I’ve lived much, perhaps even *most* of my life in old houses. With the exception of late middle and high school, 3/4 of college, briefly in Santa Fe (1996-9), and briefly in Paris and Rome, my homes have been within old houses. And, come to think of it, some of my boarding school years were in old homes too. And yet each new home was revitalized — and revitalizing — when it became my personal (or familial) residential oasis. Old house, new home.
Hyde Gate, Essex, New York (Illustration by Kate Boesser for All My Houses, By Sally Lesh)
With Rosslyn becoming our place of residence, starting in 2006 and fully by 2008, this old house, new home combination took on new levels of significance. The oldness of the house wasn’t just evident in the architecture and design, the building materials and dated/failing mechanicals, and the time-earned gravity that many enduring old buildings exude. All of these were in evidence with Rosslyn, for sure. But there was something more.
Rosslyn’s history included a notable human legacy: lives lived and recorded; stories told and retold; images made, circulated, and collected. Rosslyn’s backstory as a prominent presence along Merchants Row; built by one of the two founding families in Essex; plus the iconic boathouse attracting the eyes of generations of photographers, artists, travelers; the years spent as a local enterprise (restaurant and watering hole, vacation accommodation, and boating regatta hub); and well documented home and preservation subject of George McNulty who helped catalyze Essex’s recognition in the historic register;… Rosslyn was an old house, new home with an outsized history. This was new to Susan and me.
The questions. The advice. The judgement. The memories and stories and artifacts. The responsibility. The stewardship. The pride… It’s been an adjustment. A learning curve. A deeply formative journey. A privilege.
Once upon a time this handsome old house became our new home, and along with it almost two hundred years of backstory, lives, styles, and lifestyles. I try to gather into a basket or a tapestry, a moving picture or a singalong, the colorful threads, the adventures, and the text textured tunes.
Clearing Out Historic Icehouse (Source: R.P. Murphy)
Sixteen years after plunging into renovating Rosslyn we are… finally tackling the looong postponed icehouse rehabilitation. Sweet sixteen. (Source: Redacting Rosslyn v2.0 – Rosslyn Redux)
In the image above you can see a notable improvement from previous images of the interior of Rosslyn’s historic icehouse. This underutilized outbuilding had become a storage space in the 15-16 years since it was saved from inelegant rot and collapse. Over the last few days the icehouse is being purged by Pam and Tony so that we may at last begin rehabilitation and repurposing.
We entirely gutted the building in 2006 in order to structurally salvage the building. The northern and sorter facades had bowed at as the roof collapsed. The term used by the contractors at the time was “corn cribbing”. Once gutted, the north and south walls were gradually pulled back together over many months a little bit at a time, gradually restoring the structural integrity of the building so that new roof rafters could be milled and installed. That is what you see again today. But over the years the icehouse had become a lumber, architectural salvage, and woodworking space, gradually filling up so full that it was scarcely possibly to move around inside. That was still the case when the engineers from Engineering Ventures made a recent site visit.
Engineering the Icehouse (Source: Geo Davis)
Engineering the Icehouse (Source: Geo Davis)
I’d guess that there’s still about a day of decluttering and organizing before the historic icehouse is once again stripped bare and ready for the next phase of rehabilitation. All of the materials that were removed have been inventoried and relocated to the carriage barn and the new storage container we’ve rented for the duration of the project. Hhhmmm… I forgot to document that. Not fascinating, nor savory eye candy, but I’ll account for the extra storage area we decided to add into the mix to facilitate job site organization, especially when gentle autumn yields to blustery winter. Now, with many of our existing building materials inventoried we can begin to organize a repurposing strategy. That’s right, baked into our recipe for transforming this historic icehouse into a flex workspace, studio, and outdoor entertaining annex is an ambitious vision of creatively reusing and repurposing a decade and a half of leftover building materials, architectural salvage, and lumber grown, felled, milled, and cured on site. I’ll articulate my admittedly romantic vision for how all of this stuff will be reimagined into a charming addition to Rosslyn’s menagerie of old buildings.
For now, I’d like to celebrate the small victory of restoring Rosslyn’s historic outhouse to its metaphorical bones so that we can begin to prepare the interior for footings and crawlspace slab. Cheers to Tony and Pam for tackling the essential but unenviable task of cleaning [ice]house! Thank you.
