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Durable Joinery

Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)

Joints. Joinery. Rejoinery. Durable. Dynamic. Durable dynamics. Durable joinery. Team dynamics…

Consider that word parade fair warning for where I’m headed. From dovetails to team dynamics, in the twinkling of an eye. At least, that was my plan in revisiting a flood of field notes. Instead my errand evolved into a meandering meditation on admittedly abstract, fairly freestyle associations between durable joinery and team dynamics.

So, if you’re the A-to-Z git-r-done type, this is a good post for you to skip. Probably. Unless you’ve already burned a cord of calories and you’re surfing a dopamine-endorphin wave, in which case this might be just the departure from your daily that the doctor ordered. (The proverbial doctor, not the real doctor.)

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s rewind a few weeks to my sudden and unanticipated decampment from Santa Fe to Essex.

Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)

Icehouse Intermission

Mission interrupted, more to the point. Icehouse rehab back on ice for a week or two while we regrouped and remapped and, eventually, rebooted. Upon approaching Rosslyn by water — steely skies and surreal snowflakes fluttering occasionally (as if the special effects team had been downsized), an almost empty ferry, a mostly hibernating hamlet hunkering lakeside — mixed emotions roiled within me.

There was a wellspring of anticipation upon returning to inspect firsthand the team’s progress on the icehouse rehab, boathouse gangway, and some painting and tiling maintenance inside our home. There was also the poignant pique of a visit precipitated not by plan or passion but by infelicitous necessity. (Source: Snow Falling on Homecoming)

Three weeks ago this past Wednesday. The following days were invigorating. Encouraging.

By in large, this impromptu return to Rosslyn has been profoundly positive…

[“On the Level“, a poem drafted during my visit, reflects] the reassurance that I’m encountering, the confidence and conviction that are flowing back in after ebbing…

[…]

On the level, there’s plenty of optimism, despite inevitable setbacks. (Source: On the Level)

The progress was grounding, familiarizing myself physically with what I’d been living virtually, witnessing in person the dramatic transformation of this long-held vision into tangible, well built, inviting spaces and floors and walls and stairs and windows and doors. The volumes and the vessel that contains them, defines them, that had been gestating for almost two decades, was at last becoming believable due to the collaboration and teamwork of many.

Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)

A furtive foray into the curious coalescence of still tender fractures and ruptures that drew me back to Rosslyn (and that continue to disclose themselves each day of my stay, reminders of quaking in recent weeks) but also the durable bonds and the abiding beauty that hold it all together. (Source: Bowtie & Broken Memento)

While it is indeed Rosslyn’s abiding beauty that beckoned us to this property in the first place and her abiding beauty that has buoyed us through years of historic rehabilitation (and personal rehab!), there are times when the border between broken and unbroken blurs and faultiness become fractures. In such cases it is the durable bonds that prevail, that steady the proverbial ship, that hold it all together.

Rarely, I find, does the journey tidily delineate between clear victories and clear setbacks. Ours is a nonbinary and highly subjective adventure, and this midwinter, mid-project hiatus is no exception. Disheartening and challenging, yes, but also an opportunity to acknowledge and to celebrate accomplishment, a notable benchmark on the quest to reinvent a 19th century utility building as a 21st century lifestyle hub on a par with Rosslyn’s gracious home, waterfront, and generous grounds.

In short, there was — and there is — far more to fête than to lament at this juncture.

Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)

Back to Work & Field Notes

In what’s become a familiar pattern, today’s post was an orphaned draft, initiated as field notes during my recent Essex sojourn, and then adapted into a readout for the team to catalyze our onsite meetings into an actionable scope of work. That part happened. Practical. Necessary. Timely. Now, with the benefit of sufficient remove (for tempering tone and shifting perspective) I’m revisiting those field notes from a more meditative perspective. And yes, my reflection has been fueled in no small part by an obsession with joinery.

Before I go there, guiding you into the mesmerizing maze of my imagination (bread crumbs advised), let’s ground this soon-to-be-ungrounded stream of conscious in the days we spent together as a team. Here are a few excerpts recapping my extended site visit.

