the Value of Beauty

Still Life by William Nicholson c. 1900

So what is beauty?  Every civilization has a different standard or ideal of what beauty is.  It is based on our history and our collective cultural experience.  Moreover, within each culture, our tastes, likes and dislikes are unique to who we are.  What I find beautiful, my wife or son may not.

As a designer, I find that one of the greatest challenges is to create beautiful objects, be they buildings, furnishings or graphic patterns that have a broad appeal and aesthetic longevity.   After all, isn't one of the greenest approaches to design and manufacturing to create things of enduring relevance?

I think it's important that we all pause to take stock of what we find beautiful.  Look around your home.  What objects have you cherished for more than a few years?  Is there a consistency to those things.  What about your community?  What are the structures that are preserved, restored or well maintained?

Detail of the Sistine Chapel Ceiling
by Michelangelo c. 1510

While beautiful things do not guarantee happiness, they add a texture of palpable vitality to our lives.  And yet as Alain de Botton notes in his book, The Architecture of Happiness, “To care deeply about a field that achieves so little, and yet consumes so many of our resources, forces us to admit to a disturbing, even degrading lack of aspiration.”  Yet given the seemingly folly character of aesthetics, we are driven to continuously appreciate, and even rival the beauty that nature surrounds us with. 

I’m not sure what constantly drives me to want to make beautiful things.  All I know is that I am driven.  I hope that the work I create is met with eyes that appreciate my personal interpretation of beauty, and derive pleasure in doing so..

Re-use, Replace or Reupholster

When working with clients on interior projects, one of my first tasks is to inventory their existing furnishings and artwork.  I am often asked by my clients the benefits of reupholstering versus buying new furniture.  Here there are a number of questions I ask to establish the viability of recycling a piece of upholstery. 

A well loved family sofa re-invented as a fun focal point

Does the piece have sentimental value?  Was this your father’s chair that was reserved solely for him when you were a child?  Does it evoke visceral memories of pipe smoke, single malts and newspapers? 

Is it beautiful?  Ignore the thread-bear arms that are held together with duct tape.  Does it have sensual lines or unusual massing.  Think about it as if it were a person.  Would you be interested in knowing it’s story if you met it on the street?

Is it exceptionally comfortable?  Does it have the perfect seat depth for your extra-long legs or the ideal angle of repose for napping?

If you cannot answer one of these questions with a resounding “yes”, it may be time to reassess your relationship with this house-mate of yours.  And while jettisoning an old couch and finding a fresh new shape might be OK in the world of furnishings, I don’t recommend taking this approach with spouses prior to serious soul-searching and intense counseling! 

The truth of the matter is that, depending on the condition of your frame and internal support system, it may be cost effective to buy a new piece altogether.  Some things to look for in an older piece might include:

A well made antique wing chair
midway through restoration

Solid hardwood frame construction with mortised and pegged connections

Hand-carved details (And not those that are “hand-carved” by women and children on a production linein  an emerging country)

Horse-hair stuffing and edge-roll

Down filled cushions

Hand-tied springs

One of my closest friends, Isaiah McCauliffe, is an exceptional upholsterer.  And I am often intrigued by seeing his patients lined up in the waiting room, ready to go under the knife of this skilled cosmetic surgeon.  Each has a story.  Some are nostalgic, like sofa that was laden with presents every Christmas morning for as long as memory serves.  While others are tragic, like the chair with three broken legs that was the collateral damage from a dormitory brawl, or the couch who’s back panel was chewed by a teething puppy.

This chair is NOT too far gone
and worth the investment of
reupholstery!

My friend, Isaiah, was quick to remind me not to give up hope when you think a piece is too far gone.  Even with internal organs trailing across your living room floor, that beloved ottoman may be salvageable.  “It’s what I do!” said Isaiah, referring to the reconstructive surgery of his trade.

If, once you have weighed the pros and cons of the decision of rehabilitating versus replacing a piece of furniture, you still cannot decide, flip a coin.  If you’re not happy with the outcome of the coin toss, you had already made up your mind!

Closure: The final chapter of a series on the design process

A couple of weeks ago, I took a trip to New Jersey to photograph a project about which I've been writing occasionally.  Unlike previous visits to the site, this was purely for my own benefit.  The house is complete, furnishings placed, and the owners have moved in for their beach-side holidays.  I packed my bags and camera and booked into my home-away-from-home inn.


It has been a long process.  But the builder, Gary Hedrick, along with his incredible crew, made the journey as painless and pleasant as possible. This was my time to see where we've arrived.  However, in order to understand the impact, I think it's important to see a little of where we've come from.

