Just over a week ago I posted a prologue to today’s garapa paneled bathroom update. I apologize if it felt a little half baked.
For just a little longer, I’ll keep you in suspense before I share photos of the now completed garapa installation. Remember, anticipation is half the pleasure! (Source: Garapa Paneled Bathroom, Pt. 1)
I wasn’t teasing out the update for the sake of suspense. I promise. And today’s post will hopefully offer some recompense for your patience. But there was a lot — a LOT — to pack into a single post, so I felt it more reasonable to subdivide it into a couple of installments.
I’m dividing this… update into two posts to fairly review and showcase a project that has taken the better part of a year from beginning to finish… (Source: Garapa Paneled Bathroom, Pt. 1)
Besides, I was about to head into the Gila Wilderness when Eric Crowningshield gave me the good news, and I simply couldn’t squeeze it all in before going off-line adventuring for a week sans connectivity, computer, etc.
But now it’s time to celebrate completion of the icehouse bathroom’s garapa paneling, to showcase the photos, and to sing praises for the carpenter behind this monumental accomplishment.
Eric Crowningshield Installing Garapa Paneling in Icehouse Bathroom (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Garapa Paneling the Bathroom
Upcycling Rosslyn’s deconstructed garapa decking into interior paneling has occupied many members of the icehouse rehab team for months. It’s been a challenge. Every. Single. Step. From demo’ing the old deck (while painstakingly deconstructing, selecting, and grading the most reusable and aesthetically pleasing garapa) to troubleshooting, iterating, and finally re-fabricating the decrepit, timeworn decking into elegant interior finish material, this upcycling endeavor has been an epic quest. And the exacting preparation demanded even more exacting installation.
Garapa Paneling Progress in Icehouse Bathroom (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Today we celebrate Eric’s conscientious carpentry and dogged determination, shepherding the garapa paneling to its exquisite completion! (It’s worth noting that Matt Sayward assisted in the early stages of installation, but Eric soon took ownership of the project to ensure 100% consistency.)
Garapa Paneling Progress in Icehouse Bathroom (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
The following excerpts and photos offer an interesting perspective as Eric worked through installation of the garapa paneling.
Garapa Paneling Progress in Icehouse Bathroom (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
It should go a little quicker now with the breaks in the runs [and] not needing to lineup 4 miters in one location. Nothing about this is easy but my gosh probably one of the most rewarding project thus far… — Eric Crowningshield
Garapa Paneling Progress in Icehouse Bathroom (Photo: Eric Crowningshield)
On the left side of this door it is 3-1/8” from the inside of the door jam to the tile. Do we not put garapa and run a 3” trim around the jam leaving a 1/8” reveal? On the other side we only have about 2”, so I’m guessing it may look odd with wider trim on the left and top. — Eric Crowningshield
The best way to handle the garapa around the door is difficult to determine from afar. My suggestion is that you and Peter look at it together and come up with the best solution. We have some asymmetry to deal with. Tricky. — Geo Davis
I’m going to put horizontal pieces on the left side before trim because the trim on the other side is around 1 3/4” so I think it would look better keeping the same size around the door. — Eric Crowningshield
Garapa Paneling Progress in Icehouse Bathroom (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
I went down tonight for a few hours and ripped some [garapa] down to the same width so the last 4 rows will be the same. Otherwise we were going to end up with a 1” or so piece around the ceiling. I put another row of that up so only 3 rows left. — Eric Crowningshield
How much did you have to takeoff of each of the boards for the last four courses? Or, better question, how different will they be from the rest of the words? — Geo Davis
About 3/8 of an inch. The boards I put up throughout the whole wall ranged from 4” down to 3-5/8” and a few at 3-1/2”. I had 13” left so I was doing 3-1/4” for the last 4 rows. — Eric Crowningshield
Garapa Paneling Progress in Icehouse Bathroom (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
It is completed!!! I love saying that. — Eric Crowningshield
Superb! Congratulations, Erik. It really looks amazing. I hope you’re proud of the results. I know this has been an almost endless process from demoing the deck to installing the paneling, but a worthwhile adventure. Well done. Is everything wrapped up around the door as well? — Geo Davis
No, we are going to adjust the casing so it is the same size trim on each side. Yes, super excited about it and everything it means to you and the story behind it all! — Eric Crowningshield
Garapa Paneling Progress in Icehouse Bathroom (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Bravo, Eric Crowningshield, for completing installation of the glorious garapa paneling in the icehouse bathroom. What a tour de force! It’s hard to believe that this is the same decking your team deconstructed from Rosslyn’s deck a year ago. Many months of brainstorming, experimenting, re-milling, oiling, and installing later this masterpiece is born. Hurrah! — Geo Davis
Garapa Paneled Bathroom (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
It was a task for sure, but the end result more than makes it worth the struggles. It is a must see in person although the pictures capture how amazing it looks, [though] it’s even more impressive in person! — Eric Crowningshield
Garapa Paneled Bathroom (Photo: Eric Crowningshield)
I forgot to tell you. I found one board with plugs still in it, so if you look close it is about midway up the wall between the utility and niche. A couple small ones in the niche as well. I thought that would be pretty cool to help tell the story about it being old decking. Wish I found more. — Eric Crowningshield
Garapa Paneled Bathroom (Photo: Eric Crowningshield)
Thanks for letting me know. I will hunt for them next time I’m back. Although you should’ve left it to see if I noticed! — Geo Davis
Garapa Paneled Bathroom (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
This subtle upcycling/repurposing souvenir isn’t quite discernible in the photo above, but it thrills me. Can’t wait to inspect in person!
Garapa Paneled Bathroom (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
I look forward to sharing more photographs of the icehouse bathroom as it approaches completion. It’s so close… Until then, I’d like to express my profound gratitude to Eric for transforming this vision into reality. What an extraordinary accomplishment!
