Pablo Bronstein, artist: 'Drawing was extremely liberating - not worrying about use was a dream'

Four years ago Pablo Bronstein retreated from the London art scene to the south coast in Deal, Kent, with his partner, Leo Boix, a journalist. It seems appropriate to visit him here as I recently saw his work in Folkestone, an elaborate beach hut that has already become a landmark for the town.

His house, built in the 16th century, could be called a work of art: he and his partner are carefully restoring it to look original – even if many of the alterations are new. He proudly shows me his desk, complete with sea views, where he works on his large intricate drawings.

Bronstein was born in 1977 in Buenos Aires, but moved to London when his parents saw job opportunities here – his father is a neuro-ontologist – and his native land was immersed in political problems.

Argentina is important to Bronstein: "I used to cast my mind back to the elegance of my grandparents and the life they led – very glamorous – my grandmother's house and my grandfather's boats. It was a long way from the greyness of the London suburb where we lived."

Bronstein has always drawn. "It was extremely liberating – not worrying about use: it was a dream," he says. I ask if he drew the traditional house with two windows and pitched roof and he laughs. "No, I drew castles, with carefully demarcated bricks – and each brick would have a different motif carefully drawn upon it."

He started to think that he should be an architect but that only lasted a few weeks before he transferred to art college. "I'm a slut. I want the pleasure – the bells and whistles." In other words, the dreaming and inspiration is more important to him than the hard graft of dealing with clients and building sites.

There is no questioning the technique and the labour-intensive quality of his work. His large projects always contain some architectural elements, however, a mixing of real and imaginary. They also often include dancers to set off the architecture. He is not interested in the choreography but sees them more as sculptural elements in the scenery.

For Folkestone he provided four different designs that he could fulfil, with a nod to Humphry Repton and Capability Brown, the garden-makers of the 18th century. He is not surprised by the final choice, a slender obelisk column that rises majestically above its small footprint. It is a place that one would like to enter and climb but it is not possible to do so. One may only gaze and wonder.

Bronstein's obsessive attention to detail is reflected in the meticulously designed house that he and his partner have created. He proudly points out his collection of silver, in a case that he designed himself and had made locally. His memory of his grandparents lives in that case. "I have to polish them," he says. And gleam they do.

Lookout is showing at the Folkestone Triennial (folkestonetriennial.org.uk) to 2 November