It’s going to be an inspiring few months of creative reimaginination, collegial collaboration, and transformation as this handsome historic icehouse gets the loving attention of our rehabilitation dream team. I’ll be introducing the entire cast of characters in the weeks and months ahead, and you’ll have an opportunity to witness up close and personal an historic rehab effectively reinventing a 19th century utility building into a 21st century utility building. This unique collaboration aims not only to repurpose a no longer relevant purpose-built structure into a contemporaneously relevant, utilitarian addition to this remarkable property, but also to reimagine the discarded detritus, the sometimes-elegant-sometimes-eccentric artifacts, and homegrown lumber, the byproduct of reopening the long neglected meadows west of Rosslyn’s buildings. We’ll include you in the rehab to the extent viable, and we’ll enthusiastically consider all recommendations, advice, and ideas. Thanks in advance.
Mixed Species Flooring Experiment: character beech and jatoba, a.k.a. Brazilian cherry (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Repurposing Rosslyn’s icehouse is an ambitious project within a diminutive space. On the one hand, it’s an historic rehabilitation of an obsolescent utility building into a home office/studio with lifestyle perks like a hot tub and firepit. It’s also an experiment in adaptive reuse: reinventing this no-longer functionally relevant building with materials cherry picked from 17+ years of architectural salvage, surplus building materials from several renovations, and a a carriage barn full of lumber harvested, milled, and cured on site from a decade and a half of restoration work in Rosslyn’s fields and forests. There are even a couple of personal objectives woven into the present project, but I’ll hem them in for now do that I can reflect on the mixed species flooring photographed above and below.
You’re looking at two different hardwood species in these flooring samples: beech (this batch has been selected for its “character”, patterned grain) and jatoba (a.k.a. Brazilian cherry). Both of these are surplus remaining from our 2006-9 rehab of the house, and either/both of them *might* find their way into the icehouse. I’ll explain more in due course, but today I’d like to narrow our focus to our preliminary “research”, experimentation with enough whimsy and creative license that it almost feels like playing around.
I’m referring to a sort of exploratory brainstorming, decidedly unscientific experimentation but curiosity-fueled artistic experimentation. The question we’ve begun to explore is what might be possible if we combined dissimilar wood species in the same floor? Could the beechwood and the jatoba hardwood flooring merge into an appealing design element? Would this experiment in combinatorial creativity contribute meaningfully to a unique, cohesive design?
Wondering and wandering into this experiment was made possible by Pam and Tony who pulled stock from storage, arranged patterns playfully, and sent me the photographs to ponder. And while there’s still plenty of experimentation ahead in this little mixed species flooring experiment, the creative cogs have begun to spin…
Sometimes the singing underneath surfaces in a timely manner. Good fortune allows the insights of Kathleen Kralowec to help answer this question. All of the following excerpts are drawn from her article, a wise wander that opens as if I’d written it myself.
This article, I warn you, is itself an experiment: a conscious act of wandering.
Kathleen Kralowec, “Why Artists Must Experiment” (Source: Medium)
Let’s wander a bit with Kralowec.
Recognizing an act as an experiment releases it from a lot of… demands of perfection. The outcome of experimentation is knowledge, and failure is just as valuable as success, because one has expanded one’s awareness of one’s own abilities, one’s deeper ideas, the potential of a media, a process, a genre, an art-form.
And so we play with beech and jatoba, experimenting and exploring, yielding to our curiosity, risking failure, but also possibly failing our way toward success.
Flooring Experiment: character beech (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Artists must experiment in order to find their way… because there is no other road-map, no other way to discover how best to navigate…
As creatives we must grow comfortable with the prospect of forging our own way, navigating by trial-and-error. Kralowec goes on to propose the notion of a creative/artistic studio as a laboratory. Experimentation — and this encompasses failures as well as success — is fundamental to the creative process. And so Pam and Tony and I plunge headfirst into our laboratory, experimenting, mapping the unknown.
Practice, or rehearsal, is meant to increase precision on an existing pattern of action. Experimentation takes us outside those repetitions, to unexplored territory, untried actions… Experiment is an open door, an invitation to do things that might not work, and its necessary for what we may as well call innovation in the arts.
