More good news this morning: the icehouse coving is complete!
It looks so seamless, so simple now that the woodwork is joined, the discrete elements have coalesced, and the paint has dried. Integration. Cohesion. Hurrah!
Coving Complete (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Only a few months ago, this vision — more mirage than meaningful map forward — danced in my imagination. It was a problem to solve, actually a couple of problems, plus the possibility of an elegant if understated solution.
During my recent on-site meetings with the team I discussed a specific twist that needs resolving in order to move forward with coving construction (and tie-rod fabrication). There are ledgers along the north wall and south wall top plates that were installed in 2006 as part of our roof rebuild. All of the rafters land on these ledgers. The rebuilt roof is robust in part because of this interesting workaround, but it creates a 1-1/2” step near the top of the wall that introduces an impediment (or possibly a benefit) for coving construction. Basically, our construction plan (A402, detail 4) does not account for this plane discrepancy. I’m endeavoring to integrate the step structurally into the cove construction. Although this structural element creates an added challenge, I actually think that it might contribute to a pragmatic solution… [However, this] idea doesn’t (yet) integrate electrical, focusing just on structural and finish integration. (Source: Ciphering on Icehouse Coving)
The electrical uncertainty pertained to low voltage lighting that is being concealed above the north and south side coving, gently illuminating the vaulted ceiling and allowing for a shadow line above the coving. (See the coiled wire in the image below?) That installation comes next. Here’s hoping that the results match up with my hopes…
Coving Nearing Completion (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Pieces of the Puzzle
The snapshot directly above and the next one below, offer a glimpse into the carpentry process for fabricating the coving detail. Multiple constituent parts comprise this otherwise subtle, understated design element.
Like pieces of a three-dimensional puzzle finding their companions, the intricate borders, contours, and profiles fuse into a whole. With an ooold structure like this late 19th century icehouse, there’s another challenging. Few, if any, angles are true. Corners are infrequently 90°, walls bow and they’re rarely plumb. So scribing and fine-tuning are constant and critical. Measure, cut, fit, tune, refit, re-tune,…
Coving Nearing Completion (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
But, little by little, headway is made. And, as you can observe in the almost complete coving photo and the post-paint photo below, diverse puzzle pieces pull together and begin to merge. There’s a profoundly rewarding coalescence as heterogeneous components form a homogeneous ensemble. From pieces, emerge a whole.
Coving Nearing Completion (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Doubling Back…
Wait what?!?! How did we get here? What did I miss?
If you’re perplexed with my quasi communion-esque enthusiasm for carpentry-conjoining bits and pieces of wood into architectural poetry, I understand. I offer you my sincere condolences. My peculiar propensity to understand (and communicate) creative processes — and I’m speaking in sweeping, inclusive, and trade androgynous terms from gardening and landscaping to construction and cabinetry, writing and theatre to dance and song — in analogous and overlapping ways. It’s not a bug, it’s a feature!
But let’s double back a beat or three in case the coving journey slipped past unexamined.
Structural integration for coving in the icehouse’s vaulted ceiling area is now complete… wrapping around the north, west, and south walls at the height where ceiling and the north/south walls meet… a new horizontal ledger has been installed and the “shelf” has been fastened underneath. (Source: Icehouse Coving Progress)
From unanticipated challenge to opportunity, from draftsman’s drawing to incongruous field conditions, a carpenter’s quiver need be equipped with *BOTH* skill and art. Fortunately our team is innovative and creative and persistent. Hurdles are chances to share ideas and collaborate on workarounds.
The next step will be to encase the 2x8s with trim (dimensional poplar) that will meet up with T&G nickel gap paneling on the ceiling and walls as shown above. Cove crown will be installed beneath the shelf, and an aluminum track will be installed in the corner of the shelf to secure LED strip lighting. (Source: Icehouse Coving Progress)
Now we’re ready for the strip lighting. Imagine the view below as it will appear once the cove on the right is gently backlit…
Coving Complete (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
With a flicker of fortune, I’ll be posting that update soon!
Start over. Reboot. Reawaken. Rehabilitate. Revitalize… Peppering the pages of Rosslyn Redux, these references to revival and new beginnings are woven intricately into the DNA of this peculiar project.
