Finishing, not finished. Yet. But soon. I hope! The icehouse main floor and staircase are slinking slowly toward completion. Sashaying? No. Sauntering. Slowly sauntering. But at last I can say that we’re finishing the floor and the staircase in Rosslyn’s icehouse.
Finishing Floor (Photo: Geo Davis)
We’ve been using Safecoat® Polyureseal BP to seal our hardwood floors for about twenty years. It’s an almost zero VOC alternative to conventional polyurethanes, and it performs really well. For the mixed species, ash and elm, variable with flooring we’re applying six coats with light, fine grit sanding in between coats. We’re not done yet, but the photo above captures the unique character of this homegrown, stump-to-floor hardwood, revealed and enhanced in no small part by the Polyureseal BP. Tony has been responsible for sealing all of the floors in the icehouse including the downstairs ash and elm, and the upstairs beach. Thanks, Tony. Almost done!
Near the top edge of the photograph above, you can catch a glimpse of the last section of the staircase to be completed. Let’s take a closer look.
Finishing Staircase (Photo: Geo Davis)
Supi has recently finished installing the T&G nickel gap paneling. Glen has been following with the paint brush. And Peter is working on the trims, cabinet doors (left), and the bookshelf (right). Home stretch! Well, except for the railings and balusters…Back on February 14, 2023 I was assured by a cabinetry carpenter named Bernie that tackling the banister (+/-2 weeks) and staircase railings would be “a piece of pie”. Unfortunately it’s proven to be a very slooow pie preparation. Hopefully we’ll see the cabinets and railing soon.
No, it’s not my birthday. Yes, I realize that the image accompanying this post might be confusing. Sorry. Framing Rosslyn recollects a previous post celebrating friend and artist Catherine Seidenberg while marking a rewarding step forward toward furnishing and decorating Rosslyn’s icehouse.
As icehouse rehab winds toward the finish line, I’ve been able to begin shifting from construction mode to decorating mode, finally choosing some of the artwork and artifacts that will be joining me in the icehouse soon. Eith the help of my bride and Nico Sardet at Furchgott Sourdiffe Gallery in Shelburne I’ve started to finalize some new framing including this handsome birthday gift from Catherine back in 2016. This remarkable rendering will make its next appearance once framing is complete and it’s hanging in the soon-to-be completely rehabilitated icehouse. Mark. My. Words. (Especially “soon”!)
Custom framing at Furchgott Sourdiffe Gallery means experienced service and attention to detail… [and] extensive design services combined with expert craftsmanship… Archival materials and techniques are used to guarantee preservation of your artwork. (Source: Furchgott Sourdiffe Gallery )
The *Other* Framing
Although the impetus for this post is gratitude for a gift from Catherine and gratitude to Susan and Nico for helping me consider the most suitable frames for the icehouse artwork, I’m also drawn the idea of framing a home. Not just a painting of a home, but the property itself.
I’ve reflected elsewhere on the ways that windows and doors frame exterior views, and even the way that the porosity within a building can frame elements of the interior environment. Perhaps I’m a little obsessive with the ways that hearts become a hole. And the ways that we experience those parts and that whole…
Some years ago when we developed our plans for an historically inspired fence and when we then presented the proposal to the Essex planning board, I tried to convey this notion of framing. The fence, running between the north and south property lines, parallel to the sidewalk and road, and parallel to Lake Champlain, helped define and delineate Rosslyn. Not as a home, but as a property. A collection of four buildings that are related to one another. A cohesive and integrated tableau writ large.
The desire to explore the interrelatedness of these historic buildings through stonewalls and landscaping has been one of the most enjoyable endeavors over the last seventeen years. A slow motion sculpting of Rosslyn’s almost 70 acres into an aesthetically and functionally appealing program, discrete elements coalescing into a logical and well integrated experience. The relationships between the discreet parts — in some cases fixed in brick and mortar, in other cases evolving gradually with experimentation, maturation of flora, and the patina-ing and aging of the built environment — continue to meld with revision and the passage of time. Editing and reevaluating help distill the successful initiatives from this best abandoned. And little by little relationships develop, an affinity emerges. A wholeness, set apart from surroundings. Or so I conceive as, little by little, we strive to frame Rosslyn…
For such a small scope of work, the icehouse rehabilitation has included some remarkably creative one-offs. The garapa door is one such project: a challenging initiative to upcycle reclaimed garapa decking from Rosslyn’s house deck into a minimalist mechanical room door perfectly camouflaged into tbe bathroom walls.
