One of the four buildings still standing (if barely) when we purchased Rosslyn in 2006, rehabilitating the icehouse has long been a priority. And just as long — or almost as long — we’ve postponed all but its most critical preservation. As one of the extant bridges to Rosslyn’s past, we still hope/plan to tackle this utility building. The posts below will offer a glimpse into why, when, and maybe even how Rosslyn’s icehouse was, is, and will continue to be important.
Searching for Poetry Amidst Architectural Salvage (Photo: Geo Davis)
Searching for poetry, questing for questions that need no answers to matter and guide and enrich.
This might be my epitaph. Some day. But not yet. I hope.
Today, the vernal equinox, I awoke at 4:00 AM, eager to start cooking a wild boar roast I had thawed. Actually it wasn’t the roast that caffeinated me prior to my first cuppa MUD\WTR, that zero-to-sixtied my green gray matter within seconds.
If the human brain were a computer, it would be the greenest computer on Earth.
You with me? Caveat emptor: it’s going to be that kind of post!
It wasn’t anticipation of the pulled wild boar that I enjoyed for lunch (and soon will enjoy for dinner) that prevented me from falling back asleep. (I love variety, but if it ain’t broke… And if you’ve cooked 5.4lbs of wild boar shoulder, then share, eat, share, eat, share,…)
It was one of those light-switch-on awakenings. Sound asleep one moment, wide awake the next. 100% alert, cylinders thumping away, and focus dialed in. Monday morning’s are often like that for me. And with an ambitious punch list for the icehouse rehab, I needed to hit the ground running. Or jumpstart the week by roasting a wild boar shoulder?
Both.
But, after talking through exterior trim and clapboard siding with two contractors, explaining how to prune watersprouts (aka “growth shoots) out of our mature American Linden to another contractor, and various other midmorning miscellanea, I headed into the carriage barn for some, ahem, research.
I’m still sorting through architectural salvage and surplus building materials, endeavoring to make final decisions for the icehouse. Woulda-coulda-shoulda tackled this many months ago, and I tried, but the process continues to evolve. In some cases, it’s continues to elude me. So my endeavor continues.
Today I ruled out a couple of ideas I’ve been developing, visions for upcycling deconstructed cabinetry from Sherwood Inn days. The visions have faded, but all is not lost. In the shadowy space they’ve left behind, I stumbled upon something else.
A poem.
Searching for Poetry Amidst Architectural Salvage (Photo: Geo Davis)
Searching for Poetry
Wabi-sabi wandering,
wabi-sabi wondering —
reimagining relics,
architectural salvage,
weather worn detritus,
offcuts, rusty remainders,
time textured tatters,
pre-mosaic fragments,
and dust mote mirages —
so much pulling apart,
so much pushing aside,
searching for poetry.
Today I concluded that the vision I’d been pursuing — a vision of upcycling deconstructed cabinetry and paneling from the Sherwood Inn’s colonial taproom — had been little more than mirage. However as this mirage vanished, I happened upon a glimmer of clarity, fleeting but encouraging, around an even bigger mystery that I’ve been chasing. Also mirage-like, also elusive, also a problem that persistence might hopefully tame, also a quest for questions that illuminate and instruct even when their answers evanesce.
This glimmer of clarity (try to imagine a spark that just might benefit from attention, a flickering flame that invites kindling with promises of a roaring bonfire) materialized briefly where moments before a mirage had danced and vanished. And what did I see? Companionship. Kinship. Similarity. Affinity. Between poetry and architectural rehabilitation and adaptive reuse. A glimmer and gone. I exaggerate, but the picture is at once protean, subtle, and elusive.
Nevertheless, I will continue to strive, risk, and experiment. I will continue essaying to illustrate the intimate overlap between poetry and construction — especially between composing lyric essay and adaptive reuse of existing buildings and building materials — until my wandering and wondering renders an oasis. Or admits a mirage.
Today’s post is a tribute to our Rosslyn forebear, George McNulty, from whom we inherited a whimsical double sunburst motif on the west façade of Rosslyn’s ell, and Peter Vaiciulis who fabricated a slightly downscaled sister embellishment for the east façade of the icehouse.
Double Sunburst, Rosslyn’s Icehouse, March 2023 (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
This twist on a familiar Essex architectural theme, the sunburst motif that is most prominent on the old firehouse turned art gallery turned tavern (in the middle of town), is perhaps best described as a double sunburst. Or, in the view of Peter, the carpenter who reinterpreted George McNulty’s original with a slightly more diminutive iteration, this is not a sunburst at all, but rather two “sun fans”.