Start Over (Photo: Herbert Goetsch, Remix: Geo Davis)
Juan Aballe opens Country Fictions up(as featured in Panorama,) by declaring that for years he has searched and imagined a “future in better places where we could start over.” His haunting photographs transport us to remote, rural “regions of the Iberian Peninsula.” Far from Essex, New York.
These words accompany his exhibition.
We leave the city behind travelling for miles and miles, driven by hopes and dreams.
[…]
We pursue a fiction, that of a peaceful rural life. We search for beauty in a landscape where we do not belong, where time seems to have stopped still.
We live our own transition, our fragile utopia, trying to understand what we are doing here and who we are.” Juan Aballe via Panorama
He was inspired, he explains, when friends began to exchange urban for countryside lifestyles. He wondered if under taking the same transition might catalyze for him a chance to start over: “a new life closer to nature.”
There is something universal perhaps in the rural utopian longing, the optimism that exiting a complex urban existence and germinating a fresh beginning in the bucolic countryside will permit us to start over. Then again, perhaps it is not universal. But it is familiar to me. We too longed for renewal, revitalization, a total reboot. That was 2004, 2005, 2006. That was 2004, 2005, 2006. A decade, and a half later we are still rebooting. Perhaps we have become addicted to starting over. Likely my passion for gardening and our appetite for architectural rehabilitation are proof that we live for renewal. Rehab ad infinitum…
Enclosing, I am grateful to Herbert Goetsch, for the dramatic photograph of a dandelion that gave birth to my image at the top of this post. You may find his original photograph here, and you may see his work on Unsplash and Alter Vista.
The past lives on in art and memory, but it is not static: it shifts and changes as the present throws its shadow backwards. — Margaret Drabble
I return today to a recurring theme, a preoccupation perhaps, that wends its way through my Rosslyn ruminations and my collections of photographs and artifacts. While the past lives on, the present riffs, repurposes, and reimagines the past. Adaptive reuse. Upcycling. Reinvention. Art.
Buckle up. Or pour yourself a cocktail…
The Past Lives On: NW Corner of Icehouse and Carriage Barn, September 21, 2021 (Photo: Geo Davis)
NW Corner of Icehouse
Before tripping too far into the wilds of my imagination, let’s root the present inquiry in something a little less abstract, a little more concrete. Like, for example, the northwest corner of the icehouse about a year and a half ago, September 21, 2021. That’s what you see in the photo above as well as those below.
I’ve titled this post, “The Past Lives On”, and if you’ve been with me for any time at all you’re well aware that Rosslyn, the property around which this multimodal inquiry circumnavigates like a drunken sailor, is rooted in the past. And the present. Starting out in the early 1800’s and spanning almost exactly two centuries.
I’ve pilfered the title from the quotation above, ostensibly the perspective of Virginia Woolf filtered through the mind of Margaret Drabble. The broader context for Drabble’s perspective is landscape. Let’s look a little further.
The past lives on in art and memory, but it is not static: it shifts and changes as the present throws its shadow backwards. The landscape also changes, but far more slowly; it is a living link between what we were and what we have become. This is one of the reasons why we feel such a profound and apparently disproportionate anguish when a loved landscape is altered out of recognition; we lose not only a place, but ourselves, a continuity between the shifting phases of our life. — Margaret Drabble, A Writer’s Britain: Landscape in Literature, Thames & Hudson, 1987 (Source: Ken Taylor, “Landscape: Memory and Identity”)
In the photo above I’ve recorded the exterior of the icehouse and adjoining lawn as it has looked since approximately the 1950s which is when we understand that a clay tennis court was built behind the icehouse and carriage barn for the pleasure of Sherwood Inn guests.
Actually, I’m slightly oversimplifying the contours of history. Given what I understand, the clay court was installed for Sherwood Inn patrons, but at some point in the decades since, the court was abandoned. Or at least *mostly* abandoned. The +/-10′ tall wooden posts for an enclosure along the northern end of the court remained until we removed them early in our rehabilitation. And one of the two steel tennis net posts will at long last be removed in about a week when Bob Kaleita returns to tune up the site for hardscaping and landscaping. But a long time ago the clay surface was abandoned and a perfectly flat lawn replaced it. We’ve enjoyed using it as a croquet, bocce, and volleyball court for years.
If you look at the bottom right of the photograph at the top of this post you can see that there’s a topographical bulge in the lawn, sort of a grassy hummock that is crowding the building(s). In the photo below you can again see how the ground is higher than the framing on both buildings.