Today I can report that it’s been a triumph!
Garapa Door (Photo: Geo Davis)
Dramatic lighting sure brings the oiled garapa to life! Amber grained, horizontal continuity, just barely framed, an intriguing section of the wall that will allow discrete access to the mechanicals. Polished nickel hinges and passage set, but nominal attention drawing exception to the otherwise seamless expanse of repurposed garapa.
Garapa Door (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
I’ll update with a photo once the rest of the hardware is installed…
After many months of transformation Rosslyn’s icehouse rehab is approaching the finish line. The sum total is conceivable if not yet 100% visible. Many loose ends begging for attention, some small, some not so small. After some time away, adventuring, observing from afar, willing and coaxing and cajoling the project toward completion, I’m back. Boots on the ground. Evaluating the finish schedule and shuffling priorities and trying not to hyperventilate, focusing on the many miraculous accomplishments and essaying to stay calm about the still-to-do’s. Straddling the well-done’s and the still-to-do’s are the icehouse east and west decks. This evening I’ll catch up up on the decking, decking, decking!
Icehouse East Deck (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
You may remember that installation of the garapa decking was already completed on the east deck. In the photo above, you’re viewing the stairs up to the east entrance door. In the photograph below offers more of a 45° angle from southeast toward the northwest, capturing the entire east side deck.
Icehouse East Deck (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
You may recognize those two photographs from my previous post showcasing the completed east deck. Today’s news is that oiling and deck lighting have been completed.
Icehouse East Deck After Oiling (Photo: Geo Davis)
In the photo above and below, you will note that the deck lighting still needs to be pushed in and secured. We will wait to do this until the oil has completely dried, approximately 2-3 days to be safe.
Icehouse East Deck After Oiling (Photo: Geo Davis)
The oil definitely brings out the grain and color. This will fade as sun and weather interact with the oil sealed wood. By late summer, the deck will have mellowed to a more patinated tan or tannish gray. In late autumn we’ll apply another coat of oil this this and the other garapa decks to help preserve them during the long North Country winter.
Icehouse West Deck, Pre-Decking (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
West Deck Progress
The west deck of the icehouse is smaller than Rosslyn’s main house deck but considerably larger than the icehouse’s east deck. Although it does not have the challenge, posed by the stairs on the east side, it does accommodate a hot tub. That said, installation is moving swiftly afoot. The image above shows the structure ready for decking. And the image below, only a few days later, shows the better part of a third complete.
Garapa Decking Icehouse West Deck (Photo: Eric Crowningshield)
If you look closely, you’ll see that there are still plenty of garapa pegs that need to be installed in the skirt boards. That’s definitely time consuming. But what a spectacular result when complete!
Garapa-ing Icehouse West Deck (Photo: Geo Davis)
As of today, less than a third of the decking remains to be installed, and the hot tub — still missing its permanent cover — is in situ, full of water, and *ALMOST* ready for a trial run!
In short, there are still plenty of projects to button up before the icehouse rehab is complete, but there’s also a lot to celebrate. And tonight we’re toasting the decking, decking, decking. Soon it will be done!
Today I’d like to touch upon a recurring theme: re-homing materials and items still potentially useful to others (if no longer to us). We’ve been fortunate over the years to pair Rosslyn’s storage capacity in the carriage barn and icehouse with local expertise — specifically sawyers with portable sawmills able to custom cut logs on our property — so that fallen and culled timber can be transformed into lumber. The stump-to-lumber ash and elm flooring that was so recently installed during the icehouse rehab, up-bumping the character quotient dramatically, was not completely exhausted during installation. In fact, there’s enough surplus that I’m hoping to use it on a future project. But a short term opportunity arose to share some of this material with my nephews for a small but soon to be eye-popping outbuilding in their Rock Harbor renovation.