Jettisoning the familiar patterns, the customary solutions, and the “right way” is liberating, and sometimes a little unnerving. Welcome to the wilderness!
Experimentation allows one to explore the wilderness of one’s own talent and the wilderness of one’s own mind… Sometimes one must let go, enter into the experimental space, give oneself that permission to stumble, in order to advance to the next stage.
Mixed Species Flooring Experiment: character beech and jatoba, a.k.a. Brazilian cherry (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
And stumble, we will. Stumble, I do. Often. But every once in a while, wandering in this metaphorical wilderness of experimentation, we discover something singular, something remarkable.
Extending Kralowec’s notion of art studio as experimental laboratory to our creative practice(s) in general, then it’s incumbent upon us to untether from the familiar, the tried and true, the already discovered, in order to wonder and wander uninhibited, in order to explore and experiment without prejudice and confining assumptions. Not always, of course. And we must be willing to fail. Often. It is this vulnerability combined with curiosity, and with the courage to challenge our constraints and catalyze that curiosity through experimentation into the possibility of discovery.
At this stage we’re still early in our experimentation. Discovery is still eluding us. But our curiosity and our carefree experimentation are raring to go!
https://www.instagram.com/p/CmFsG48OEa4/
Now that we’ve experimented with the beech and jatoba flooring in their raw, unaltered state I have a couple of follow-on experiments I’m hoping to run. Stay tuned!
Hroth sent me the photograph above so that we could troubleshoot some subtle details for the old/new icehouse entrance and the relationship between the door and the still-to-come exterior landing. I think we’re 99% in sync, but we’ll hash out the details tomorrow so that we’re 100% in sync. In the meantime, I’m enchanted with this photo. The significant evidence of progress toward a new chapter in the life of Rosslyn’s icehouse. The new floor visible within. The shadowed but perceptible interior framing for windows and doors on the far western elevation. A through-view of the area west of the icehouse where lie the gardens and orchard, and where — on a less overcast day — the sun will set into Boquet Mountain a few tree lines beyond Rosslyn’s meadows and woods…
Entrancing Icehouse Entrance
Ever since 2006 when we removed the existing windows and closed up the gaping openings on the north and south elevations of the icehouse in order to re-stabilize the structural integrity of the building, this handsome edifice has been a shrouded utility building primarily employed for off-season storage of deck furniture, hammock stands, unused building materials, and almost decades’ worth of architectural salvage.
But the vision illuminating our rehab project is of a light filled space, a delicate balance between the finite volume of such a small structure and the uninhibited openness of vaulted ceilings and generous fenestration. Rosslyn’s icehouse is mid-journey between dark and constrained to light and open. It’s a transformation from merely functional to inviting, inspirational, invigorating, and multifunctional. A tall order? Perhaps. But the photo above suggests to me that we’re heading in the right direction.
Phoenix Rising: A Haiku
Auburn and umber, where embers are memories, phoenix from ashes. — Geo Davis
This micropoem draws upon the hues of the nearly century and a half old building, naked without siding, textured with time. And it associates these with earthen pigments and with the fading signs of fire. Ashes. Memories. On the one hand this photograph captures a moment on the quest for redemption. Rebirth as a new sort of utility building, relevant in the 21st century as opposed to an icehouse no longer fulfilling its original need. On the other hand, this photograph, as a tiny puzzle piece in my ongoing conversation and collaboration with Hroth, alludes to his still recent, still raw firsthand experience with the Calf Canyon/Hermit’s Peak blaze, the largest wildfire in New Mexico history.
Rising from the Ashes
I detect the energy of this post getting away from me. I intended to reflect briefly on Hroth’s photo, an aperture into the icehouse itself and into the vision for its future. But I feel the mounting wind pulling free the threads of my narrative. The focus is scattered and the motif is blurring.
A more entangled tale is untucking itself, fluttering and flapping, vying for attention. I understand that I can’t contain it forever, but I’d like — a little longer, at least — to discipline my post, my posts to march in a phalanx toward, well, toward the moment of truth. Or unraveling. Or arrival. Or departure.
