“I never thought I would be living out here,” says Je Ahn, flicking his long hair off his face. “Out here” means the Isle of Wight, where, as a keen sailor, he has been coming for many years. “I love that the house is on an island. The moment you cross the sea, you leave things behind.”
The South Korean-British architect is seated on a long concrete bench in a barn that he has recently converted, gazing out through a panoramic window over a valley of fields, trees and sheep. A couple of camper vans dot the horizon. “This is a working farm,” he says. “You get cows, sheep, sometimes even alpacas wandering into the garden.”
That garden, like the house itself, has been subtly but deftly designed. Colourful plants spill out from half-moon-shaped flower beds along a winding path. They were saved and replanted here after the 2024 RHS Chelsea Flower Show, where Ahn and garden designer Tom Massey won gold for their WaterAid Garden, filled with plants resilient to drought, heat and flooding. Massey’s naturalistic style, with its emphasis on diversity and adaptability, now softens the industrial feel of the barn’s corrugated fibre cement cladding.
In the garden, a path winds between half-moon-shaped flower beds
For this year’s Chelsea Flower Show, Ahn and Massey teamed up again, joining longtime collaborator Sebastian Cox to create an experimental pavilion made from mycelium. It received another gold medal.
Ahn founded Studio Weave nearly 20 years ago, beginning with experimental temporary buildings — and now leads big public commissions. Last year, the studio beat Assemble, Carmody Groarke and Hayatsu Architects to win the commission from the British Museum for its new visitor entrance, due to open next spring. The practice, made up of 12 people including Ahn, now works internationally with projects in the US, Italy, Ireland, Japan and Thailand.
Studio Weave specialises in reuse, and strong Japanese and Korean influences are evident in its attention to detail and lightness of touch. When Ahn bought South Barn, as it is named, in 2021, it had planning permission already in place and he saw it as a chance to create his manifesto house. “Retrofit,” he says, “is really about attitude. It’s about using local skills, reducing travel, choosing the right materials for the right places — like Tom says about plants: ‘right plant, right place’ — and reusing what you already have on site, as much as possible.”
Flowers press against the glass in the bedroom . . . 
. . . skylights throw natural light on to red grout and pink plaster in the bathroom
The barn, built in the 1970s, had seen better days. Asbestos meant much of the structure had to be stripped. But Ahn retained what he could; the original footprint, profile and some existing walls remain, as do the old timber beams, which had originally been bought — “yes, recycled!” he grins — from a market building in Newport, Wales.
The project took two and a half years, a period that was prolonged while Ahn waited for the right local contractor to be available. “He was so good with concrete,” Ahn says, it was worth the wait. “I got him to make the kitchen countertop too,” he adds. The result is a grounded, tactile and thoughtful home.
Ahn’s route into architecture was unconventional. He left South Korea at 13 for a scholarship place at a UK school, but bounced between the two countries before settling in the UK again for A-levels and university. A stint at Delft University of Technology, through the Erasmus study abroad scheme, became an extended stay. He co-founded Studio Weave as a student with then-partner Maria Smith (now Smith Mordak, who later left the practice). Their first project — a playful installation for the 2006 London Architecture Biennale — was a surprise hit, leading to further work. A chance meeting with Professor Robert Mull, then at London Metropolitan University, helped him stay on to complete his qualifications through research-by-practice.
A local contractor made the concrete countertop; the dining table is made from two plywood doors
Ahn now splits his time between his flat in Hackney and the Isle of Wight. “The plan is to spend more time down here. London becomes the second home.” Although it is less than a half-hour drive from the town of East Cowes, the barn feels remote, tucked deep into farmland and among just a few scattered buildings.
Isolation isn’t new for Ahn. He grew up in a rural village outside Busan, South Korea. “The nearest bus stop was a 25-minute walk,” he recalls. “I spent a lot of time just looking and listening — to rivers, mountains, the sea.” A similar connection to nature is palpable here.
He first discovered the barn through Joseph Kohlmaier, a friend and lecturer in the history of architecture at London Metropolitan University, who had renovated his own barn on the island, The Old Byre, with architect Gianni Botsford. While Kohlmaier’s house is sleek and minimal, Ahn’s version feels earthier, more lived in.
Muted dusty rose plaster walls unify the home . . . 
. . . which was made by retrofitting a 1950s barn
Yet beneath its rustic appearance, South Barn is subtly cutting edge. It’s so energy efficient that it costs Ahn very little to run it. The corrugated iron ceiling, for example, conceals nearly 40cm of insulation. The concrete slab floor, which extends outside and around the house like an engawa — a Japanese-style terrace — has underfloor heating. Ahn also flipped conventional building logic by putting insulation first on the compacted earth, then underfloor heating pipes in the structural slab itself. This tactic reduced layers of construction, and improves temperature regulation in the house, which is also equipped with an air-source heat pump.
Cracks in the original wall have been repaired with spiral stainless-steel rods embedded in resin. It’s a fix that is both functional and poetic: “A bit like kintsugi,” he notes, referring to the Japanese art of visible mending. The main space — open-plan kitchen, dining and living — has one fully glazed wall with high-performance Velfac windows. Bespoke 10mm-thick steel panels reinforce the seam between the window panels while preserving the view. The room, taking up almost half of the house’s footprint, feels expansive but still remains cosy.
In the kitchen, while chopping herbs with a Niwaki Japanese knife, Ahn draws a connection between his three passions: “Cooking is about generosity, bringing people together. Travelling allows for serendipity, being loose and making new friends. With sailing, you can’t be loose. Sailing is all about teamwork, putting your trust in others. Architecture is all three.”
Muted dusty rose plaster walls unify the home. Three spacious bedrooms are tucked behind the main space. In typical Ahn fashion — he loves to entertain — the guest bathroom is larger than the master en suite, complete with a bath tub. Skylights throw natural light on to red grout and pink plaster, giving both bathrooms a warm glow. All bedrooms overlook an unoccupied neighbouring barn; Massey’s flowers press up against the glass.
The industrial feel of the barn’s corrugated fibre cement cladding is softened by planting
There is a sense of things being thrown together casually. Take the long dining room table, which consists simply of two plywood doors placed lengthwise. “The legs are fancy, though,” says Ahn. “I drove all the way to Germany to get them.”
In one corner of the living room stands a wood-burning stove, which is rarely used. A Robin Day sofa anchors the space, accompanied by a child-sized Ercol rocking chair, Barker chairs by Sebastian Cox, a vintage Anglepoise lamp (brought back to life by Ahn), a pair of jazzy candleholders from Pueblo, Mexico, and pieces by ceramic artist Alexander Huber placed in some of the window alcoves. Pendant lamps above the kitchen island are by Assemble’s Granby Workshop. It’s an eclectic mix, but each object tells a story. “Architecture is just one ingredient among many,” says Ahn.
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“Although we don’t adhere to a particular style, all our projects feel like Studio Weave’s. There’s an ingredient you can taste that’s our style. Sometimes it’s like a topping. Sometimes it’s the background broth. Either way, it has to taste great.”
Perhaps he’s been building towards this idea of home for a long time. “I moved all the time growing up. I was always jealous of people who had that grounded sense of home. I want to create a sense of warmth. I want people to be hugged by architecture.”
With that, he is back in the kitchen to mix cocktails for his guests.
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