Re-Homing Stump-to-Lumber Ash & Elm (Photo: Christoph Aigner)
That sneak peek above illustrates the handsome walls and ceiling in what will become a dedicated workspace located a short plein air passage from the house. Looks a lot like the new floor in Rosslyn’s icehouse, right?
Soon this stump-to-lumber paneling will be paired with more re-homed Rosslyn material: Brazilian cherry (Jatoba) flooring remaining from our 2007-8 dining room rehabilitation.
Reimagine, Re-Home, Reuse
From reimagining to rehoming and reusing, Susan and I have been pretty obsessed with creative ways to revitalize and reboot whenever possible. Yes, that’s a whole lot of re-prefixing! I did mention obsession, right?
Baked into the icehouse rehab (and sooo much of our +/-17 year love affair with Rosslyn) is the inclination to salvage and rehabilitate, to recycle and upcycle, to repurpose and reuse… we’ve been keen to reimagine obsolete and abandoned artifacts in new, useful ways. (Source: Re-Homing Exterior Door)
Another similar opportunity, repurposing a pre-hung door, came up recently.
Sustainability is intrinsically rooted in responsible innovation. We strive to incorporate full cycle, cradle-to-grave thinking into our creative endeavors. A half century of combined construction and renovation experience has taught Susan and me that every project is part of a bigger whole, a small arc in a much larger continuum. And Rosslyn’s endurance, a two century story of repeat reinvention, enriches our confidence and our commitment to responsible re-prefixing whenever possible.
So much of our good fortune as Rosslyn’s stewards has been inherited from generations before us. Responsible ownership, conscientious preservation, and magnanimous spirits account for the life we’ve enjoyed on this property. We endeavor to follow in that tradition… (Source: Re-Homing John Deere AMT 626
Yes, Rosslyn has been far more than a home. She’s been our companion and our teacher.
Rosslyn has tutored us in the merits of conservation and preservation, rehabilitation and reinvention, generosity and sharing. (Source: Re-Homing Exterior Door)
And so it has made perfect sense to extend Rosslyn’s generosities to others. And perhaps my nephews’ workspace will afford them a small reminder from time-to-time of the property where they made many memories between childhood and adulthood.
We’ve been finalizing a timely transition from porosity to fenestration in the icehouse rehab. Framed but temporarily concealed apertures have been cut out and transformed into doorways and windows. Jamb extensions, sills, and trims — carpentry confections that conjoin and integrate discrete elements into a cohesive architectural whole — are finally complete inside the icehouse. Exterior trims are still in the works.
When Apertures Become Windows (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
In the photograph above the north facing windows in the main room exemplify the coalescing of elements, framing a view of… gravel and dirt!
This view is evolving as I type. Stone walls and stone steps will define the levels and the transitions between them. In the near ground, a lawn will yield to a stone bordered area of plantings that will bridge the lower elevation outside the deck to the upper elevation where the volleyball and croquet court will once again be located.
When Apertures Become Windows (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
With the jamb extensions complete and the window trims installed the next step will be to scrape paint from the windows and install the hardware. Plenty of convergence and completion happening each day…
With many culminating accomplishments to celebrate as we inch, leapfrog, creep, hurtle,… toward the icehouse rehab finish line, I’ve inevitably overlooked a couple. Maybe a few. One of those notable achievements is completion of framing and decking the icehouse east deck.
Icehouse East Deck (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Although we still need to finish installing plugs and oil sealing the garapa deck, framing and decking the east deck is finito. And it looks superb!
In the photograph above (and the next to below), the framing is complete, and most of the garapa has been installed. Only the risers and skirting are missing.
Icehouse East Deck (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Even incomplete, the handsome honey hues and minimalist design are eye catching. Such warm coloration and intriguing grain!
Icehouse East Deck (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
And then the risers and skirting were installed and everything came together into a seamless whole. Cohesive, integrated design resolves subtly, allowing the elegant historic building to preside over an environment as welcoming and user friendly as it is timeless.
Icehouse East Deck (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Note that Brandon has roughed in the lighting which will make for safe after-dark navigation, unifying this nighttime lighting with the house and waterfront.