Eureka! After many months of brainstorming, experimentation, painstakingly protracted preparation, troubleshooting, oiling, and meticulous installation, the garapa paneling in Rosslyn’s icehouse bathroom is complete. What a remarkable journey it’s been, and the final results are breathtaking.
Wayne Oiling Deck in 2009 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Garapa Backstory
Our garapa backstory has its beginning waaayyy back when we built the original garapa deck on the west side of Rosslyn’s ell.
Let’s start by rewinding the timeline to 2008-9. Building the new deck and installing garapa decking was the proverbial caboose in a virtually endless train of construction that started in the summer of 2006. (Source: Garapa Decking 2008-2009)
A touch melodramatic, but the metaphor was (and is) 100% appropriate. It was nothing short of triumphant to finally complete the deck, a real and symbolic final frontier between construction site and comfortable home. It was a much anticipated extension of our indoor living space, a convenient way to access three entrances to the home, and a private exterior zone to dine and relax and entertain.
Carley & Bentley on Old Deck (Photo: Geo Davis)
Fast forward a couple of years, and the triumph began to tarnish.
Long story short, the original deck failed. Not the garapa decking which performed admirably year-after-year. But the substructure.
[…]
Rather than dwelling on the achilles heal that lamentably undermined the integrity of three critical substructures — Rosslyn’s house deck, boathouse gangway, and waterfront stairs — I’ll just say that all three experienced premature decay and rot of the structural lumber…
[…]
Because the substructures began rotting virtually immediately after construction, we spent a decade and a half chasing the problem, scabbing in new lumber, etc. But within the last few years the failure was beginning to outpace our ability to provide bandaids and we scheduled replacement. (Source: Deck Rebuild)
Carley Overseeing Demo of Old Deck (Photo: Geo Davis)
Eric Crowningshield’s team deconstructed much of the deck during the late spring of 2022. When Hroth Ottosen and David McCabe joined them at the beginning of the summer they determined that it was necessary to fully replace rather than repair the existing deck.
Old Deck Demolition (Photo: Geo Davis)
The deconstructed garapa was separated from the structural demolition debris, the highest grade (ergo most salvageable) material was graded, and the best preserved and most character-rich garapa was stored for repurposing in the icehouse rehab project. Then began a lengthy, painstaking upcycling journey.
We’ve been upcycling garapa decking from Rosslyn’s 2008-9 deck that we salvaged and laid aside this past summer. Spanning half a year so far — from deconstructing and culling reusable material midsummer to multiple experiments determining optimal dimensions for adaptive reuse as bathroom paneling — we’re now scaling up production and the results are impressive. (Source: Upcycling Garapa Decking)
By “multiple experiments” I mean empirically evaluating the most aesthetically pleasing, most practical, most installable, and most structurally durable form for the Garapa decking-turned-paneling. Yes, that’s a lot of *mosts* to undertake, but it’s not even the full scope of the challenge.
In addition to devising a perfect product, we needed to coordinate an upcycling process that could be undertaken successfully on site. No loading, trucking, unloading, offsite milling and finishing, reloading, trucking, unloading, storing, etc. It might have been more affordable, and it certainly would’ve been less time consuming, to outsource this project. But that would’ve shifted several variables:
Increasing carbon inputs would have been inconsistent with our reuse objectives.
Transferring oversight to a third party would have reduced our design supervision (while necessitating excess production to ensure sufficient quality during installation.)
Undertaking the upcycling process at Rosslyn allowed for agility and flexibility during the fabrication process, enabling the team to repeatedly test samples in the icehouse, catching small details that might otherwise have been discovered too late, making small alterations, etc.
And despite the inevitable strain (as well as the potential for setbacks) that crept into the equation by committing to on-site fabrication, tackling this challenge in house ensured maximum creative control, significant learning opportunities, rewarding problem solving scenarios, a personalized sense of ownership for those who participated in this project, and a heightened sense of accomplishment upon completion.
In short, upcycling our old garapa deck into the paneling that now distinguishes our icehouse bathroom was a vital, integral component of this adaptive reuse adventure. It was important to me that our team of makers and re-makers have the opportunity to invest themselves fully in this rehabilitation project, that each individual who verily toiled and trusted our vision experience a profound pride of ownership and accomplishment, and that the hyperlocal DNA of this two century old property be honored by favoring ingenuity and endurance over convenience.
From the outset several were intrigued with the potential for this salvaged lumber.
Hroth was an especially good sport, planing board after board and trimming the edges to determine what would work best. (Source: Upcycling Garapa Decking)
Upcycling Garapa (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
As the wear and tear of a decade and a half— heavy foot traffic, enthusiastic labrador retrievers, hardy North Country winters, group grilling and furniture dragging, wine spills and miscellaneous mementos from lots and lots of living — was gradually milled away, the garapa’s handsome heart began to re-emerge.
We have begun re-milling and re-planing garapa decking salvaged from Rosslyn’s summer 2022 deck rebuild. These sample boards are among the many weathered specimens carefully removed this spring and summer prior to rebuilding Rosslyn’s deck substructure and re-decking with new garapa. Hroth’s patient exploratory experimentation is the first phase in our effort to adaptively reuse this character-rich material in the icehouse. (Source: Upcycling Decking Debris)
At last, Hroth perfected the prototype. He then developed a process, a repeatable protocol, for which we could standardize the results primarily relying upon a tablesaw and bench planer. Then he taught Tony how to reproduce the same results in sufficient quantity to panel the still unframed icehouse bathroom.
Tony Upcycling Garapa Decking (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Tony is beavering away industriously… upcycling garapa decking into pristine planks for paneling.
[…]
It’s a slow and painstaking process that demands plenty of patience and focus, but… transforming debris into beautiful finish paneling will prove rewarding, for sure… Tony is even beginning to appreciate what magnificence he is bringing into existence. (Source: Upcycling Garapa Decking)
And so began a winter quest to reinvent debris as functional design-decor.