We met as a big group and as multiple smaller groups over more than a week. Much was rehashed, brainstormed, problematized, and decided during these encounters, so I’d like to follow up with a readout from our main meeting as well as some of the items that came out independently in my one-on-one followups. Please understand that some of what I’m including may feel like micromanaging or second-guessing skills, expertise, experience, etc. Please accept my apologies in advance, and understand that neither are among my objectives. However the last month has illustrated the downside to having direction and decision-making silo’ed up. By “flattening” the team, I am hoping to shift the focus toward a more collegial, more ensemble oriented approach. We have ample resources in our team (an almost embarrassing abundance of skill, passion, and work ethic!), and I want to make sure that everyone has an opportunity to contribute, to catch problems before they materialize, to learn from one another, and to avoid the bottlenecks and logjams that we can’t afford at this halfway point.

We will continue to rely on Pam, Peter, and Eric as the three leads or “co-captains” with the objective of streamlining on-site decision-making and progress. But I strongly encourage everyone to study the plans, to ask questions, to make suggestions, and to contribute to the collaborative success of the icehouse rehabilitation as we cartwheel toward the finish line.

Although we covered an expansive scope of work during our meetings, I gathered the gist into a detailed outline for everyone to review, edit, and augment prior to our team meeting the following week. In addition to onboarding everyone as a contributing and valuable member of the team while reaffirming a commitment to transparency as we move forward, I also hope to encourage the sort of cross pollination that has consistently defined the high point of this and previous projects.

Our follow-up team meeting fleshed out the scope of work and cemented the near term benchmarks and timeline. We will be able to revisit weekly with an eye to efficient project management, clear expectations, and an emphasis on incubating the sort of collaborative environment that yields the best results and ensures the most enthusiastic comradely. Goals set. Updates as we advance upon these goals.

So that sets the stage in a dry, rearview mirror sort of way.

What it overlooks is the morale, outlook ,and commitment of everyone with whom I met. Shuffling the team and shifting responsibilities midstream is unsettling and disruptive at best. The way this team came together, processed the change, stepped up to new responsibilities, and immediately, resolutely refocused on the new map and timelines was astounding. Confident and optimistic, proud of their accomplishments heretofore, eager to restore forward motion, and laser focused on the tight timeline, elevated expectation, and bountiful challenges. Unwavering. And hopeful that the full team might be reconstituted in the home stretch to finish up strong together, and to collectively commemorate their accomplishments come June.

And this is part of what takes me to the woodworking, and specifically joinery, as a metaphor. Heck, it’s not even just the sorts of joining and conjunction that are foundational to joinery and even carpentry. It’s the millennia old art and artisanry committed to joining, conjoining, and even mending that fascinates me. I’ve waxed on aplenty about wab-sabi, so I’ll sidestep a tangential deep dive now (ditto for Kintsugi.) A tidy touchstone will suffice.

Wabi-sabi (侘寂) is a world view centered on the acceptance of transience and imperfection. The aesthetic is sometimes described as one of appreciating beauty that is “imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete” in nature. (Source: Wikipedia)

Joining, conjoining, and reconjoining. No false disguise, no pretense, no faux facade. Bringing together. Bringing back together. I’m clearly still ill equipped to wordsmith my ideas into articulate or persuasive prose. But I’m working on it. And I’m hurling this half-baked post into the world with the unrestrained wish that it will settle on fertile soil, that it will germinate, and that I will be able to observe and learn how to communicate what it is that I’m discovering, this groundswell of insight that I’m experiencing without yet fully comprehending what it is. Bear with me, and I’ll do my best to interpret the lessons as they are learned.

In the mean time, I will draw in two compelling perspectives that may well shed some light.

Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)

Joinery as Metaphor

Allow me a moment to weave in a consideration that deftly approaches the idea of woodworking as metaphor.

I am building a file cabinet for my office. It strikes me an apt metaphor for what we do as teachers in the classroom. I begin with a vision, followed by making a clearly developed plan. I gather the materials I will need – examining them for grain, quality, and fit. Each piece is cut just over the requisite length. I use a variety of joinery techniques to assemble the parts. The finished piece begins to take form. From the rough construction, wood is slowly and strategically removed, rounding edges and corners, sanding rough edges and surfaces, slowly revealing the finished shape. I stand back to see what continues to require attention. Final details are attended. Stain is gently rubbed in; varnish is brushed on – rubbed smooth between coats. I stand back and smile, satisfied with a pleasing, useful piece of furniture. — Bill Lindquist, January 3, 2012 (Source: The Purple Crayon)

Teaching. Yes. And team building. Team rebuilding.