Icehouse East Deck (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Imagine, if you can, this wood accentuated by this same afternoon light a couple of weeks from now once oiled and gentled into the landscape with soon-to-be planted beds on the south, east, and north sides. I’m looking forward to it!
Two men on scaffold carpentering, high-fiving, enjoying the view.
Scaffold High
Much of the finish work in recent months has been high above terra firma (interior wall and ceiling paneling, exterior siding, window installation, etc.), so ladders and scaffolding have been omnipresent. Lots of climbing up and down, lifting up and down. Simple tasks become less simple, and complex tasks become more complex. Up, down, up, down,…
And yet the team has persevered. They’ve climbed, lifted, and maintained their upbeat demeanor. They’ve collaborated and they’ve celebrated. High five!
For such a nanoscopic space, it’s a little uncanny how much complex finish carpentry and how much cabinetry have been part of this final stretch in the icehouse rehab. Actually… it’s precisely *BECAUSE* of the nanoscopic proportions that we’ve emphasized builtins and detailed finish work. And degree-by-degree we’re measuring progress toward completion. Even the cabinetry in icehouse loft is beginning to take shape.
An endoskeleton for the soon-to-be loft shelving has begun to take shape. Shop-built carcasses fabricated by Bernie Liberty have been delivered and installation has begun. Lining the north and south knee walls, these reading repositories will soon be lined with bound words… (Source: Loft Shelving)
Cabinetry in Icehouse Loft (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
I accompanied my April 25, 2023 update with a haiku — a loft shelving haiku, of course, — brimming with bookish confidence. Bookshelf confidence, at least. I acknowledged my exuberance at the time.
A little forward leaning, I suppose. Aspirational. Projecting, courtesy of my imagination, a few weeks forward… (Source: Loft Shelving)
A few weeks forward?!?!
“Piece of pie,” the carpenter responded in January when we discussed the icehouse loft cabinetry. He estimated “a couple of weeks” to fabricate and install the cabinets. My optimistic update (referenced above) was posted three months later when some carcasses had been delivered, and the first units were installed. Hhhmmm… Almost two months after that the face frame is joining the ensemble. Hurrah!
Cabinetry in Icehouse Loft (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
I frequently remind Carley that anticipation is half the pleasure. She remains unconvinced, but lately I’ve been reminding myself that this isn’t just a patience mantra. There’s more than a kernel of truth in it. An aphoristic cousin to “distance makes the heart grow fonder”, perhaps?
However we account for it, I’m relieved and more than a little thrilled to see my loft cabinetry coming together. Since this space will be my study, the lofty locus of my productivity, I have a vested interest in the timely and reliable execution of this builtin storage. A tidy workspace is a productive workspace! Heck, I’m overflowing with aphorisms today. And even an autogamous poem…
Study & Studio Haiku
Lo lofty locus, penning’s, typing’s, doodling’s manufactory.
Speaking of anticipation, years of hope and expectation have fertilized the vision for my study-studio in the icehouse loft. A picture perfect panacea! And yet, I recognize the zealous overreach, understand that degrees of recalibration may be necessary. Soon.
Loft Cabinetry
With luck I’ll follow this post soon with a celebratory bookend to this project. Perhaps “a couple of weeks” will have extended into a couple of seasons, but I’ll be able to migrate my books and files and fountain pens and miscellaneous mementos into their new shelves and cabinets. I’ll be able to position my desk beneath the east side gable window and occupy the chair with a view for productive mornings in my loft. Ah, Elysium.
My mind meanders, doubling back on an exchange with Pam this past winter.
Geo: Builtins will combine open shelving (note dimension changes per our meeting) and cabinet doors (paint grade shaker style with flat panel and no panel molding) concealing deep cabinet storage. Please review plans and help me determine whether or not we can/should fabricate in-house or subcontract to a cabinetry shop. (Note: I’m hoping to evaluate whether or not our team is well suited to undertaking this mostly shop-work carpentry, and whether or not it is the most pragmatic use of our resources.
Pam: Builtins have been snapped out. I have a cabinet maker stopping in tomorrow to see the scope of work and discuss his availability.