Time for a progress report on the garapa paneling that will soon embellish the icehouse bathroom. We started out gently easing the edges, but several iterations later we’ve settled on a full roundover. (Source: Garapa Roundover: Easing the Edge)
Months into this painstaking re-manufacturing process, several others had helped Tony from time to time, but there was no illusion. Tony had taken ownership of the garapa upcycling quest!
I joke with Tony that he’s investing lots of love into transforming this material. From debris to centerpiece… he’s literally been working and reworking [this upcycled garapa] since last September or October. That’s a LOT of love! (Source: Garapa Roundover: Easing the Edge)
By late winter Tony had finished planing (down to 9/16”) and dimensioning (down to 4”) the garapa decking. At almost a thousand linear feet we paused and reevaluated the quantity to be certain we would have sufficient usable material for the entire interior of the icehouse bathroom (walls, niche, and mechanical room door).
We revisited options for joining the paneling. To be fastened horizontally to the studs with concealed fasteners, joining the boards would be an important way to stabilize and visually address the gaps between boards. We considered tight lap joints and nickel gap lap joints, eventually settling on a nickel gap T&G type joint. But how best to accomplish this?
Peter’s solution for the ash and elm flooring seemed like our best option for the garapa paneling. We would create garapa splines that would fit into grooves in the sides of the paneling boards. If expansion and contraction (think visible gaps, between boards, etc.) weren’t an issue it might have been viable to just but the boards up against each other. But it’s a bathroom, so fluctuating humidity levels definitely needed to be factored into the equation. The splined joint would be a perfect solution.
And finally there was the question of edging. I wanted to ease the edges just enough to accentuate horizontal shadow lines (which stylistically echo the T&G nickel gap in the rest of interior) while deemphasizing dimensional disparity between boards. So a router joined the production protocol as Tony uniformly finished the visible edges of the paneling.
Garapa Edge Profiles v2.0 (Photo: Geo Davis)
And then there was the final step, oiling the garapa. As often, we turned to Bioshield Hard Oil for a hand rubbed, ecologically responsible finish. Eric’s team tackled the oiling, and the photo above gives you a preview of the garapa, edged and oiled. This was the final sample that we greenlighted before installation began.
And, for just a little longer, I’ll keep you in suspense before I share photos of the now completed garapa installation. Remember, anticipation is half the pleasure!
Installation of Garapa Paneling
I’ve dividing this monumental update into two posts to fairly review and showcase a project that has taken the better part of a year from beginning to finish. Thanks for your patience. I promise you that the photos you’ll witness soon, the finished bathroom paneling, will be worth the wait.
It’s a little premature to start celebrating the soon-to-be-completed hardwood flooring in the icehouse. With only the first two rows installed (and a third in the works), a superstitious soul might delay an update in the interest of humility (or outwitting fate). But it’s been so many months in the planning and preparation that I’ve decided to offer you a flooring sneak peek. After all, it looks too spectacular to keep it a secret!
Flooring Sneak Peek (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Do you remember my post about acclimating the ash and elm flooring in the icehouse loft? Well, with plenty of time for the homegrown flooring to acclimate and a rapidly diminishing timeline, Peter guided the transition to flooring as Eric put the finishing touches on the garapa paneling in the bathroom. (Glorious garapa bathroom update tomorrow.)
In the photograph above, you can see the dramatic intersection of new flooring with the bookmatched threshold (beneath the columns.) The flooring courses will be perfectly aligned in the vestibule and in the main room ensuring continuity with a dramatic interstitial transition at the ash “heart” abstraction formed from the mirrored grain (concealed with rosin paper in this photograph) of the bookmatched planks.
Variable Width Flooring (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
We opted for variable width flooring, and we’re intermingling ash and elm. All of this lumber was harvested, milled, seasoned, dimensioned, and finished on-site. In fact, some of this wood was felled almost 15 years ago, so this has been a slooow evolving rehab! So slow, in fact, that until about a year ago, we’d begrudgingly come to accept that the icehouse rehab might never happen. So, finally witnessing progress, even a few boards, is momentous and deeply rewarding.
I will follow up soonish with a more detailed look at how we’re joining the floorboards and a few other details that will make more sense once we’re a little bit deeper into this project. But, suffice to say, we haven’t taken the easy (or quick) way out! But I’m confident that the rewards are around the corner.
North façade progress. Yes, it’s only a bathroom window, but it’s 1/8 of the fenestration on this elevation AND this aperture allows the bathroom to enjoy natural light for the first time in many months.
Bathroom Window Installed (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
And since the three non operable windows have already been installed, we’re actually halfway to the finish line. Of course, there’s still plenty of window trim to be installed, but…
Bathroom Window Installed (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
The closeup above shows that we have another identical window still waiting to be installed in the mechanical room. But little by little this side of Rosslyn is starting to approach Tiho’s the architectural rendering.
Bathroom Window Installed (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
And a quick glimpse inside the interior of the bathroom where Eric and Matt are installing the garapa paneling offers some hint of the measure of progress that a single window installation can afford.
Many new and exciting thresholds crossed today. Supi, Calvin, and Tony started the stone hardscape project. Peter and Justin installed the columns and book matched ash transition upon which they rest. We finalized the shower glass order, and we *almost* finalized the coffee bar countertop stone. Eric arrived at the halfway point in the bathroom garapa paneling. And Brandon started installing the wiring for the hot tub. What a day!
Brandon Wiring the Hot Tub (Photo: Geo Davis)
It’s pretty exciting yo be one step closer to our first soak in Rosslyn’s icehouse spa! Brandon and his assistant will be back first thing tomorrow to wrap up the preliminary wiring so that the slab can be poured later this week. Hot tub, wiring, concrete slab, and then… we’ll be one giant step closer to soaking our bones and celebrating.