I feel the azure dome spinning overhead, and the earth below. I realize I’ve been restraining this mythological force for months, for years. It surfaces and I acknowledge it, but then hasten on. Like a hummingbird or a butterfly lighting brightly, then buzzing on, fluttering on.
Here, for example.
Sometimes setbacks are actually the inspiration to regroup, reboot, and outperform original expectations. Sometimes fiasco fans the fires of triumph. Sometimes the phoenix rises from the ashes.
While our carpenter fiasco of the previous year might be summed up as a run-of-the-mill “crash and burn” story, this summer’s refreshing sequel was a quintessential “phoenix rising” story of mythic proportions.
Two fleeting mentions. And then this less oblique reference.
I’m hoping to eventually persuade Hroth Ottosen to share his very personal decision to roadtrip east from Santa Fe… after the 2022 catastrophic wildfire season that ravaged the southwest… Hroth reminds us that it is possible to emerge from calamitous circumstances braver, wiser, stronger, and freer than we were beforehand… Like I’ve already suggested, a phoenix rising from the ashes!
But now I’ll abbreviate this reference to Hroth, as the story is his to tell, if and when he’s ready. Instead let’s bring some semblance of closure to this curious clutch of field notes.
What Does Phoenix Rising Mean?
Without further muddling the message, I’ll step back and offer a sounder source.
To rise like a phoenix from the ashes means to emerge from a catastrophe stronger, smarter and more powerful. An example of rising like a phoenix from the ashes is someone who opens a new, successful business after his previous business has failed. Another example is someone who builds a new house after his previous house has been destroyed in a tornado.
Familiar? Here’s a look into the mythological origins of this familiar “born again” story.
The phoenix bird is a mythical bird from Greek mythology. It was a feathered creature of great size with talons and wings, its plumage radiant and beautiful. The phoenix lived for 500 years before it built its own funeral pyre, burst into flame, and died, consumed in its own fiery inferno. Soon after, the mythical creature rose out of the ashes, in a transformation from death to life…
Ingredients for Christmas Turkey Dressing (Photo: Geo Davis)
Last night, I enjoyed Christmas dinner, the sequel. No, not the movie. The leftovers. Leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, roasted, butternut squash, all smothered under her blanket of gravy. And for dessert, pumpkin pie, and pecan pie.
And, as you may have predicted, it was delicious. Perhaps even more delicious than the first go round. Have you ever noticed that some meals just taste better the second time around? Hold that thought…
And note that I didn’t mention leftover turkey dressing / stuffing. There’s still plenty of that, but I’m one-and-done with stuffing. I enjoy making it, but after an initial scoop (and a small scoop at that) on Thanksgiving and Christmas, I’m on the the tastier dishes. It’s too filling. Too heavy. Too, well, just less appealing to me, even when drowning in gravy.
Ingredients for Christmas Turkey Dressing (Photo: Geo Davis)
Leftovers
This post is brought to you by leftovers. Yes, the ones crammed into your refrigerator right now. But not just those. Let’s expand our thinking beyond food. I imagine you have all sorts of remainders and vestigial scraps tucked into the nooks and crannies of your home. Junk drawers, closets, garage,… I’m thinking about all of those items (I’ll stick with “items” for now, but fair warning that I’ll soon ask you to consider them “ingredients”) that you could have thrown away but didn’t because you suspected that you’d be able to use them again in the future.
You with me?
Don’t worry, I’m not going to show you photographs of the two ingredients above as they after becoming turning dressing, after being served on Christmas, after getting scooped into a glass container, and after spending some time in the refrigerator. Sure, the turkey dressing is still edible, but it’s decidedly less photogenic at this stage.
But last night while feasting on our Christmas dinner sequel I got to wondering why the leftovers tasted better during their debut. It’s different than stew and soup and even some pasta dishes, all of which seem to hit their stride only after they’ve had some time to rest a while. And maybe it has something to do with the fact that my first experience with this meal followed a morning-until-late-afternoon cooking frenzy. Whereas last night I simply sat down and devoured the goodness.