Perhaps the following is only tangentially related, though it feels germane.

But I know full well that many woodworkers don’t want to hear about philosophy. What practical value can there possibly be in sitting around thinking about work? Isn’t it better just to roll up your sleeves and get to it?

I believe that this temptation to leave our brains at the door of the shop is rooted in a fundamental misunderstanding of human nature that separates our thinking from our doing…

We are whole beings, and although we have inner and outer aspects (mind/soul and body), we are essentially unities, not dualities… you cannot separate your mind from your body. You can’t put your thoughts and beliefs in one category and your practices in another.

So, why so much thinking and theory from a woodworking publication? Because, reader, you have a mind inextricably connected to those hands. And I am convinced that if we want our work to reflect the fullness of who we are, the why will be just as important as the how. — Joshua A. Klein, September 28, 2021 (Source: What’s With This Woodworking Philosophy Stuff? – Mortise & Tenon Magazine)

Absolutely. (And, as an aside, this reminds me that I’ve been ignoring another orphaned draft about Rosslyn’s 5w’s. Back on the punch list!)

Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)

At present I’m endeavoring to unweave our recent Rosslyn narrative just enough to re-braid the threads that anew, mending the challenges that have arisen, as if braiding a bridge over troubled water… (Or a bridge graft at the base of a partially girdled tree in Rosslyn’s orchard… Yikes! Mixed metaphors. And so long as I’m hoarding metaphors, what about kintsugi?)

Kintsugi is an ancient Japanese art in which broken pottery is mended with glue and gold honoring and highlighting the cracks rather than hiding them. The belief is the pottery is stronger and more valuable after the breakage and mending. Kintsugi is a powerful metaphor and physical art practice to explore layers of meaning of broken, to look at the pieces in new ways, and notice the ‘glue’ in our lives that assist us to mend, navigate challenging times and keep on going. — Kristin Pedemonti (Source: Mending What’s Broken | Steer Your Story)

The writhing winds are pulling my mind hither and yon, and I find myself too, too deep into this meandering meditation to abandon it. If I’ve lost you, I apologize. Know that we are lost together. But as fellow sojourners we are not idle, waiting for the illumination of morning. Perhaps we’ll stumble upon or quarry in the darkness.

In closing, and I promise you I am, allow me to apologize for this untethered and unedited runaway. More soon, I hope, on mortise and tenons and dovetails, joyful joinery, rejoinery and durable bonds. My imagination is conjuring an intricate scarf joint that conjoins by gathering, by honoring, by encouraging, a meticulously crafted union where stresses are distributed in all directions and resilient when forces challenge. My imagination is ringing with the melody of strengthen, even repairing a strained or failing joint. Join, conjoin, reconjoin…

February 19, 2023
Opossum O’Clock
You’ve heard of happy hour. And maybe even beer blogging. But opossum o’clock?

Carley *Prior* to Opossum O’Clock (Photo: Geo Davis)

Earlier this evening (or late this afternoon, if you’re still jet lagging from the standard time to daylight savings time adjustment,) Carley burst into a barking frenzy. Bark, bark, bark,… Not an excited “My momma’s home!” bark. Nor an “I need to pee” bark. It was an unmistakable alarm bark.

So I extracted myself from my desk chair and headed down to the sunporch where she’s taken to snoozing, tucked between pillows on the sofa, most days lately.

But she wasn’t on the sofa. She was alert at the glass doors, pointing, hackles high. All business.

So I followed her gaze to the stonewall around the back deck where a fat opossum was waddling. Carley was incensed. Why wouldn’t I let her out? She wanted to show that overgrown rat who was boss around here!

The opossum finally made her/his way up and over the snow bank, across the driveway, and then began an ungainly exit toward the hemlock hedge. At least until Carley seemed less threatening at which point the opossum made a 90° turn to the right and began waddling down toward the bird feeders hanging under the ginkgo tree.

Opossum, Oh, Possum

What to make of these quirky characters that have become commonplace in the Adirondacks despite the fact that I never saw one in this area in the 1970s and 1980s when I was growing up. Are they even native?