Brandon has been for a couple of years as the electrician for the boathouse gangway / waterfront rehabilitation, the deck rebuild, and the icehouse adaptive reuse. He’s been a tremendous asset, problem solving mystery after mystery, and shoehorning his work into challenging intervals throughout all three projects.
We can’t wait to celebrate another finished project soon!
Matt and Jarrett Installing Nickel Gap on Icehouse Ceiling (Photo: Geo Davis)
Time for a nickel gap progress report. But first let’s backfill slightly. As you may recall, we decided to finish the icehouse interior in T&G nickel gap instead of shiplap. We estimated and re-estimated material, ordered it from of T&G from Haselton’s, waited a couple of weeks for milling and delivery, and then offsite material preparation began.
Supi and Matt Installing Nickel Gap on Icehouse Ceiling (Photo: Geo Davis)
We’ve been fortunate to have two offsite heated garage-workshops serving as paint shops for all of this material because we wanted to pre-finish the lumber and had no viable space on site. Our prep and finish has included 1) shellac-based primer or equivalent on all knots, etc., 2) two coats of rolled primer, and 3) two brushed coats of finish paint.
T&G Nickel Gap Progress on Icehouse Ceiling (Photo: Geo Davis)
T&G Installation
We started by coordinating our installation plan to ensure 100% consistency across weeks of installation with rotating team members. We’re using 16-gauge brad nailers with 2” nails through the tongues, into the 2” studs and rafters. On sloped and flat ceilings T&G is being doubled up and “scissor nailed” as follows:
maximizing the nailing angle of fasteners as close to 90° as possible to ensure maximum holding,
taking advantage of the full width of the 2” rafters,
driving the fasteners through the shoulder of the tongues into the framing at a 45° angle to improve retention against gravity, and
shimming if/as necessary to ensure full contact of T&G with rafters and to eliminate waviness.
Nickel Gap Progress on Icehouse Ceiling (Photo: Geo Davis)
When installation began, we transported material into the icehouse in sufficient amounts calibrated to speed of progress. We still need a little more trial-and-error to perfect our flow while trying balance multiple considerations:
enough material needs to be onsite for ongoing/continuous installation,
material flow should anticipate enough acclimatization time so that we don’t experience expansion or shrinkage after installation,
and, just to keep things challenging, we need to avoid having excess material in the icehouse at any given time because it gets in the way of other projects.
In short, three challenges baked into one!
Nickel Gap Progress on Icehouse Ceiling (Photo: Geo Davis)
Nickel Gap Progress
As you can see, we started out with the two gable end walls per Peter’s prudent recommendation. Now we’ve moved onto the north ceiling, with close to 2/3 complete including the challenging integration where loft built is are being installed.
T&G Nickel Gap Progress in Icehouse (Photo: Geo Davis)
Matt, Jarrett, Supi, and Eric have been focusing on the T&G nickel gap installation, and the progress is really starting to add up. The coming promised to be another visual leap forward as the ceiling gets closed up. I promise to post photos as soon as significant headway has been made!
Nickel Gap Progress Video
Let’s wrap up with a little moving picture to show you what’s happened so far…
Some weekends are for relaxing or fêting friends. Other weekends are for backcountry adventures or polar plunges in currently 35° Lake Champlain. But today was dedicated to cladding — T&G paneling inside the icehouse and clapboard outside the outhouse — with four dedicated members of Rosslyn’s icehouse rehab team swapping R&R for punch list productivity. Let’s take a quick look at the Saturday siding progress.
Saturday Siding: Calvin and Eric installing clapboard on the icehouse’s west elevation (Photo: Geo Davis)
Proceeding with our unusual siding-before-windows protocol, Calvin and Eric moved forward with clapboard installation on the west elevation. The fourth and final façade!
It’s exciting to see the ZIP System paneling (and the Benjamin Obdyke Slicker) disappearing from view since it offers a highly visual barometer Reaser on the overall trajectory for this stage in the project.
Next we need to mark the precise location for the future gable window, install temporary trim “stops” for the remaining clapboard, and carry the clapboard on up to the roof. But given the forecast for tomorrow, a midday high of a about 25°, we’ll shift the focus inside to paneling.
Saturday Siding Mashup
Here’s a video remix of today’s Saturday siding progress (juiced up with a mesmerizing drum soundtrack and a retro film feel, my not-so-subtle homage to Rosslyn’s timeless allure.)
What wintery wonders shall I share with you today? How about a celebration (and showcase) of upcycled Christmas gifts dreamed into existence by three allstar members of our icehouse rehab team?
Upcycled Christmas Gifts from Pam, Hroth, and Tony (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
[pullquote]These upcycled Christmas gifts are a product and symbol of renewal.[/pullquote]
I talk and I type, but these three creative characters have reimagined and reinvented deconstruction debris into functional art and decor. They transformed a piece of old garapa decking and a handful of icehouse artifacts (uncovered during laborious hand excavation for the new foundation) into a handsome coatrack, and they transformed a gnarled piece of rusty steel back into a museum-worthy ice hook that turns the clock back 100+ years.
Let’s start with the photograph at the top of this post which Pam accompanied with the following note of explanation.
Hroth, Tony and I wanted to wish you both a very Merry Christmas. We came up with the idea to make a coat rack out of repurposed items. The wood is old garapa. I found the spikes in the icehouse during inventory and the hook was also discovered in the icehouse during excavation for the concrete floor/footers. Hroth custom made a handle for the ice hook. We also wanted to add a new hummingbird feeder to the garden outside of the breakfast area. Merry Christmas! — Pamuela Murphy
Perfection! Garapa upcycled from Rosslyn’s 2008-9 deck build and miscellaneous ice hauling artifacts reconciled and reborn as a new coat rack that will greet icehouse visitors upon entering the miniature foyer, and a restored antique ice hook that will be displayed prominently in the main room. Bravo, team.