Leftovers as Ingredients (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Ingredients
This post is *also* brought to you by ingredients. Yes, like the fresh celery and onions above, we joyfully imagine crisp, colorful ingredients bursting with flavor. But poking through the fridge, pushing aside containered leftovers, wondering what in the world to eat, we get a different feeling. Less joyful. More resigned. But sometimes, last night’s dinner for example, we are surprised when we embrace the sequel.
Sometimes we get creative and reimagine the leftovers, decide to experiment with different combinations, different preparations. We cease to think of the leftovers as unfinished extras from the first meal, and we repurpose them as the ingredients for a brand new creation. Remember corn cakes and turkey gravy? Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t.
While overeating Christmas dinner for the second time it struck me how similar edible leftovers and building materials can be. Think of surplus lumber and architectural salvage. They get pushed to the back of the proverbial fridge (in our case, usually one of the outbuildings) in the hopes of one day becoming the ingredients for something relevant and exciting and new.
Leftovers as Ingredients (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Leftovers as Ingredients
You see where I’m going with this?
I’ve repeatedly mentioned that the icehouse rehabilitation is an adaptive reuse project. Transform an obsolete utility building into a useful, relevant multi-use space that adds value to our life at Rosslyn. And, in addition to repurposing this handsome historic building, we have endeavored to repurpose as many surplus building materials and architectural salvage artifacts as reasonable (i.e. functionally and aesthetically viable) in the design and rehabilitation process.
I’ve talked about the repurposed columns and the loft flooring experiment, and I recently celebrated the upcycled coatrack and the antique ice hook (which will be displayed prominently as decor once rehab is complete). I’ve post a couple of updates on our “research” into upcycling garapa decking and re-milling our homegrown lumber into flooring (and other interior millwork). In the weeks and months ahead much of Hroth and Pam’s focus will shift indoors, and I’ll be relating additional opportunities that we’re exploring for repurposing our building leftovers as the raw ingredients for a brand new working and relaxing space that will fuse more than a century’s ingenuity and artifacts into an integrated, cohesive (and hopefully beautiful+charming) space.
As we journey through the icehouse rehabilitation, endeavoring to create relevance and value for leftovers while ensuring that the final result achieves these lofty aspirations of functional and aesthetic integration, cohesion, and attractiveness, brainstorming and collaboration become more and more important. And more and more enjoyable! With such a diverse cast of contributors, I’m hoping that we’ll cross pollinate and evolve ideas that none of us individually would have come up with. Co-creation is sure to conjure out-of-the-box ideas and original solutions that draw upon the diversity of experiences and passions and perspectives. So, please consider this an open invitation to share your suggestions!
Icehouse v2.0: Looking east toward future loft inside the icehouse while fine tuning remodel proposal for the Town of Essex Planning Board. (Source: Geo Davis)
At long last it’s time to move forward with Rosslyn’s icehouse v2.0 which I’ve been alluding to for a couple of months (including in the July 2 Instagram photo of icehouse interior above.) If this is your first sneak peek inside the icehouse, rest assured that the project is still percolating. When the sweet siren songs of reimagination, rehabilitation, and repurposing merge into a mellifluous melody, I’ve learned to slow down and listen…
In the weeks and months ahead I’ll share with you the reason(s) and vision for this project as well as the cast of characters and the plan. I’m hoping to take you inside this rehabilitation project, joining the team who will transform a 19th century utility building (purpose built to store ice and preserve food) into a 21st century utility building (repurposed as a flexible studio, office, meeting, and entertaining space.) Although the icehouse won’t become the “game room” we once imagined, it will share some overlaps with that early vision.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start in our early days at Rosslyn.
Icehouse v1.0
In 2006/7 during rehabilitation of our home, we began renovating Rosslyn’s circa 1889 icehouse (existing outbuilding located north of existing carriage barn). Top priority was structural stabilization including remediating a collapsing roof and “corn cribbing” of north and south walls by removing most windows to improve structural integrity and simplify reframing and drawing walls back together with cables. The existing stone foundation was repaired and repointed, and roof was rebuilt from within with rough hewn hemlock beams that we had milled locally complement the existing structure. A standing seam steel roof was installed to match our home and carriage barn, and the existing mechanicals were upgraded in conjunction with the other buildings. New electrical supply and subpanel, water supply, propane gas, and septic system were installed and inspected in 2006/7.
And then, the icehouse rehab stalled. Indefinitely.