I turned to ChatGPT, the chatbot causing such a stir lately, to see what light it might shed (or make up).

Yes, the opossum is native to North America. In fact, it is the only marsupial that is native to the continent. Opossums can be found throughout much of the United States and Mexico, as well as parts of Central America and Canada. They are known for their distinctive appearance, including their long snout, hairless tail, and opposable thumbs on their hind feet. Opossums are also well-known for their ability to “play dead” when threatened, which is actually a defensive mechanism called thanatosis. (Source: Source: ChatGPT)

Not 100% sure that’s all tip-top information given the rather dubious ChatGPT answer that was shared with me earlier today by David Howson. (More on that tomorrow perhaps?) Let’s see what Wikipedia contributors believe about the opossum.

Opossums (/əˈpɒsəm/) are members of the marsupial order Didelphimorphia (/daɪˌdɛlfɪˈmɔːrfiə/) endemic to the Americas. The largest order of marsupials in the Western Hemisphere, it comprises 93 species in 18 genera. Opossums originated in South America and entered North America in the Great American Interchange following the connection of North and South America.

The Virginia opossum is the only species found in the United States and Canada. It is often simply referred to as an opossum, and in North America it is commonly referred to as a possum (/ˈpɒsəm/; sometimes rendered as ‘possum in written form to indicate the dropped “o”). Possums should not be confused with the Australasian arboreal marsupials of suborder Phalangeriformes that are also called possums because of their resemblance to the Didelphimorphia. The opossum is typically a nonaggressive animal. (Source: Wikipedia)

Seems like there’s enough overlap to set us straight (and enough Australasian unclarity to invite confusion?)

Let’s turn instead to a far more reliable source, poetry.

Opossum Poem
```
Oh, possum, opossum,
our springtime may have come;
narcissus nudging up,
snow melting into mud.

Perhaps prehensile tail,
opposable thumbs, and
dying art theatrics
have inured you to threats.

Or perhaps you're aware
that my Labrador's barks
are booming bluster not
cause for canine concern.

But beware, snouty snoop,
that winter's not finished,
and precocious parades
hint-hinting at hubris

may well invite frigid
flashbacks, hail, blizzards, and
temperate day delays
with bites bigger than barks.
```
Playing Opossum

[Witnessing the curious creature investigating our deck and yard, I’m transported back to another opossum memory, this one from December 23, 2008 during our early days living at Rosslyn with Griffin, our Labrador prior to Carley.]

Saturday morning and we’re sitting in the morning room eating waffles in our bathrobes and slippers. We’ve slept in, lazed around, made breakfast, and lingered over the ritual of starting our day.

It snowed last night. Not much, but just enough to cover everything. Maybe an inch. Wet snow. Like white frosting coating everything.

Suddenly I’m aware that a critter is making its way across the front lawn toward us. Actually Griffin realized it, stood up from his bed abruptly and pointed, hair on his back standing straight up, low rumbling half barks alternating with half threatening, half excited glances at us then back at the animal. Like a huge rat. Wet from the soggy snow. Dragging itself across the grass, then across the gravel driveway, then across the grass between the driveway and the house. He was coming right toward us and Griffin was not sure whether to be protective or excited.

“An opossum,” Susan and I both said at the same time.

“I’ve never seen one here,” I said.

“Me either,” Susan said.

“Looks like he’s headed for the trash bins,” I reasoned and picked up my Blackberry from the table. “I want to go take a picture.”

“Don’t go out there.”

“Why not?”

“He could bite you. They’re mean.”

“I won’t get that close. Just a quick picture then I’ll be back in.”

The opossum had managed to pull himself up the stone step to the deck and was waddling past the sliding doors of the garbage and recycling shed toward the back deck.

I opened the door and headed outside in my bathrobe and slippers to get a closer look and a photo.

And then, as if Susan had cast a spell upon me, totally wipe out.

I fell on my back, head bouncing off the deck, limbs splayed to the from corners, bathrobe wide open, buck naked, looking up at the sky. And at a freaked out opossum literally a foot from my face, chattering his teeth menacingly.

Susan was laughing, Griffin was barking wildly inside, I was stunned, and the opossum was presiding.

“Why isn’t he playing dead,” I asked.

