not just where they are, but
who they are in relation to this special environment. In a region at risk of losing its rural heritage, the centre becomes a living system of resilience—architecture in rhythm with land, climate, and community.