Willing forward motion — cabinetry installation, final painting, hardware, and… migrating from the house to the icehouse — in the coming days.
After months of icehouse rehabilitation, this door is no longer needed. But it still has plenty of life left in it. Given Tony’s commitment to this project since day one, it feels especially appropriate that he’ll be able to re-home this ready-to-hang door. Architectural salvage with an individualized backstory!
Re-Homing & Reusing
Baked into the icehouse rehab (and sooo much of our +/-17 year love affair with Rosslyn) is the inclination to salvage and rehabilitate, to recycle and upcycle, to repurpose and reuse. Whether the old piano we discovered in the carriage barn or the stone cistern/cesspool that was disinterred during replanting of an evergreen hedge last summer, we’ve been keen to reimagine obsolete and abandoned artifacts in new, useful ways.
Do you remember this?
We’re hoping to “re-home” our AMT 626 John Deere “truckling”… While… a reliable workhorse since, well, since forever (1990-ish, maybe?!?!) it’s old enough that we’re not feeling like a sale is the right option. We’re less interested in trading it for your hard earned loot and more interested in finding the best next chapter for this handsome beast of burden. Who can offer the most idyllic retirement (gentle work, lots of love, and maybe a nice nickname?) for this decades’ old John Deere? (Source: Re-Homing John Deere AMT 626)
Here’s a quick attempt to explain one of the many inclinations for our reuse commitment.
So much of our good fortune as Rosslyn’s stewards has been inherited from generations before us. Responsible ownership, conscientious preservation, and magnanimous spirits account for the life we’ve enjoyed on this property. We endeavor to follow in that tradition… (Source: Re-Homing John Deere AMT 626)
In other words, Rosslyn has tutored us in the merits of conservation and preservation, rehabilitation and reinvention, generosity and sharing. That this temporary means to secure and insulate access during our icehouse rehab will now be re-employed year round at Tony’s home is an apt destiny for this door.
More Re-Homing Soon…
Please note that I will be announcing additional re-homing opportunities in the weeks and months ahead. Are you interested?
The art of home is a tidy title with an unpretentious posture. And yet it’s idealistic and evocative, ample and ambitious. Frankly, its restrained and self contained first impression is a little misleading. Maybe even a little ambiguous. What do I even mean? I’m not offering a catchy epithet for design and decor. Nor architecture. And yet, it certainly may include some or all of these. When I describe the art of home, I’m conjuring several things at once.
In conjoining art and creativity with home-ness, I’m alluding to my own personal outlook on an intrinsic relationship between the two as well as an aspirational goal. Home isn’t science. Or, home isn’t only science (or even mostly science.) Sure, there’s science and math and all manner of practical, detail and data driven inputs in transforming a house into a home. But there’s much more. There’s a profoundly personal, subjective, intimate relationship at play in the act of homemaking. And, in the best of circumstances, essential circumstances in my opinion, home becomes a sanctuary for creating, an oasis for art.
All of this binds art-ing and homing. The art of home is a look at the homeness of art and the art of homing. It is an attempt to discern what allows one’s domestic sanctuary to transcend mere utility (a garage to cache one’s car, a grill to sear one’s supper, a nest within which to sleep, a shower with which to wash away the sleep and sweat), to transcend the housing function and become a place of growth and nurturing, an incubation space, a revitalizing space, a dreaming and dream-fulfilling space,…
In the photograph at the top of this post you can see the icehouse, mid-rehabilitation, tucked in beside the carriage barn, both frosted in snow like fairy tales illustrations or gingerbread confections. After a decade and a half my slowly percolating art of home has matured from a pipe dream into a concept into a clutch of sketches into construction plans into a creative collaborative of many. And for a few short weeks I’m privileged to participate daily, to engage in a real and hands-on way after participating from afar, participating virtually. It’s a peculiar but exciting transition. An ongoing transition.
The Art of Home: Poem Excerpt
I’ve been excavating through layers of creativity compressed into, and coexisting within, my notion of homeness. While shaping a house into a home is in and of itself a creative art — indeed a nearly universal creative art, even among those quick to volunteer that they are not artistic, not creative — I’m deeply curious about my awn associations with home as a cradle and catalyst of art. I’m trying to tease apart these different layers of art in a still embryonic poem, so I’ll include only a section about gardening, a creative pursuit that I inherited from my mother decades ago.