“Why should he? You already are?”
March 13, 2023
Elevation Headway

It was a super Saturday for Rosslyn’s icehouse rehab. Several concurrent projects underway, but the most notable progress was the interior east elevation (in the loft) and the exterior west elevation. I’ll try to get out of the way and let the photos do the talking.

Icehouse West Elevation Clapboard Complete (Photo: Geo Davis)

The photo above is taken from the northwest of the barns, looking southwest toward the icehouse and carriage barn. Note that the clapboard installation is now complete on the west elevation of the icehouse. Congratulations to Supi and Calvin for crossing the west elevation and moving on to the east elevation.

West Elevation Clapboard Installation Complete (Photo: Geo Davis)

We’re still a couple of months shy of receiving our Marvin window delivery. It’s been a long, slow, process that started last August. But we’re more and more optimistic that we’ll be on target — or possibly even slightly ahead of schedule — when the windows arrive. For now you just have to imagine glass windows and doors and all of the polygons displaying ZIP System panels

Can you picture what does façade will look like early this summer? We can’t wait!

Loft East Elevation T&G Finished (Photo: Geo Davis)

The photograph above shows the east elevation inside the loft shortly after the tongue and groove nickel gap installation was complete. Matt started it yesterday, and he wrapped it up with Jarrett today.

Matt and Jarret Finished Loft Wall (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

What a day!

March 11, 2023
Tongue and Groove Nickel Gap Installation Begins

Hurrah! As of today we’ve begun installing tongue and groove nickel gap (aka “nickel gap” T&G) in the icehouse loft.

Installing tongue and groove nickel gap in the icehouse loft (Photo: Geo Davis)

Kudos to Matt Sayward for initiating tongue and groove nickel gap installation in the icehouse today. With Peter Vaiciulis guiding (and weeks’ worth of prepping, priming, and painting the paneling almost complete) we’ve launched a new chapter in our rehabilitation project. An exciting and long anticipated chapter because it marks the metaphorical skinning in of the preparatory work — sooo much structural and mechanical accomplishment — underpinning the transformation of Rosslyn’s late 1800s icehouse into a 21st century work+play hub.

Tongue and Groove vs Shiplap

Why did we decide to install tongue and groove nickel gap paneling inside the icehouse instead of shiplap as originally envisioned?

Credit goes first and foremost to Eric Crowningshield whose team collaborated on many, many, many linear feet of shiplap during the ADK Oasis Lakeside renovation, a couple of years ago. He encouraged us to consider switching to tongue and groove instead. By milling the paneling with a nickel gap, the finished results are indistinguishable from shiplap but the installation process is improved (and I believe that the structural integrity is also superior.)

In many respects, Matt took the lead installing the paneling on that project as well, so it’s feels fitting to witness him inaugurating this new chapter today. and the results are handsome. I’m looking forward to another day’s progress tomorrow.

Brushed vs Rolled Finish

In related news, Pam salvaged, four cut-offs from Matt’s work to experiment with re-painting solutions to the problem I broached yesterday. One cutting was preserved, as-is with the dimpled (i.e. orange peel) finish resulting from roller nap. The other samples received three different applications: a third coat with stiff bristle brush, a fourth coat with stiff bristle brush, and a preliminary sanding followed by a third coat with stiff bristle brush.

Although my photo failed to capture the textural differences, applying two additional brushed coats of Benjamin Moore White Dove (OC-17) made a significant improvement. So once Matt finishes installing the tongue and groove nickel gap on the east wall of the loft, we will apply to additional coats. Hoping it will look great!

March 10, 2023
Beyond Brook Bushwhack

A chilly afternoon warmed with laughter while bushwhacking on snowshoes, today Susan, Denise and John Davis, and I ventured into Rosslyn’s westernmost woods to trailblaze a new loop through a maturing pine forest located between Library Brook, the Essex Firehouse, and Essex Farm.

Library Brook (Photo: Geo Davis)

Long anticipated, this remote route will extend and diversify our existing trail system through the Library Brook drainage and into an older tree stand with a drier understory and a tranquil atmosphere. So close to the heart of downtown Essex, this peaceful place feels like a secret oasis.

Library Brook Ice Crystals (Photo: Geo Davis)

Two anticipated stream crossings offer meditative glimpses of meandering Library Brook that promise to be just as breathtaking in winter as summer. Lush with wildlife, this riparian corridor will likely permit plenty of intriguing wildlife photography in years to come.