And a haiku is born.
Double Sunburst Haiku
What sunburst motif? Better two suns than one, and a pair of sun fans.
Or Sunup, Sundown?
As an unabashed heliocentrist I’m drawn to another possibility. Possibly Peter’s “sun fans” are actually an architectural paean to the rising sun and the setting sun. Sunup. Sundown. Conjoined. Sunup-sundown.
While it’s tempting to conceive of Essex, New York (and maybe even the entire Adirondack Coast) as the point of perennial sunrise, more fitting (and yet similarly flattering) is the more reality based celebration of sunup AND sundown. For both are glorious in this realm.
Afterward
The Essex sunburst has ostensibly been ornamenting our community since the late 18th or early 19th century. Perhaps this 1882 Harper’s Weekly illustration was inspired by a visit to our fair hamlet?
Installation of clapboard is complete! All four façades of Rosslyn’s icehouse are now handsomely clad in cedar, primed and painted before installation, ready for nailhead touchup as temperature rises in the weeks ahead.
Clapboard Complete, March 23, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Especial accolades are due Supi and Peter who stayed late last night to finish all but the last four boards at the apex of the gable end. And Calvin showed up at the crack-of-dawn this morning to finish up the elevation that he had started about a week ago. Justin has been a big help on this east elevation, and I’m probably overlooking someone. Better dig back through my photos!
To everyone who helped wrap this historic icehouse and clapboard and trim, so that we’re ready when the windows arrive in a month and a half… Thank you, all. Working on clapboard siding off-and-on during these winter months whenever conditions permitted made for an unpredictable workflow. But you persisted, and now we can all appreciate the rewards. Congratulations!
Clapboard Complete, March 23, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Peter is prepping the clapboard sunburst motif elements that will infill the two triangles flanking the gable end window. The entrance door will be delivered shortly, and the garapa decking material will be ordered next week. Little by little this building is starting to resemble the plan…
Rendering for Icehouse Rehabilitation, East Elevation (Source: Tiho Dimitrov)
Much of the current and upcoming stage in Rosslyn’s icehouse rehab involves covering, cladding, and closing in: clapboard siding, T&G nickel gap paneling, upcycled garapa paneling, and plenty of hardwood flooring. Today I’d like to get you up-to-date on the loft flooring.
Loft Flooring Update (R.P. Murphy)
We’ve installed beech flooring that remained from the first floor reflooring (entrance hallway, living room, parlor, and kitchen) completed in 2007-8. Stored in the icehouse for the last decade and a half with plenty of additional surplus building materials, this handsome hardwood — originally selected for its local origins, pale color, and character-rich grain — has been repurposed as our new loft flooring.
But, as often, I’m getting in front of myself. Before installation came acclimatization…
Loft Flooring Update (R.P. Murphy)
Acclimating Beech Flooring
A few weeks ago Tony and Peter relocated the beech hardwood flooring from one of the storage containers to the icehouse loft area where it was stacked and stickered strategically to maximize through-flow of warm, dry air. Frequent metering enabled us to track the moisture content of the flooring as it stabilized.
The beech was oriented perpendicular to the loft floor joists, starting at the east edge of the loft where we temporarily attached spacers (retainers for railing bottoms and the top stairway tread) to accurately determine the flooring’s start point. Beginning on this side enabled us to minimize the likelihood of a visible “pie wedge” given less than perfect geometry of our 130+ year old building.
Prior to working west from the loft overhang, yes team marked out locations for future cabinets that will be fabricated and installed along the north and south knee walls. Because we were using remnant flooring (think limited quantity) we needed to prioritize the area of the floor that would be visible once the cabinetry was in place. We ran the flooring “ragged” under the cabinets — underlaying the figure cabinets without extending all of the way to the wall, allowing us to ensure sufficient material for the exposed area of the floor.
Especial attention was paid to sequencing beech boards in a visually attractive progression, board-to-board, ensuring that the color and character variations would enhance the cohesive integration across entire floor.
Another less visible but important detail: integrating the top stair tread. Peter shaped a beech slab to frame the flooring at the top of the staircase, routering in a tongue for the 90° conjunction between flooring and beech stair tread. This has added a little extra time, but it ensures a more stable joint in a high traffic, high visibility transition.
Now that the loft flooring is installed, it’s time for sanding and sealing. I’ll post an update soon!