The Past Lives On: NW Corner of Icehouse and Carriage Barn, September 21, 2021 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Not an ideal situation when organics (lawn, landscaping, etc.) crowd wooden buildings. Unfortunately the tennis court was built above the sills of both buildings, and inauspiciously close. Moisture, snow, and ice buid-up over the decades compromised the structures of both buildings because of this miscalculation.
Today, both buildings have had their framing rehabilitated, and their structural integrity is better than ever. In addition, significant site work last autumn (remember “The art of Dirt Work“?) and again next week is restoring the ground level adjacent to the icehouse and carriage barn to more closely resemble what it likely looked like in the 1800s when both buildings were originally sited and constructed.
A landscape altered. A landscape restored.
A memory recreated with the art of landscaping. The past made present. And yet, not. The new grade has been reimagined as an outdoor recreation and entertaining area not likely resembling the environs a couple hundred years ago. And so it is that the past “shifts and changes as the present throws its shadow backwards”…
The Past Lives On: NW Corner of Icehouse, September 21, 2021 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Present Shadowed Past
What if innocence, in a sense, is less unbiased naïveté than wonder-wander, curiosity, and experiment? Or kneading gray clay dug behind the barn, behind the garden, before the forest (but barely before) after summer rain forty years ago. Stiff and cold at first, loosening with touch, oozing through cupped palms and playful fingers, shapes suggest themselves. Contours and textures echo yesterdays unrecorded and likely forgotten but re-emergent, confections conjured of sodded clay, and curiosity.
The Past Lives On
Indeed, something endures, but rarely should we be confident that we are knowing the past as it was. As it once was. We are informed and perhaps sometimes misinformed by our perspective sometime subsequent to the archival echo we fixate upon. And yet, perhaps allowing for reimagination, adaptive reuse, and even ahistoric reinvention, drawing upon the artifacts and memories we inherit but investing them with whimsy and wonder is one of the best ways of rehabilitating the past. Art from artifacts…
Once upon a time—starting in about 2005 or 2006 and concluding about a dozen years ago, if memory serves—I was on the board on Historic Essex (formerly Essex Community Heritage Organization, ECHO). Todd Goff, a fellow director, Essex neighbor, and friend, took it upon himself to correct me, differentiating for me “historic preservation” from ” from “historic rehabilitation”. I no longer remember the context, but I expect I was updating him in 2006 or 2007 on our progress in the early days of our mushrooming renovation project. Armed with a keen mind (and master’s degree in preservation), I respected Todd’s knowledge and appreciated his clarification. I expect that I used renovation, restoration, and preservation interchangeably in those days, never stopping to consider the profoundly important differences.
I most likely had not used the historic rehabilitation at all prior to that point, and learning more about it opened my eyes, ignited my curiosity, and kindled my imagination. More on fanciful end of the spectrum anon. For now I’d like to delineate for you historic rehabilitation as I understand it. (And please note that if you, like Mr. Goff, are able to advance my instruction, please advise in the comments below. Thanks in advance.)
J.C. Coatsworth Residence (Antique Postcard)
Preservation vs. Rehabilitation
Less stringent than historic preservation, historic rehabilitation emphasizes maintaining the historic integrity of architectural heritage while balancing its relevant functionality for modern day use.
Both preservation and rehabilitation are sensitive to the imperative of preserving the historic character and value of a resource, but modern functionality weighs more heavily in the case or the latter. When an architecturally significant resource is abandoned or in advanced stages of disrepair, both approaches are viable means of saving and revitalizing the resource. Likewise, both can be complex, painstaking, lengthy, and expensive processes. In fact, sometimes the scope exceeds the means and/or justification for revitalizing a property, and all too often valuable architectural and cultural heritage is indefinitely neglected and eventually lost.
The potential for integrating modern functionality (and therefor relevance) into an historic property can be the difference between its recovery or it neglect.
Sherwood Inn (Antique Postcard)
Defining Historic Rehabilitation
Rehabilitation is defined as the act or process of making possible a compatible use for a property through repair, alterations, and additions while preserving those portions or features which convey its historical, cultural, or architectural values. (Source: U.S. National Park Service)
In short, historic rehabilitation (rehab) is the process by which an historic property is returned to a state of usefulness while maintaining its historic character. Starting out with a comprehensive analysis of the cultural and/or architectural heritage ensures a solid foundation for planning the entire rehabilitation process. Drawing upon the collaborative expertise of diverse professionals, rehab must be tailored to the unique character and historic significance. Ranging from minimalist repairs and overdue maintenance to more involved intervention such as modification to ensure structural integrity, installation and/or removal of windows and doors, and even construction of non-historic additions.