The Original Home

An Early Character Sketch

The Finished Home

Whenever I have the opportunity to return to a project, it is like visiting a child whom you've watched grow and mature.  There is a connection to the built form that is hard to explain.  While I work hard to capture the essence of who my clients are, a part of me gets knitted into the project's fabric.

Entry Hall

Given the scope of the project, combined with the restraints of the prescriptive building envelope, I am very pleased with the spaces we were able to create.  There is a true variety of scale, mood and texture in the house.  However, each of these spaces is held together by a common thread of detail and proportion much like contrasting yet coordinated beads on a string.  

The Library

I am greatly indebted to the craftsmen who took as much pride in the project as I.  Only through a team with a consistent commitment to quality can such a project come together smoothly.  From precise framing to artisan woodworking and finishing, each layer of workmanship relies on the foundation of the one set before it.  Not only is this a beautiful home to look at, but one can also feel the integrity of the workmanship that is systemically incorporated throughout.

The Great Room

Designed as a gathering place for extended family, this is the kind of home that one can easily see passing on through many generations and serving as the backdrop for some of life's greatest memories.

Portrait of a Client

 I’m often asked “Do you have a design style?”  I find that a tough question to answer, as my work is project specific and stylistically varied.  As an architect, illustrator and designer, my goal is to convey a message, evoke a feeling, and most often, paint a portrait of my client.  Few people hire a custom designer to create a project that looks just like their neighbor’s.

Whether designing a home, a room or a restaurant, my first objective is to get to know my client and understand his or her vision.  I send clients off from initial meetings with a homework assignment.  Our programming worksheets ask the clients a number of questions about the project in question.  Digital or tactile clippings files of inspirational images are requested so that clients can graphically communicate their tastes and preferences.

On the designer side of the equation, I like to take research field trips.  I will often schedule to visit my clients’ homes or explore similar program type precedents.  (I recently visited a couple in New Jersey to better understand their personal tastes as I prepared to design their Vermont home.  And a tour of New York brasseries armed me with a vocabulary to pursue a recent restaurant project.)

 

In the end, every project I design should be a clear reflection of the owner.  Infused in its fiber, needs to be a DNA as unique as a fingerprint.  That core thesis in turn, informs every decision about the project, such that each detail supports the whole, creating an end product that is about its built, temporal and personal context.

Architectural Salvation

 For old houses, salvation comes not in the form of a Messiah, but rather, the hands of a talented crew of dedicated builders.  I am fortunate to have a large portion of my practice focused on the restoration of wonderful buildings that have fallen prey to the hands of time.  It takes a special team of clients, designers and builders who see the value in preserving and restoring these historic gems.

Often with old buildings, there is a palpable sense of history that has little to do with the remaining sticks and bricks that stand before you.  Our job is to capture that spirit, by thoroughly documenting the character-defining attributes and developing strategies for bringing the structure up to modern performance standards while preserving the essence  of the building.

Our current extensive rehabilitation project is one that has caught the attention of the community.  Sited on Main Street, in Manchester, Vermont,  it is a contributing building to the Village Historic District.  In its heyday, it was a delightful summer home, with wrap-around porches and gracious lawns.  When the current owners bought it, the porches were falling off, trees were growing out of the roof and wild animals had taken up residence within.

The Independent - Thursday, April 7, 1870

Before we could start developing a plan, we spent a great deal of time documenting the existing structure, and trying to establish the chronology of changes that had occurred over the life of the building.  Photographs and drawings were made to chronicle the building details that would require re-fabrication.  Builder, Paul Mackson, peeled back layers of finishes, and tore out non-load-bearing walls that had been superficially erected to create a warren of rooms.  Organic insulation believed to be seaweed and old newspapers were removed from wall cavities.  A Wall Street Journal from 1875 and an 1870 issue of The Independent firmly positioned the house in the late 19th century.

Ready for jacking!

A good foundation is paramount to any structures longevity.  Once the primary demolition was complete, Connor House Movers came in to jack up the structure off of its assemblage of stone walls that had shifted over the past century and had gaping holes and waterways running through them.  Excavators are in the process of digging out the basement.  Soon the house will be lowered back onto a clean, dry and insulated basement.

Positioned for its new foundation.

When complete, this village gem will once again be a positive contributor to the charming character of Manchester, Vermont.  Its lucky inhabitants will reap the benefits of a tight and energy-efficient home that boasts the conveniences of modern living while maintaining the nostalgic grace of a bygone era.