Architecture & Design

Architecture & Design | 25 STONE BY STONE: THE MAKING OF MULBERRIES A r c h i t e c t A a r o n A b e l a r e i n t e r p r e t s v e r n a c u l a r M a l t e s e a r c h i t e c t u r e i n M u l b e r r i e s , a r u r a l r e t r e a t i n Ż a b b a r d e f i n e d b y p a s s i v e d e s i g n , l o c a l m a t e r i a l s , a n d c r a f t s m a n s h i p , b u i l t c a r e f u l l y , c o n s i s t e n t l y , a n d e n t i r e l y s t o n e b y s t o n e . O n the outskirts of Żabbar, where the landscape softens into open fields and the rhythm of life slows with the wind, Mulberries stands quietly, almost as if it has always belonged there. Its limestone walls glow warmly under the Mediterranean sun, its proportions feel instinctively human, and its presence seems less constructed than remembered. But Mulberries is not an old building. It is something far more deliberate: a story, shaped over time, by one man's persistence, frustration, and deep respect for what is often overlooked. The story begins in 2006, with a property most people would have dismissed without a second thought. Aaron, an architect by profession, had arrived on site with a client who barely stepped inside before deciding it wasn't worth pursuing. The building was in a poor state, carrying the weight of neglect, and an unpleasant smell that made it easy to walk away. But Aaron didn't. Something about it lingered. That evening, long after the visit had ended, the place stayed with him. He called his client, confirmed the decision, and asked if he could take it on himself. By the end of the evening, the first sketch had already taken shape, an instinctive vision of what the building could become. The idea of creating an agriturismo, a place rooted in land and culture, felt immediate and necessary. But in many ways, the impulse ran deeper than that, back to something Aaron had carried with him since childhood. "When I started studying architecture, I always dreamed of building my own building, like a castle. Something I could shape completely, from the ground up." What followed was not a straightforward process. It would take nine years before construction began, a delay that, in hindsight, became essential. Time allowed the project to evolve beyond impulse. It became more considered, more precise, more personal. Had it moved quickly, Aaron admits, it might have followed a more conventional path. Instead, it grew into something he would eventually build with his own hands. "It was just me and another guy. I wanted to understand every part of it, P h o t o g r a p h y : J a m e s B i a n c h i

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