We mothballed the project, deferring the next phase indefinitely until circumstances warranted moving forward. (Source: Demolition Dedux)
Until recently, circumstances distracted us, and time whistled past without returning to the question of whether or not (and how and when and why) to tackle the conversion of this unique outbuilding.
But the spring of 2020, coronavirus quarantining at Rosslyn, Susan and I spent many afternoons and evenings next to a fire pit just northwest of the icehouse enjoying the sunsets. We’d never really done this before. And it got us thinking…
Reimagination, Repurposing, Rehabilitation
I recount this curious time in other posts, but for now I’ll simply acknowledge that the early weeks and months of the pandemic allowed for a long overdue pause, an extended period of introspection. We were profoundly grateful to be able to quarantine at Rosslyn. It was truly an oasis in many respects. And this time of sequestration and slowing down and introspection opened up lots of interesting conversations.
Long story short, we began to reimagine the icehouse rehab as a slightly different sort of conversion than we’d originally imagined. For one thing, the western views in the afternoon through early evening were spectacular and distinct from one we associate with the property. We became slightly obsessed. And so we pondered ideas for some outside living space, a fire pit, a deck, maybe even a hot tub?
What if we repurposed this outbuilding to meet several of the needs not present in our home? What if the work-from-home model meant embracing the notion of a highly effective dedicated workspace but that could also double as an outdoor, socially distanced socializing hub?
As we courted the siren song our imaginations ran wild. And two years later we’re finally ready to focus the vision and get started.
Icehouse v2.0
We are at last planning to complete the rehabilitation of the ice house, adapting it from a workshop and storage space to a studio office and workshop. Minimalist open plan but integrating a full bath including shower (and possibly a hot tub on exterior deck) creates a threefold benefit: on-site restroom for workspace; a post-swim and soak restroom for visiting friends; and a restroom and wash area for gardening, etc.
Paramount in our plan is repurposing and recycling. We’re hoping to utilize sixteen years of architectural salvage, building materials, and on-property milled lumber to complete this project. I’ll try to document some of the materials we’ll be repurposing soon. And there will be some modern, non-repurposed accommodations as well including modern, energy efficient wood windows and doors that match the historic windows of the barn, foam insulation, and high efficiency mechanicals.
And because the eastern façade of this historic icehouse is visible from the road/sidewalk, we propose minimal alteration to this public viewshed. I’ll be posting some images soon.
Adaptive reuse has become an increasingly important principle for me in recent years. And one of the most ambitious (yet most critical) objectives for the icehouse rehabilitation project is repurposing surplus building materials and existing architectural salvage from previous projects; upcycling decking debris and other deconstruction byproducts from sixteen years of remodels and rehabs; and miscellaneous materials reclaimed from Rosslyn’s buildings, fields, and forests (such as a carriage barn full of cured ash, elm, and other lumber that was harvested, milled, and dried on-site.)
Hroth is continuing to experiment with the garapa decking we salvaged from our summer 2022 deck rebuild. I’m hoping to repurpose this honey toned Brazilian hardwood as paneling in the icehouse bathroom. Hroth has planed these boards down to 5/8” and the lumber is beginning to look really good. Maybe 1/2” will be perfect?
https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cj7Igsig6Uo/
In addition to milling off the grooved edges (originally used for securing hidden fasteners to deck substructure) and planing the boards down, the next step will be choosing a suitable joint between boards. I’ll share updates as we continue to explore upcycling the old garapa decking.
What the Heck is Upcycling?
Nowadays we throw around words like upcycling, recycling, repurposing, adaptive reuse, etc. without stopping to ensure that we all understand what these words even mean. Upcycle That, a (@upcyclethat), a website launched in 2012 to showcase upcycling ideas and inspiration, offers this clear and concise way to think of upcycling.
Upcycling is taking something that’s considered waste and repurposing it. The upcycled item often becomes more functional or beautiful than what it previously was. That’s why it’s called upcycling, because the value of the item is increased! (Source: Upcycle That)
Junk, debris, byproducts, and leftovers reimagined and transformed into valuable new items. That’s upcycling.
If this sounds a little bit like recycling, let’s turn to the Upcycle That team again for help clarifying the difference between upcycling and recycling.