Upcycled Christmas Gifts from Pam, Hroth, and Tony (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
I was curious how Hroth had fabricated the garapa handle for the ice hook out of old decking boards. It’s so round/cylindrical that it looks as if he’d used a lathe.
Two pieces of garapa laminated together. Started out about a 16 inch because it was easier to run through the table saw. I made an octagon out of it on the table saw, then used the big belt sander… I roughed it up a little bit. Didn’t want it to look too perfect. Then Pam suggested that we take a propane torch to it. Made it look older.
It was a fun project. I still need to seal the wood and the metal. Penetrating sealer works well on metal. It’s sharp… We were thinking you might want to put some corks on the ends… or garapa balls. That was the first thing I thought of. We can certainly do that. — Ottosen Hroth
Carving tiny garapa orbs to install on the spikes strikes me as the perfect way to complete the coat rack so that jackets can be hung without getting spikes. It’ll be a difficult-but-intriguing challenge! There must be some technique for creating a small wooden sphere out of a block of wood. Hhhmmm…
I can’t imagine more perfect Christmas gifts. Their collaboration has rendered layers of Rosslyn history — from the late 1800s and early 1900s when the icehouse was in use, through 2008 when we built the deck that yielded this garapa, to 2022 when the old deck was deconstructed and the icehouse rehabilitation was initiated — into timeless beauty that will adorn the icehouse when it is introduced/revealed next summer. These upcycled Christmas gifts are a product and symbol of renewal. Our gratitude is exceeded only by Hroth’s, Pam’s, and Tony’s collaborative accomplishment.
Upcycled Christmas Gifts (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Upcycled Christmas Gifts (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Upcycled Christmas Gift 2022: antique ice hook with handmade handle (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
The flip-through gallery above offers a few more details, and all three (as the two featured photographs above) are documented inside the icehouse with mid-construction backdrops: old studs with new spray foam insulation and new subfloor ready for interior framing and hardwood flooring. It’s tempting to offer tidier or even fancier backdrops, but authenticity prevails. Future decor created from old materials, documented midstream the icehouse’s transformation. Future, past, and present. Concurrent history and hope, a timeless present, an artistic representation of this liminal moment.
Backstory to Upcycled Christmas Gifts
Susan and my gratitude to Pam, Hroth, and Tony is (and obviously should be) the focus of today’s Rosslyn Redux installment, but I can’t conclude without first considering a slightly more amplified retrospective, the backstory, if you will, to the new coat rack and restored ice hook.
Let’s start by rewinding the timeline to 2008-9. Building the new deck and installing garapa decking was the proverbial caboose in a virtually endless train of construction that started in the summer of 2006. (Source: Garapa Decking 2008-2009)
In the photograph below, taken exactly fourteen years ago today, Warren Cross is putting the finishing touches on our first deck build. Although the perspective may be misleading given the still unbuilt garbage and recycling “shed” which today stands directly behind Warren, this is the northernmost extension of Rosslyn’s deck. The stone step (actually a repurposed hitching post chiseled from Chazy and Trenton limestone (aka “Essex stone”) and the rhododendron shrubs are not yet in place either.
But it you imagine the perspective as if you were standing just north of the morning room, looking back toward the carriage barn and icehouse, you’ll be oriented in no time. Oriented, yes, but nevertheless a bit disoriented too, I imagine, as you look upon a carpenter laboring in the snow to scribe and affix the garapa deck skirting / apron that will complete the installation that had began in the autumn with far more hospitable conditions.
Warren Cross completing garapa decking installation on December 22, 2008 (Photo: Geo Davis)
It’s worth noting that Warren, already in his mature years when he worked on Rosslyn with us, not only threw himself into difficult endeavors like the one above, he contributed decades’ of experience and an unsurpassed work ethic that inspired everyone with whom he worked in 2008 and 2009. But there’s an even more notable memory that describes Warren. He was a gentleman. And he was a gentle man. It was a privilege to witness Warren’s collegiality, and Rosslyn profited enduringly from his expertise. But it was his disposition, his consideration, and his kindness that make me nostalgic when I hear him mentioned or when I catch sight of him in photographs.
In terms of memories conjured by this repurposed garapa decking, I should include Hroth’s “research” this past autumn into how best we might reuse the lumber. There was such anticipation and excitement in the hours he experimented and explored. The image below perfectly illustrates the hidden gold just waiting to reemerge from the deconstructed decking material.
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. (Source: Upcycling Decking Debris)
Hroth’s discoveries underpin our plan to panel the interior of the new icehouse bathroom with what for a decade and a half withstood the Adirondack Coast elements season after season, and a rambunctious parade of footfalls, barbecues, dog paws, wetsuits, etc. It’s as if the new coat rack exudes the anticipation and optimism that many of us brought to the journey of upcycling the old decking into the new paneling.
And there is an aside that I’m unable to resist mentioning. Pam’s late husband, Bob Murphy, who worked as our property caretaker and became an admired and dearly respected friend, several times removed and reinstalled Rosslyn’s garapa decking over the years — monitoring, triaging, and compensating for the failing TimberSIL substructure. He knew that we would need to rebuild the entire deck soon, and yet he waged a relentless campaign to extend the useful life of the deck as long as possible. I think he’d be proud of the work accomplished by the team this summer, and he sure would have loved being part of that team! And the icehouse rehab would have thrilled him. Needless to say, these upcycled Christmas gifts from Pam and Hroth and Tony also exude Bob’s smile, familiar chuckle, and that mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
And what about that antique 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. (Source: Icehouse Rehab 01: The Ice Hook)
Isn’t a beauty? Well, rusty and corroded, but a beauty nonetheless, I think.