Tree Hugging Bushwhacker (Photo: Geo Davis)

Higher ground along the western flank of Rosslyn’s backland includes some dramatic pine trees including the handsome specimen being embraced in the photo above by our friend and affectionate wildlife steward, John Davis. Lots of love in these woods!

I’m hoping to fine tune today’s preliminary foray over the next couple of weeks while the ground is still frozen and snow covered. By spring the loop should be finalized, and we can begin to prioritize the stream crossings. I look forward to updating you soon.

March 7, 2023

Moonrise in March

Startled by the sight
of lunar liftoff
I slip-slide on ice,
reel, rebalance, and
then I remember:
a full moon rising
tomorrow, tonight
penultimate night
of winter’s waxing.

The March moon shimmers
on unfrozen lake,
saluting springtime’s
assured/unassured
arrival two weeks —
per the oracles,
a frosty fortnight
of whiplash weather —
from this Monday eve.

March 6, 2023

Perspective vs. Nostalgia

Barns, March 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)

I am not quite sure where I belong but I have always been engaged with where I am. I like to think this gives me both a resistance to nostalgia and a breadth of perspective but I could be wrong. — Edward Relph (Source: Placeness.com)

Much thinking these end-of-February, beginning-of-March days on seasonality and sense of belonging, on perspective — especially evolving perspectives — and nostalgia, sentimentality, wistful-if-illusory longing.

This icehouse rehab, moving closer and closer to the vision that has beckoned for years, and the snowfall after snowfall after snowfall, such welcome gifts after a fairly light winter. These absorbing present tense plots are playing out against almost eighteen years of Rosslyn custodianship.

Twin Tracks & Tranquility, March 2023 (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)

Cross-country outings transporting me deep into memories that Susan and I made during our first winters together more than two decades ago. And deeper still, recollections of skiing as a child in the mid 1970s, with my younger brother and sister, with my mother.

I’m learning something about perspective and nostalgia. Something still coalescing.

March 5, 2023
Saturday Snow Day

Susan Skiing Through Saturday Snow Day (Photo: Geo Davis)

No progress on the icehouse project today. None. By design. And by the benevolence of mother nature. Today we celebrated a Saturday snow day!

Carley and Geo on Saturday Snow Day (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)

Although Saturdays and Sundays are usually rest days for most people, our amazing team has worked through weekends and days-off for months in order to ensure forward motion seven days a week (with very few exceptions and holidays and extreme weather days) ever since this project got off the ground last fall. But today was a planned pause. To reboot. And to accommodate a major March blizzard.

Carley at Library Brook on Snow Day (Photo: Geo Davis)

So I share with you a few snapshots from a day that was snowing when we awoke and that’s still snowing as we head off to dinner.

Carley on Saturday Snow Day (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)

These first photos were taken during our late morning cross-country ski outing through Rosslyn’s back fields and forest. Overcast, snowy wonderland. These last two photos were taken earlier, easing into the snowy morning with Carley, Mud/WTR in hand, observing our avian neighbors breakfasting.

Cardinals on Snow Day (Photo: Geo Davis)

Although primarily intended for songbirds, Rosslyn’s bird feeders also welcome enthusiastic opportunists like the mallards.

Mallards on Snow Day (Photo: Geo Davis)

March 4, 2023
Genre Fluid

Today I offer you a quick follow-up to my February 4, 2023 post, “Genre Resistance“. In diving a little deeper into the genre fluidity of Rosslyn Redux (in general) and redacting Rosslyn in particular, I hope to dilate the creative quandary and exploratory process.

But first, a couple of asides.

Nude with Yellow Backdrop by Paul Rossi (Photo: Geo Davis)

First, yes, you read that correctly. Genre fluid. Not gender fluid. But… I couldn’t resist the temptation to include the painting by artist, Paul Rossi. It hangs in our front parlor (aka the “green room”) adjacent to a painting we purchased in Kenya in 2005 shortly before we were wed in a traditional Maasai ceremony. More on that elsewhere. But the nude against yellow backdrop (one of several Rossi paintings, illustrations, and linocuts we’re fortunate to own) was at once appropriate and inappropriate for this post. And the similarity between genre and gender fluidity was the inevitable trigger. Looong story short, Susan fell for this painting the moment she saw it in Paul’s Wadhams studio a dozen or more years ago. Had to have it. And so home it came. But the next morning, while coffee-ing up in the morning, if memory serves, she suddenly remarked that the female figure was endowed with a phallus! Actually, that’s not exactly what she said, but that was the gist. She still loved the painting, but she’s never been able to “un-see” the appendage (the subject’s hand and wrist) as anything other than, well, let’s call it a gender blending silhouette.