Boathouse with Coal Bin on Pier (Antique Postcard)
Rosslyn’s Historic Rehabilitation
From those early days as Rosslyn’s newest stewards, when Susan and I were still running on dreams, optimism, and a totally unrealistic sense for the magnitude of the project we’d undertaken, our twin objectives were to preserve the immense heritage we’d inherited while ensuring that our new home was a functional, energy efficient modern home attuned to our needs and lifestyle. Todd helped me understand that what we were undertaking was indeed an historic rehabilitation, and that paradigm shift that he initiated catalyzed a shift in my thinking not only about our revitalization of these four historic buildings, but indeed the entire ethos underlying our pivot from Manhattan to Essex and own own personal reawakening. But I’m getting ahead of myself…
Boathouse with Ruins of Pier in Foreground (Antique Postcard)
“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 1-2)
Exactly three years ago on June 3, 2015, Old House Journal published an article about Rosslyn. Time for a flashback! Regina Cole’s story and Carolyn Bates’s photographs are entitled, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, and you can find their original article here. (Note: the print edition and the online edition differ slightly.)
If you’re unfamiliar with Old House Journal, — and if you’re renovating or rehabilitating an older home — I recommend both the print magazine and the online website and resources.
This site is the ultimate resource for owners of old houses and period-style homes, gathering information from Old-House Journal, Old-House Interiors, Early Homes, and New Old House. You’ll find inspiration, how-to info and advice, stories and photos of old houses galore and sources for traditional products. Whether you’re restoring your old house or searching for period decor, you’ll find help here. (Source: Old-House Online)
An Insider’s Glimpse
It’s worth noting that the article fumbles a few points here and there, but the gist is mostly on target. And the photographs are amazing!
Like many owners of important old houses, this couple never intended to become stewards of a 2½-storey neoclassical manse that spreads over more than 6,000 square feet. The building was originally just a three-bay, side-hall dwelling, but Rosslyn was expanded between 1835 and 1840 into its symmetrical five-bay configuration. Other buildings on the grounds include several barns and a very adorable, Eastlake-style boathouse added in 1898. (Source: “Beguiled into Stewardship“)
Eek! Adorable? Though my bride and I fell head over heels in love with the Rosslyn’s boathouse (really a “dock house” more than a boathouse) long before we succumbed to the home’s beguiling pull, neither of us would likely describe the quirky lakeside structure as adorable. Too cute, me thinks, for this weathered folly. But I’ll leave that judgment up to you.
A significant rear wing had been added to Rosslyn in the 19th century for domestic services—a kitchen and pantry, etc.—and servants’ quarters. Early in the 20th century, when the house became a hostelry called The Sherwood Inn, that service wing was renovated to accommodate guest lodging, a restaurant, and a tavern. When the inn ceased operation by the early 1960s, most of the rear wing was removed.
George and Susan used its remnant to create a large new family room. For symmetry and better flow, they also added two new wings, one to house a screened porch and one to create circulation between old rooms and new. The boathouse, of course, was a later addition, but its late Victorian style is so charming, they never considered removing it. It has been restored inside and out.
[…]
The front of the house is historic, but the rear had undergone numerous additions and subtractions over the years. George and Susan updated the rear with sensitive additions and a patio surrounded by a stone wall. George rebuilt the old stone walls that surround the property. They built a new fence, basing its design on one found in a Federal pattern book. (Source: “Beguiled into Stewardship“)
Mostly accurate, except I’ll humbly concede credit to others for the handsome stone walls. I did design/redesign/adapt them and figure out how to repurpose old stone salvaged from failed walls and long buried foundations, but virtually all of the heavy lifting was done by others. And we remain extremely grateful for it!
Okay, enough revisionism… On to the article.
“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 3-4)
The opening spread showcases one of the handsome entrance gates designed and built by our friend, Tom Duca. And that interior shot of the front entrance door with side lites and fan lite? That challenging project was meticulously executed by Kevin Boyle.