Antique Ice Hook, artifact unearthed during the icehouse rehabilitation, 2022 (Source: R.P. Murphy)
The prospect of restoring that ice hook crossed my mind at the time. But it struck me as a challenging proposition given the advanced state of decay. What a surreal transformation from rust-crusted phantom to display-ready relic! It too is marinated in memories, some recent and personal, others vague and distant. In the near rearview mirror are the painstaking efforts made by our team to secure the historic stone foundation beneath the icehouse while ensuring the structural integrity demanded by modern building codes. A labor of loves on the parts of so many. And today we can look back from the proud side of accomplishment. As for the more distant rearview, the antique mirror has succumbed to the influence of time, the glass crazed and hazy, the metallic silver chipped and flaking. And yet we can detect traces of laughter and gossip as blocks of ice were cut from the lake, hooked and hauled up to the icehouse, and stacked in tidy tiers for cooling and consumption during temperate times ahead.
A Glimmer of Springtime
In closing this runaway post, I would like to express my warmest gratitude for the upcycled Christmas gifts above, and for a new hummingbird feeder to welcome our exuberant avian friends back in the springtime. Taken together this medley of gifts excite in Susan and me the enthusiasm and optimism for the coming months of rehabilitation and mere months from now the opportunity to celebrate a project too long deferred and so often anticipated. With luck we’ll be rejoicing together in the newly completed icehouse by the time the hummingbirds return to Rosslyn.
Hummingbird Feeder 2022 Christmas Gift from Pam, Tony, and Hroth (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Thank you, Pam, Hroth, and Tony for these perfect presents. And thank you to everyone else I’ve mentioned above for enriching this home and our lives. I look forward to rekindling these memories when I hang my coat or my cap up each time I enter the icehouse. Merry Christmas to all!
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…
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!
I started an update a couple of weeks back that never made it out of the nest. An unfledged fledgling… At issue? Heat and humidity stabilization in the icehouse to properly acclimatize lumber pre-installation.
Temporary LP Monitor Heater (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Given a few savvy questions about how we planned to install finish woodwork (flooring, paneling, etc.) in the icehouse — which until recently still had no heat and still had leaky apertures where windows and doors won’t be installed until May — I had initiated a quick explanation for how we planned to temporarily stabilize the temperature and humidity to ensure predictable, effective lumber acclimatization. Initiated but then neglected. The questions have continued, mostly from carpenters a others savvy to the expansion and contraction of wood. So I’m returning to the topic, better late than never?!?! The silver lining? Our plan for stabilizing the heat and humidity was implemented a couple of weeks ago. And it’s working well.
Stabilizing Heat & Humidity in Icehouse (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
After my last visit Eric and Peter coordinated, source, installed efficient LP monitor heater that is thermostatically controlled and piped temporarily to an external propane tank. This setup, in conjunction with well insulated apertures, has effectively enabled us to stabilize the interior of workspace for the coming months, creating a heat and humidity controlled “envelope” where temperature and moisture are stable so that finish lumber can be properly acclimatized.
Another positive twist of fate: Eric was able to source an oversized monitor heater (more than satisfying our BTU needs for the small space) that had been previously but lightly used at a discounted price. Win, win. Hurrah, Eric!
Stabilizing Heat & Humidity in Icehouse (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
The photo at the top of this post is the monitor heater, and the next two photographs show examples of interior vapor/air barriers (plus rock wool insulation) that were added to the apertures. Window and door framing was undertaken prior to installation of the ZIP System paneling, so there was already a decent barrier in place for these apertures. But we needed to further improve thermal and moisture barriers, especially on the north and west elevations where ample fenestration made it more challenging to control the interior work environment 24×7.
With the monitor installed and working well and the interior/exterior barrier effectively controlled, there remained one additional temporary-but-important complement: a secure, functional access for day-to-day work. Ad-hoc closure systems had been adequate early on, but it was time to install a convenient but lockable, well insulated, pre-hung exterior door.
Temporary Exterior Door (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Kudos to Peter and Eric buttoning up the space to ensure forward progress over the last couple of weeks. I’m looking forward to witnessing firsthand tomorrow afternoon the hardwood flooring (beech) in the loft, for example, an accomplishment that was possible only once the heat and humidity stabilization was complete and the materials had acclimated on site for a couple of weeks.
At the root of Rosslyn Redux is a question. What makes a house a home?
Simple question. Less simple answer. More precisely, the answers to what makes a house a home are diverse and possibly even evolving — slowly, perpetually — as we live our lives. What defines “homeness” as a child likely differs as a young, independent adult, nesting for the first time. And our first autonomous forays into homemaking likely morph as we live through our twenties and into subsequent decades, family and lifestyle changes, etc.
Let’s start with a playful poem by Edgar Albert Guest.
Ye’ve got t’ sing an’ dance fer years, ye’ve got t’ romp an’ play,
An’ learn t’ love the things ye have by usin’ ’em each day;
[…]
Ye’ve got t’ love each brick an’ stone from cellar up t’ dome:
It takes a heap o’ livin’ in a house t’ make it home.
— Edgar Albert Guest, “Home” (Source: Poetry Foundation)
If you haven’t read this Edgar Albert Guest poem, I recommend it. And I strongly suggest you read it out loud!
I start with Guest’s insights because they’re thoughtful despite the playful affect. They capture both the breadth and the subjectivity of answering the question, what makes a house a home? And they hint at the protean nature of this inquiry.
Love Makes a House a Home (Photo: Geo Davis)
An Evolving Recipe
Just when I think I’ve narrowed down a reliable recipe for what makes a house a home, I question it. Whether catalyzed by a conversation with another homemaker, exposure to an especially compelling or innovative home, or a eureka moment totally unrelated to “homeness” (recently, sailboat design of 35-50′ sloops), my reliable recipe is suddenly less reliable. It needs a few tweaks. I remove ingredients less essential than previously believed, and I introduce new ingredients. A teaspoon of this, an ounce of that. Season to taste…
The mercurial nature of “homeness” is not really that surprising given the subjectivity of our residential tastes, needs, means, ambitions, and limitations. The rise of a thriving van life culture in recent years offers a healthy reminder of how little is actually needed for many individuals to feel at home. And yet, the proliferation of van life blogs and social media streams celebrate the individuality and subjectivity shaping perspectives on what makes a house a home. Overlanding in a tricked out van, living aboard a wind and water washed boat, or nesting on an anchored spot of terra firma, it turns out that what makes a house a home is profoundly personal.