Now, for the second aside. If you landed here looking for music that bridges more than one classification, I’m sorry to disappoint, but this is your exit ramp. Thanks for stopping by, and safe travels!

I’m well aware that the term “genre fluid” has been adopted primarily to describe the unboxing of music categories, the wide ranging appetites that many/most of us have when it comes to our musical listening preferences, and even the hybridization across conventional genres that accurately describes a great deal of the most innovative music being performed. In fact one would be hard pressed to quickly dig up any non-music references online to “genre fluid” without some headlamp-on spelunking into the bowels of the interwebs.

Paintings in Front Parlor (Photo: Geo Davis)

But today I’d like to post a gentle challenge to the mainstream music-centric understanding of genre fluidity. Specifically I’d like to steer you toward a broader, more inclusive notion of art, literature, and music that defies conventional segregation. I’m referencing creative arts unconfined by convention and convenience, free range arts that occupy liminal spaces, interstitial inventions, and hybrid genres that redefine expectations and experiences.

Let’s alight briefly here:

Genre Fluid: appreciating several different genres. Most commonly applied to music, but can also refer to films, games or any other media. (Source: Urban Dictionary)

And here:

I probably mean this in the most manifesto-ing way that genres don’t exist. They don’t exist at all… Genres for me are just a way in which we are controlled, protected I suppose but I’m not a writer to be protected at all. — Eileen Myles (Source: The New Inquiry)

We all recognize genre distinctions. They’ve been trained into since childhood. But does that make them important? Conclusive? Binding? Beneficial? Or just familiar?

So how does this notion of genre fluid composition relate to Rosslyn? I’ll sidestep the obvious architectural and design implications (which, incidentally, are spot on!) for now and restrain this reflection to writing.

August 2022 marked my return to the challenge of *redacting Rosslyn* out of sprawling scrapbooks, flaneurial field notes, poetry and storytelling, lyric essays, monologues, and an avalanche of artifacts.

[…]

Ostensibly a memoir in trajectory and scope, this idiosyncratic experiment… [is] an amalgam… that bridges and blurs genres, that gathers heterogeneous ingredients and collages them… in interstitial narrative, allowing the wholeness to emerge out of the fragments, not altogether unlike a mosaic. Or a montage. Or a sculpture… The space in-between the fragments becomes as important as the fragments themselves.

This experiment in genre fluidity is second nature, and I suspect that some readers may find it slightly vexing. Undisciplined and disjointed. Fair criticism, I should note. But a compelling component of the creative process at this germinal stage. No, not just compelling. Enabling. Empowering. Generative.

I don’t find it interesting to stay in my lane, to observe the rules of the road, etc. Blogging for me has been an opportunity… [to] play around and experiment and defy expectations and overlap genres and distort genres per the whims or needs of my moment, my message. And this doesn’t just go for word salad. It’s a visual salad too. A library, stage, and interactive interactive gallery. And more. Lately I’ve been experimenting with video. With audio. Experimenting. Exploring. No rules.

This freedom to share our Rosslyn adventure per my mesmerizing muse, uninhibited, unbound, has been an exhilarating and liberating counterpoint to the often rigid structure, rules, and traditions that guided our historic rehabilitation. Untethered. Whimsical. Freestyle. (Source: Genre Resistance)

Does this make it right? It’s too early to say, at least in any sweeping and conclusive way. But it has been vital to my creative process. Hybridization and fusion and cross pollination are — have always been — exhilarating and attractive to me. Mix. Remix. Repeat…

Thank you for abiding my appetite for curiosity and experimentation!