Rendering for Icehouse Rehabilitation: East Elevation Gable Window (Source: Tiho Dimitrov)
I mentioned recently that framing for the expansive gable window in the west elevation of Rosslyn’s icehouse was completed, and the change was monumental. Now we’re on hold, anticipating the big reveal in a few months when the new windows arrive and the sheathing can be trimmed. For now that facade is concealed behind a plane of green ZIP paneling, effectively shrouding the dramatic transformation until springtime. Anticipation, I tell my dog, is have the pleasure…
Today, however, I’m able to update you on Hroth‘s gable window framing for the *east elevation*. Hurrah! As you can see in Tiho‘s rendering above, the openings on the lake-facing facade will remain virtually unchanged except for a shift from opaque (solid wood openings) to transparent (glass window and door). But the the east elevation gable window will be integrated into a whimsical Essex sunburst motif that echoes the same detail on the third story, west elevation gable end of the main house. I will focus on this detail separately once we’ve made a little more progress.
In short, we’ve endeavored to maintain the public view shed much as it has appeared in recent decades albeit with a reimagined sunburst embellishment that weaves the icehouse together with the main house, the gates, and multiple additional sunburst motifs throughout Essex and the Champlain Valley.
Envisioning the icehouse rehab from within, the photo below helps orient the new window as it will be experienced from the loft (still not framed) and, to a lesser degree, the main room. Morning light will illuminate the interior, offering a restrained prelude to the magnificent afternoon lighting that will bath the icehouse as the sun sets into the Adirondack foothills.
Icehouse Interior, East elevation gable window (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
The closeup below captures Hroth at the end of a long day of carriage barn carpentry looking a more than a little bit ready for some heat and a more comfortable perch. But it also captures the just completed window framing below the header, perfectly echoing the slope of the icehouse roof.
Another closeup, gets a little closer to imagining the perspective when standing on the future loft floor.
Icehouse Interior, East elevation gable window (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
Framing East Gable Window
Shortly this aperture will be concealed behind insulated paneling much like the west elevation, but for a fleeting moment longer we can appreciate the natural light entering through the east elevation gable window framing, and we can try to imagine the daybreak view of Lake Champlain, warm sunlight illuminating the north elevation of the main house as it rises up into the summer sky.
A new perspective is emerging as Hroth frames my future office window (from the icehouse loft). Looking east (actually southeast in this photo), this will be my morning view. Panning to the left 10 to 15° the view will be filtered through the enormous American Linden (basswood) tree and across the upper lawn, through the ancient ginkgo tree and across the front lawn to Lake Champlain. (Source: Loft Office View)
Holes in walls. Such rudimentary changes to a building envelope. And yet such profound transformation!
By strategically introducing apertures and maximizing transparency in this small structure we’re endeavoring to dilate the living experience beyond the finite building envelope, to challenge the confines of walls and roof, and when possible and esthetically judicious, to improve porosity with abundant new fenestration, dynamic interior-exterior interplay, subtle but impactful landscaping changes (including a new deck) that will work in concert to amplify the breathability of the interior and temptingly invite insiders outside. (Source: Gable End Window in West Elevation)
The photo below hints at the future porosity of the this space. Imagine the window near bottom right once it is glass.
Icehouse Interior, East elevation gable window (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
Of course, framing in the balcony and eventually adding blisters will shift add interesting layers, shadows, textures, and other nuances to the transparency looking east from within. Perhaps an interior rendering or two will help imagine forward…
Bowtie & Broken Memento, January 25, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Bowtie & Broken Memento: Poem
Amidst broken memento
and fragmented hope,
fractured sculpture
and ruptured carpentry,
a bowtie binds bitter ends.
A patchwork harvest
of homegrown cherry,
felled and milled,
cured and crafted,
offcuts conjoined,
scrappy remnants
sewn in singalong,
cradling conversation,
cutlery, crockery,
and nourishment.
Sun soaked, finger
tipped tenderly,
inadvertently
in thought,
in conversation,
in fast breaking —
the only breaking
the bowtie abides —
there's comforting
contrast and real
reassurance
in an inlaid
joint pulling
the pieces
together.
Bowtie & Broken Memento: Afterward
Sometimes, as I shared with a friend the other day, a hug is more articulate than a hailstorm of words. The same is true with a passing shower, a mist passing over, passing through.
This draft poem is still prenatal. Preliminary. 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.
I reflected on the shell in the photograph above (when still unbroken) in an Instagram post a little over a year ago.