One of the joys of homeownership lies in expressing ourselves through our surroundings… Most of us can hardly wait to put our personal stamp on our living spaces. It is, after all, part of the process of turning a house into a home. (New England Home)
The process of transforming a house into a home — fixed or mobile — inevitably encounters elements and conditions that shape the nesting process. In other words, our will and whim are only part of the equation.
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…
Snipped from my short poem about repurposing Rosslyn into our home, I’m acknowledging the property’s history and preexisting conditions. It’s a nod to inputs outside of Susan and my personal needs and desires. Just as these inherited inputs can be hurdles or challenges, often they introduce character and richness, add depth and texture, and even invest an aesthetic or programmatic cohesion that might otherwise be lacking.
I’ve frequently joked that no detail of Rosslyn’s rehabilitation escaped our fingerprints, [but] much attention was paid throughout to preserving the buildings’ unique heritage. My bride and I were far less preoccupied with our own personal stamp than we were with finding Rosslyn’s personal stamp, her DNA, and reawakening it to guide our renovation. (Reawakening Rosslyn)
I suspect that there’s often an even more abstract but profoundly important force at work in making a house a home. Intersecting our needs and appetites and the preexisting conditions, there exists an ineffable consciousness, even a conviction, that we feel at home. Can it be a sanctuary where we feel safe, happy, calm, nourished, revitalized, and creative? Can the house, as our home, become an oasis nurturing the sort of life that is indispensable to our wellbeing?
House of Dreams: Gaston Bachelard (Source: The Poetics of Space)
I understand that this wonderful old, living and breathing home provides for us in innumerable ways every day. I know that Rosslyn is a house of dreams and daydreamers. And for this I am extremely grateful. (House of Dreams)
This consciousness or conviction is totally subjective and deeply personal. Clearly articulating it can prove elusive. But we recognize the feeling when we’re fortunate enough to come across it. Sometimes the pull can be so powerful that we yield despite logical and practical considerations, and even despite obvious counterindications.
We had joked about how much time and money it would take to make Rosslyn habitable, categorically dismissing it as an investment. And yet it clearly had captured our hearts. If it were our home and not a short term investment, then maybe the criteria were different. Maybe the potential was different. Maybe the risk was different. (We Could Live at Rosslyn)
Many of us have found ourselves in this push-pull between the abiding rules and paradigms we use to navigate most of our life’s decisions and the sometimes conflicting passion we feel for a potential home. Over the last decade and a half that I’ve been trying to understand “homeness” and the curious exceptions that some of us are willing to make when it comes to our homes, I’ve picked the brains of family, friends, and total strangers when opportunities arose. And sometimes when they didn’t! I’ve been struck as much by the overlaps as the distinctions. There do seem to be some almost universal notions of what makes a house a home, and yet a beautiful bounty of unique attributes are at least as important to the individuals creating (and sometimes recreating) their homes.
Personal Mementos Make a House a Home (Photo: Geo Davis)
Vox Populi, An Introduction
Rather than pretending I’ve distilled the perfect formula, I’m going to showcase a relatively random but recent collection of perspectives and opinions gathered from family, close friends, and several contributors to our current projects. That’s right, I’m going to sidestep the tempting trap of defining what makes a house a home in lieu of broadening and diversifying consideration. Or, put differently, I’ll bypass my own bias by crowdsourcing the question.
I reached out a few days ago to a couple people with whom I’ve discussed this topic before. I asked them all some version of the following.
I have a quick challenge-type-question for you. I’m drafting a blog post about “homeness”, and I’ve reached out to a handful of people that I think might offer interesting perspectives. If you have 30 seconds, I’d love to include your thoughts. If not, no worries. No deep thinking. No fancy answers. No pressure. Just a spontaneous, off-the-cuff, candid response to the question: what does it mean to make a house a home? In other words, what transforms a house into a home?
I was so enthralled with the first few responses that I decided to postpone the post in order to solicit even more perspectives. What follows is a fascinating array of responses, starting with several collaborators on Rosslyn’s icehouse project (Tiho, architecture; Hroth and Eric, construction/carpentry; and Pam, project/property management) and Mike, a carpenter who works for us in Santa Fe (as does Hroth, although we’ve been fortunate to have his expertise at Rosslyn as well since July.)
Tiho Dimitrov: What makes a house a home? For me, it’s my books, my guitars, and the odd pieces of art that I own. It’s the art and the books that bring a sense of me or a sense of my spirit. Combine that with the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and you have a home. It’s the imperfections of a place that make it perfect.
Hroth Ottosen: Off the top of my head the difference between a house and a home would be family. But that doesn’t apply to my life. My circumstances are extremely exceptional. I consider my house in Mora, New Mexico my home because I built it from scratch without much help from anybody, and to my own specifications and desires. Not many people can say that. (Later…) While making dinner I thought about what makes a house a home. A name doesn’t hurt. I consider Rosslyn my home right now!
Eric Crowningshield: Home is the place where I feel proud and comfortable being! I joke around saying we are the dream makers because we try to take homeowners’ dreams and turn them into a reality!
Pamuela Murphy: A house is a house, but a home is where the love is. It takes love, hard work, and teamwork to make a house a home.
Mike Hall: To me it it means cozy and comfortable and someone to share that with. This popped into my head because my wife and I are at the Bosque del Apache celebrating our 31 anniversary!
Homegrown Food Makes a House a Home (Photo: Geo Davis)
My next pollees are family members, starting with my beautiful bride (Susan), then on to my parents (Melissa and Gordon), one of my nieces (Frances), one of my nephews (Christoph), and my cousin (Lucy).