March 3, 2023
Ciphering on Icehouse Coving

Let’s start with ciphering (before introducing my current coving challenge). I first heard the term “ciphering” used to describe job site problematizing, brainstorming, and generally massaging construction plans into completed carpentry in 2005 when we were renovating the Lapine House. From a linguistic perspective, the idea of describing the process of analyzing plans, troubleshooting an action plan, and navigating the inevitable impediments as “ciphering” fascinated me. Not deciphering. Not decrypting. This was one of the first times I perplexed our contractors with my inquisitiveness about terminology. Not the last.

Ciphering on Icehouse Coving. (Source: Geo Davis)

Okay, with that abbreviated “ciphering” backstory (thorough explanation for use of the term never really developed) introducing this post, let’s move on to the icehouse coving — actually a cove lighting/molding integration that’s still evolving — that needs to progress from planning to installation soon.

During my recent on-site meetings with the team I discussed a specific twist that needs resolving in order to move forward with coving construction (and tie-rod fabrication). There are ledgers along the north wall and south wall top plates that were installed in 2006 as part of our roof rebuild. All of the rafters land on these ledgers. The rebuilt roof is robust in part because of this interesting workaround, but it creates a 1-1/2” step near the top of the wall that introduces an impediment (or possibly a benefit) for coving construction. Basically, our construction plan (A402, detail 4) does not account for this plane discrepancy. I’m endeavoring to integrate the step structurally into the cove construction. Although this structural element creates an added challenge, I actually think that it might contribute to a pragmatic solution.

Ciphering on Icehouse Coving. (Source: Geo Davis)

I had created a hasty sketch when I met met with the team in order to illustrate what I was envisioning. A couple of days on site to refresh my memory on the field conditions has inevitably evolved my thinking. These new concepts offer further progress. I think I’m *almost* there.

I circulated these quick sketches to [hopefully] inspire a free flow of ideas so that we can zero in on an optimal plan. My idea doesn’t (yet) integrate electrical, focusing just on structural and finish integration. Stay tuned…

February 21, 2023
Harvesting Ice
Harvesting Ice

Today the sun came out, the temperature rose, and the snow began to melt. With work progressing in the icehouse my mind drifted to the days when this building would have been bustling with activity, teams of horses hauling loads of ice from the lake for storage. I imagined the bittersweet emotions that must have surfaced on a day like today. The promise of spring. But ice melting almost as quickly as it was cut, provoking anxiety over whether or not sufficient ice would but cut and stores before temperate weather put a seasonal end to harvesting ice.

Harvesting Ice

Harvesting Ice Haiku
```
Winter lake cropping —
horses, neighbors, and laughter —
summer refreshment. 
```
Harvesting Ice

Prior to the nineteenth century, ice harvesting was a local and small time operation… January or February was considered the best month for harvesting. Often communities or groups of farm families would work cooperatively, dividing the “crop” proportionally. In addition to hard work, the “icing” was a social occasion and opportunity for locals to pass gossip and news. (Source: New York Almanack)

Ice Harvesting Photos

These photographs are part of a newly acquired collection of historic reenactment documents that will be framed and displayed in Rosslyn’s icehouse when rehab is complete. More details soon…
March 1, 2023
Cross-Country Skiing

What is the cross-country skiing equivalent of schussing down a powdery piste? If it exists — some etymologically Nordic, onomatopoeicly swooshy reference for scissoring smoothly across a snowy meadow or through a snowy forrest — I could sneak it into today’s outing. But I’d be waxing poetic. Projecting fantasy onto a considerably stickier cross-country skiing experience.

Cross-Country Skiing Library Brook Trail (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)

Don’t get me wrong. Venturing out into Rosslyn’s backland with Susan this afternoon for some slippery sliding and gliding was the perfect reentry. Especially on a Monday. Decadent!

Cross-Country Skiing Beaver Meadow (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)

But the new fallen snow was far from powdery. Perfect snowball weather. But the only snowballs we’re those clinging to Carley’s undercarriage as she raced across fields investigating animal tracks. The temperate was week above freezing which made for a highly agreeable jaunt, but the snow adhered to the bottoms of our skis, clumping, slowing out progress.

Carley Criss-Crossing Ski Tracks (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)

Sticky snow. Overcast skies. And yet it was perfect. My bride, my dog, and time taken to tour Rosslyn’s wilder side while cross-country skiing. Perfection!

Cross-Country Skiing (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)

February 27, 2023