Muscle shell “name tags” for seating arrangement at a wedding reception celebrating Elizabeth — one of Susan’s clever cousins — and Nick in Maine some summers ago. We were invited to keep them, so we did, and they’re now nesting in a maple burl bowl on our morning room table. This beautiful vessel was gifted to us by our friend Pam in memory of her late husband, Bob. He had gathered the burl from a fallen maple at Rosslyn, an immense centenarian, perhaps even a duo-centenarian, that succumbed to a windstorm, nearly striking the house. I watched it fall. Bob had intended to craft the character-rich burl into bowls, but his honorable journey was abbreviated prematurely, suddenly, tragically by the mysterious fates. Pam fulfilled his plans with the help of another friend, Ron Bauer, a local woodworker who built for us the black cherry harvest table upon which this burl bowl rests and where we eat virtually all of our Essex breakfasts and many of our lunches and dinners. Ron turned this bowl, and Pam presented it to us last spring, a year after she lost her husband. So much life and memory and gratitude resident in a few vignetted artifacts, a daily memorial, commingling the stories and characters and nostalgia and beauty that enrich even our most quotidian moments. This is the abundance and texture that invests a poetics of place. This is the “singing underneath”. This is the art of wabi sabi living… — @rosslynredux, October 3, 2021
Today I met with Ron to collaborate on a new table. We talked about bowtie inlays, turning burls into bowls, wood, joinery, and the unique cutting boards he has made for us out of this same cherry that once grew just west of the icehouse and that we gift to some of guests at ADK Oasis.
This evening I will hold in my head the memory of our conversation, a meditation on bowtie joints as well as other acts, art, artifacts that resist fragmentation and fracture. I will dwell on the humble bowtie instead of broken mementos.
A butterfly joint, also called a bow tie, dovetail key, Dutchman joint, or Nakashima joint, is a type of joint or inlay used to hold two or more pieces of woods together. (Source: Wikipedia)
Today was one of *those* days. One step forward, two steps back. Setbacks. Not crises. So we are reminding ourselves…
Dishwasher Delay
Replacement dishwashers were halfway through installation when Susan walked into the kitchen and discovered that they were the wrong units. She was replacing two Fisher and Paykel DishDrawer units (that had started to fail) with Café Dishwasher Drawers.
One Step Forward, Two Steps Back (Photo: Geo Davis)
The service techs were as nice as could be, and their removal of the old units proceeded smoothly enough. Installation of one of the new units proceeded smoothly as well. Except it was stainless steel. The units Susan had ordered were white enamel. Full stop.
One step forward, two steps back.
They removed the new unit and rescheduled for the beginning of next week. Until then, two gaping holes in the kitchen and plenty of hand washing. Which, strangely enough, has been working out quite well.
Ceiling Sheetrock Complete (Photo: Geo Davis)
Shower Stem Setback
In a classic “cart before the horse” scenario, we got out ahead of ourselves with bathroom drywall installation. We actually have very little sheetrock (bathroom ceiling and mechanical room) in the icehouse, and so I’ve been pushing hard to get it off the to-do list in order to move forward with plumbing and tiling and…
Ceiling Sheetrock Incomplete Again (Photo: Geo Davis)
Long story short, today we had to cut out newly installed, taped, and plastered sheetrock in the icehouse bathroom to provide plumbing access for the plumbers to complete installation of the ceiling mounted rain shower.
One step forward, two steps back.
Plumbing complete we can now reinstall sheetrock, etc. And then we can actually cross it off the list.
Paneling Paint Hiccup
Tomorrow we’re excited to begin installing T&G “nickel gap” paneling in the loft. After a couple weeks of offsite preparation — and plenty of anticipation — the first delivery of material arrived from one of the offsite “paint shops” this evening. (We’ve been fortunate that two members of the team have been willing to temporarily prime and paint the lumber in their garages/workshops to help work around on-site space limitations.)
T&G Nickel Gap (Photo: Geo Davis)
Sadly we discovered that the hand brushed finish looked like a rolled finish. Think, texture of an orange peel. For many people that would be fine, ideal even. But given the 1800s historic building we’re rehabilitating, I opted to finish the “nickel gap” paneling with two hand brushed coats of Benjamin Moore paint. Unfortunately we made a compromise to improve efficiency: after hand brushing a stain sealer on knots, we rolled two coats of primer onto the wood before hand painting the finish. Some miscommunication and/or misunderstanding may have gotten baked into the mix, but I’m mostly frustrated not to have made offsite visits to the painting operations earlier on to inspect progress.
T&G Nickel Gap (Photo: Geo Davis)
Tomorrow we’ll install the first wall and then experiment with re-brushing another coat of White Dove onto the wall in the hopes of improving the results. Fingers crossed!
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.)
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!
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!