Susan Bacot-Davis: It’s easy to see Rosslyn as my home. We’ve invested sixteen years of our life reimagining, renovating, and sharing her. But I learned in Côte d’Ivoire where I lived in 1989 and 1990 that home can be a place very foreign to me. I came to my village wondering how I would ever be comfortable there. I departed almost a year later wondering how I could ever bear to leave. It was my neighbors, my friends and colleagues, my community, and my sense of belonging within that community, not the concrete hut within which I dwelled, that embraced me and made me feel safe and nurtured.
Melissa Davis: I’d say home needs comfortable spaces for you to do the things that you like to do. That means you need to know what those things are! So I need a place to sit and write, draw, type, pay bills, and address Christmas cards. And I need a place for the related “stuff”. And homeness means music in the places I do my activities as well as space to actually do the activities (room for yoga mat, comfortable chair/bed to read paper and books, do crossword puzzles, and drink coffee). House becomes home with enough outdoor space to grow something to eat! Eventually a home has memories throughout it which solidifies its homeness, and that requires people who are important to us.
Gordon Davis: Takes a heap a livin’ to make a house a home. And snacks.
Frances Davis: What makes a house a home in my mind is the few mementos that hold special memories or are sentimental for any reason, which we bring with us to each new place we live in. For example, random mugs collected over the years, or certain books, or even a sweater that we wore after high school grad. Whatever they are, these items carry significance in our hearts and bring our past into whatever new building we’re in to make it our home.
Christoph Aigner: Home is a place that draws people in, a space that makes one feel comfortable and at peace. It is familiar to those who call it home, and it reflects a person’s or family’s values and the life they live.
Lucy Haynes: Bringing the outdoors in – branches, plants. Living things. Also – antiques and pieces that have been used. And enjoyed.
On to friends, diverse personalities with whom we’ve fortunately become acquainted across the years.
Kevin Raines: The word home has it’s roots in the old English word ‘ham’ and means a place where souls are gathered. I like that idea because as a house is lived in it grows rich in memories that welcome and enrich the inhabitants and guests who frequent the structure. Through the gathering of souls space becomes an extension of self, past, present, and into the future.
Lisa Fisher: Home is not the house where you live but your relationship to it. If within the space you feel comfortable, yourself. To be “at home” is to have a sense of belonging — to a place, to the world you have made within it. I think it was Heidegger who came up with the notion of individual worlds, meaning the stuff we surround ourselves with, including ideas and beliefs, but also our physical realm. Homenesss speaks to the human element of habitation: the inhabiting of a space.
Alexander Davit: The stories that are created while people are living there.
Miriam Klipper: House is the structure. A home is all the things you’ve put in it — including memories. By the way, memories include selecting every painting, carpet (remember our visit in Turkey?), crafting the most beautiful house, every perfect detail…
Amy Guglielmo: What makes a house a home? For me it’s comfort and color! Soft natural textures, local art and touches. Softness, coziness, calmness. Always views for us. Aspirational space to dream. And accessibility to community. Beach, pool, recreation. Close proximity to nature. We’re wrapping up designing our new home in Ixtapa, Mexico, and we’re only missing books and games at this point. But I think we nailed the rest!
Roger Newton: Love.
Jennifer Isaacson: Surrounding yourself with things/objects that hold a history and meaning to you.
Lee Maxey: What transforms a house into a home… One word “life”. Living things, people, animals, plants, and any items that support or enhance life. Cooking implements, cozy blankets, music, well read books on a bookshelf, and signs of soul. Today is the 2nd anniversary of my mom’s passing. I have just spent a couple hours going through photos and crying and writing in my journal. One of the things I miss most are the smells. Our smells make a house our home.
Denise Wilson Davis: For me, simply, what makes a house a home is the feeling that love resides there. That, as an owner you’ve put love into it… from the care and fixing to the furnishings and found objects that bring joy or remembrance. Home is an intimacy — a reflection of your heart and creative soul — that welcomes guests and makes them comfortable.
David Howson: This is similar to the saying, “at home”. When one feels “at home”, they mean they feel a certain kind of comfort and peace. One wouldn’t say, I feel “at house”. I fondly remember the first night I stayed at Rosslyn. While it wasn’t my house, you and Susan certainly made me feel “at home”.
Ana June: I think of home as curated and designed. It is a space where your heart is visible in your environment.
I’m profoundly grateful to everyone who offered their quick thoughts. And I was warmly surprised by how many wanted to expand the exchange into a lengthier conversation. So many intriguing notions of “homeness” and personal perspectives on what uniquely distinguish their own living space. Often relationships, shared experiences, and love wove their way into our discussions. I’ve abbreviated this post, and yet I realize that I’d like to dive in a little deeper with many of those I’ve quoted here. With luck I’ll revisit again in the near future.
Pets Make a House a Home: Griffin, April 16, 2012 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Until then, I’d like to weave in one additional thread that I personally consider an indispensable component of our home. Pets.
While Susan is the beating heart around which our small nuclear family orbits, we’ve never been without a dog for more than a few months. For us family and home are intrinsically connected with Tasha, Griffin, and Carley. Although Tasha and Griffin are chasing balls in the Elysian Fields, they remain with us, surfacing every day in our memories and conversations. They’ve left their imprints in the ways we live and play and entertain and in the way that we raise our current Labrador Retriever, Carley. On occasions when our little threesome is temporarily divided, for example this past October while I was away in California while Susan and Carley were in Santa Fe for a couple of weeks, our home felt incomplete. Despite good adventures with good people, Susan and I both acknowledged the voids we were feeling. Our home was temporarily divided. Returning to my bride and my dog instantly made me feel complete once again. So, for us, an important part of what makes a house a home is all of the beings — human and not-so-human (although our dogs differ on the distinction!) —that inhabit and visit our dwelling.
