Pulling up to one of Ahuriri/Napier’s most historic homesteads, I tried to remember how long it had been since I’d last visited artist/designer Leanne Culy and her photographer husband Brian. A lot had stayed the same: the laughter, the view, the sense that creativity spills out of every corner. But there’s always something new to discover here. This time, I was playing hotel inspector, checking in as their first guest at the Honey House.
“You’ll be the guinea pig,” Leanne had warned when she invited me to stay. I didn’t hesitate. Any excuse to spend time in their company and to see what they’d been dreaming up next, was reason enough to pack a bag and an appetite for good coffee and creative chaos.
Their latest adventure takes its name from a beekeeping episode that left a lasting impression. When their daughter Billy was spinning honey here years ago, the scent lured a swarm straight through the open window and into the little shed. “It was full of bees,” laughs Leanne. “We had to write ‘Honey House — Do Not Enter’ on the door.” The name stuck, and when they later transformed the building into a guest studio, it felt meant to be.
Perched among mature tōtara, kauri and southern rātā trees, the Honey House is part of what the Culys call their “little utopia on the hill”. For years, friends and strangers alike have been drawn to Balquhidder House, a local landmark known for its warmth and hospitality. Opening the Honey House felt like a natural extension of that generosity, a way to share the creative life they’ve built here and let others enjoy it too.
Crafting it together was a continuation of the way the Culys live: ideas traded across cups of coffee, volleyed back and forth until one lands that feels just right. Leanne describes the concept as “a swimming-pool changing room, but nicer”. She wanted it simple, tactile and easy to live with. The couple had microcement applied across the bathroom walls, constructed a tiled vanity in sunshine yellow and chose fixtures that feel quietly sculptural. The bedroom, softened with natural fabrics and punctuated with toasty terracotta and red, carries the same relaxed energy. “It had to be warm, a bit nostalgic, but not styled within an inch of its life,” Leanne says.
It’s the kind of space that celebrates wear and renewal, with painted concrete floors that can be freshened with another coat and end-of-line tiles that glow like sunlight against the soft texture of microcement. Leanne’s sense of colour is pure intuition.
She talks about feeling her way through tones rather than following rules: layers of ochre, blush and faded blue that echo the Hawke’s Bay landscape. “I like using colour the way that I paint,” she explains. “You add, take away, then add again until it feels right.” That philosophy runs through every part of the project; Brian calls it “creative problem-solving disguised as design”.
Across the courtyard, the door is usually open to Leanne’s pottery studio. Visitors are welcome to wander in, watch her work and maybe take home a freshly fired vessel. In the main house, her painting space occupies half the lounge, where her only concern is splashing paint on the walls Brian has recently repainted. “It’s an ongoing conversation,” he says.
The kitchen, with its shelves of ceramics, is a still-life in motion. In the mornings, Brian pulls espresso shots with barista-level precision, encouraging guests to choose their cup from the wall-mounted collection. “Pick one that feels right today,” he says — a small ritual that sums up their approach to hosting: thoughtful, generous and unpretentious.
The Culys hope guests rest here, of course, but also notice: the play of light, the handmade lamps, the composition of objects that feels more intuitive than arranged. “It’s a visual experience as much as a stay,” says Leanne. “People see the way we live, and hopefully it inspires them to create their own version.”
The courtyard catches the light all day, bees hum through the garden and the old tennis court is slowly being reclaimed by Leanne’s planter boxes. “I’d rather grow vegetables than play sets,” she grins.
Spending time here feels like stepping into a world made by hand, where creativity seeps into everything, from morning coffee to the tiles underfoot. You leave rested and inspired, reminded that art isn’t separate from daily life. It’s lived, shared and, in the case of the Culys, offered generously to anyone lucky enough to check in.
leanneculy.co.nz
Words Alice Lines
Photography Brian Culy
The post Humble, hopeful and dancing with light, the honey house is a place to rest awhile, but also somewhere to feel creatively recharged appeared first on homestyle magazine.