Recycling and Upcycling have different processes. In the recycling process, items are broken down to be reused. Paper is shredded and turned into pulp, plastic is shredded and melted into pellets, glass is smashed and melted to be recast. This downcycling is an essential step in the recycling process, but it does degrade the value of the materials.
Upcycling is a creative process where waste is looked at as a resource. Materials are reused in a clever new way, giving them a second life and function. Think of a pallet coffee table. Upcycling transforms the pallet into a lovely piece of furniture. (Source: Upcycle That)
I would add to the downside of degrading the source materials another frequent cost of recycling: energy consumption. Not only can the act of recycling gradually diminish the quality of the paper, glass, plastic, etc., but the process(es) by which the down cycling takes place almost always consumes energy. By sidestepping the down cycle-step in recycling, upcycling reduces the need for energy consumption.
Energy Use to Upcycle Garapa
As a quick followup to this last question of energy consumption during the downcycling vs. upcycling processes, I should note that transforming our old garapa decking into a finish material for the icehouse bathhouse is not without its own energy inputs. As you can see in the video above, these boards are being passed through a wood planer and they’ve already had their sides trimmed on a table saw. So, electricity has been an inevitable input in order to transform what on another project might have been considered demolition debris into what on our icehouse project will become beautiful bathroom paneling.
Our first full workweek is in the rearview mirror, so Rosslyn’s icehouse rehabilitation is officially underway. No gold plated spade plunged into the earth, no glossy speeches, and no hoopla aside from a collective sigh of relief, some well earned rest today, and an antique ice hook. A what?!?! More about the ice hook in a moment.
Let the photo above be proof that clean-out and demo are now complete. It’s time to commemorate the ceremonial starting point for our long anticipated quest to rehabilitate Rosslyn’s historic utility building into a functionally relevant utility building for the 21st century. In the weeks ahead we’ll share the vision, introduce the team transforming this vision into reality, and invite you into the collaborative creative process.
Week 01 Recap
https://www.instagram.com/reel/CjcS50UA2nu/
The short videos above and below offer the best insight into progress and present conditions.
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Although last week was the first *official* foray into this project, it was made possible by several weeks of preliminary work completed by Pam and Tony (emptying the contents of the building, inventorying the architectural salvage and building materials that will be repurposed in this project, transporting and storing everything into the carriage barn and a rented storage container parked west of the barns for the duration of the project.) There’s always a lot more to launching a new construction project than expected, and ample credit is due to everyone — Pam, Hroth, Tony, Eric, Andrew, Justin — who successfully tackled the site prep. And behind the scenes, Tiho Dimitrov spent the week fine-tuning construction plans in conjunction with Thomas Weber who’s responsible for engineering the structural plan. All of these committed collaborators have gotten us to the starting gate.
The Ice Hook
I mentioned above an antique ice hook, and the photograph below illustrates exactly what I was referring to. Disinterred by Tony while cleaning out and grading the dirt floor of the icehouse, this badly corroded artifact bears an uncanny resemblsnce to a common tool of yesteryear: the handheld hook. This implement was most often used for 1) grabbing and hauling ice blocks and/or 2) carrying hay bales. The location where this relic was discovered (as well as plenty of examples uncovered by quick research online) strongly suggest that this is an antique ice hook. What do you think?
The term “green building” is moving steadily from fringe to mainstream, but its meaning is getting blurrier in the process. Sounds good on a brochure, but is it accurate? What does “green building” even mean?
Green building is the practice of increasing the efficiency with which buildings use resources — energy, water, and materials — while reducing building impacts on human health and the environment, through better siting, design, construction, operation, maintenance, and removal — the complete building life cycle.” (via Office of the Federal Environmental Executive, “The Federal Commitment to Green Building: Experiences and Expectations,” September 18, 2003)
That’s one of the most clear, compact and intelligent summaries I’ve seen in a while.
Here’s another effort to clarify the idea of “green building” from Green Harmony Home.
Efficiently using energy, water, and other resources
Protecting occupant health and improving employee productivity
Reducing waste, pollution and environmental degradation
I’ll continue to cast about for a more universal and straightforward definition of “green building” but this will provide a point of reference for now.