...composing a garden,
my own personal patch,
from selecting seeds —
corn, radishes pumpkins,
tomatoes, and sunflowers —
to turning the soil,
working compost
into last summer's
stems and stalks,
into clay clodded dirt,
into July-August hopes.
Watering and weeding,
thinning, scarecrowing,
suckering, and staking...
Composing a garden is but one of the many instances that the art of home means something to me. Cooking. Writing. Telling stories. Pruning the orchard. Entertaining guests. Landscaping. Drawing. Adapting old buildings into new lifestyle enabling and enriching spaces.
The Art of Home: Documentary
At the heart of Rosslyn Redux is a quest to discern and describe what I’m learning about the art of home. But there is still more question than answer. I’m still untangling my thoughts, still reaching for some sort of clarity that might improve my ability to communicate concisely what I have found so captivating, and why it has obsessed me for so long.
But I’m not there there. My journey is ongoing. So I will, for now, offer another perspective on the art of home, a captivating documentary that obliquely sheds light upon our Santa Fe / Essex home duality.
Two indigenous artists create new works reflecting on their tribal homelands, the Wind River Indian Reservation. Ken Williams (Arapaho) is a Santa Fe art celebrity and Sarah Ortegon (Shoshone) is an up-and-coming actress in Denver. Both artists travel to Wind River Reservation to reconnect with their ancestors and present their art work to a somewhat isolated community. (Source: The Art of Home: A Wind River Story,PBS)
Intertwined with Sarah Ortegon’s and Ken Williams’s extended meditation on the relationships between art, creative expression, identity, home, culture, family, and belonging are the perspectives of other Native Americans including George Abeyta who touches on home as a place of strength.
“Your home, it’s a place of your family. It’s a place of warmth and comfort and strength and happiness. It’s the place where were you look forward to going because that’s your stronghold. That’s your place of prayer.” — George Abeyta
In the context of beadwork Abeyta is examining it feels seamless and comfortable the way we moves from beading motifs to home as a bastion of strength, as a stronghold. Also a space where family, warmth, comfort, happiness, and even prayer coexist. Perhaps even where they are rooted, where they thrive. The subject of his reflection, a beaded ornament akin to a necktie, is an intricate work of art, and as such it functions as a vehicle or a vessel to showcase and honor these fundamental elements. This notion of home, and more specifically the art of home, as a sort of sacred space for strength and belonging, for identity and connectedness, for family and for happiness resurfaces throughout this documentary. I encourage you to make time (just under an hour) to appreciate it from beginning-to-end.
Another exciting, we’re-getting-close communiqué to share today: the glass shower enclosure in the icehouse bathroom has been installed. While these photographs may not do the shower justice (a little bit of perspective distortion, perhaps?), the progress is worth trumpeting because it represents one more notable stride toward completion.
The glass and polished nickel shower enclosure looks ample in the snapshot above. It’s not. The entire building is diminutive, and the bathroom is super compact. The shower? Even more so! But for now we’ll enjoy the exaggerated perspective, a little eye candy to balance the snug proportions of the *REAL* (ie. not distorted by the mysterious magic of digital photograph) glass shower enclosure.
The photo below provides greater verisimilitude, and it helps orient the pedestal sink adjacent to the shower, a sneak peek at the bathroom as it will appear once complete (if we can manage to photograph this small space without continuing to distort dimensions and proportions, a challenge when quarters are tight.
Speaking of glass and nickel, I requested that Superior Glass Company (who templated, fabricated, and installed the glass shower enclosure) match the shower enclosure’s 1/2” clear tempered glass and gently beveled edges with glass shelves that we’ll be floating inside the garapa niche. Here are the shelves, ready to install.
Glass Shelves for Niche (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
I’m still sourcing polished nickel pins (or similar shelf supports) albeit unfruitfully so far. Soon I’m hoping to locate minimalist hardware finished in polished nickel suitable to support these rather stout shelves. Proportion is important, and so far I’m only finding undersized pins…