“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 5-6)
The front parlor and the dining room offer pigmented nostalgia bridges.
The pea green paint in the parlor is a nod to the previous owner whose paint choice perplexed us at first, but grew on us gradually, imperceptibly during our endless renovation. My bride elected to preserve and refresh it while I was away. It was the perfect choice.
And the light blue walls in the dining room recollect the dining room in Maison Margaux, a top-to-bottom renovation I shepherded in Paris’ Faubourg St. Germain.
“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 7-8)
The kitchen and morning room (aka “the north porch”) are principle phases of our daily orbit. No finer way to start the day that breakfasting with songbirds!
“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 9-10)
Griffin, our Labrador Retriever, is the perennially proud protector of Rosslyn in general and our bedroom in particular. From his perch at the end of the bed he can monitor the deer and wild turkeys sneaking snacks from his vegetable garden and orchard. I suppose “protector” might be a mild overstatement.
Heck of a homecoming my frosty ferry ride into Essex two weeks ago on January 25. Damp-cold. Socked in. Snowing. I was dropping in for team time, scope shuffle, timeline tuneup, perspective pivot, and a revitalizing dose of laughter with friends.
Frosty Ferrying (Source: Geo Davis)
Team Time
As I’ve often touted, teamwork is the first, second, and third priority for us today and every day. When our crew is collaborating and collegial, progress is usually swift and morale is buoyant. But when team dynamics falter, for any reason, it’s usually evident even from afar. Headway stalls and morale suffers. But the cause (often) and the remedy (almost always) demand a closer inspection, an immersion in the daily doings and conversations.
So when forward motion on the icehouse rehab began to slow and spirit suffered, it became clear that I needed some hands-on team time to understand and improve the slide. And frankly, swapping video meetings and phone/text threads for in person, sawdust in the air, boots on the snowy ground, chalk line snapping, and overdue discourse dumping was enticing and necessary.
Scope Shuffle
Personnel particulars won’t be part of this post since who does what, when, where, why, and how is Susan and my concern. Teams coalesce around a common cause, and when necessary, teams adapt. Sometimes the cause shifts; sometimes the team shifts. My time at Rosslyn enabled me to ensure a clear understanding of the needed change(s) not just from my geographically challenged perspective, but from the diverse perspectives of the members of the team. What’s going on? What needs to change? Sometimes these reorganizations are awkward and uncomfortable, clarity elusive. But in this case there was broad consensus about what had been hampering progress and what would restore progress.
Within a week of my arrival we remapped the coming weeks and months, shuffled incremental scopes of work, and made a few adjustments to the plan to better account for the new vision (and to accommodate a few tweaks that became clear to me being onsite that hadn’t been so clear in plans and photo/video updates.)
Frosty Ferrying (Source: Geo Davis)
Timeline Tuneup
Today and yesterday I’ve been massaging the new scopes of work into the calendar. Roughly halfway through our start-to-finish timeline in terms of actual months allotted and permissible (October 2022 through May 2023) but less than halfway through the scope and schedule, the days and weeks ahead will require a significant uptick in productivity. For my part, that demands a thoughtful timeline tuneup that makes sense to Pam (project manager), Peter and Eric (carpentry leads), Ben (plumber), Brandon (electrician), and everyone else on the team. It is imminently doable. But careful coordination, clear communication, and steady productivity will be critical.
There’s still some sourcing and sorting to complete. The map forward is apparent, but the individual journeys and when/how they are sequenced is still firming up. In the mean time, collective confidence and enthusiasm appear to be rebounding.
Perspective Pivot
It’s worth noting that a perspective pivot — mine as well as everyone investing their time, expertise, and passion — is actually a really important part of any project. It’s altogether too easy to settle into a pattern, allowing vision and expectations to narrow, simply bumping forward from one day to the next. We all do it sometimes. And yet we all benefit from voluntary and even involuntary disruption that challenges us to think differently, to dilate our our vision, to alter and amplify our expectations. Team dynamics are never static. They can feel static. For a while. Until something disrupts collegiality or workflow.
I’m feeling reinvigorated by what was an unanticipated and unfortunate disruption in our team dynamics. I know that everyone on the team similarly desired and endeavored to avoid the eventual disruption. But the change catalyzed over the last few weeks is dramatic and profoundly positive. Our individual and collective perspective pivots have reawakened our sense of purpose and our confidence in the ability for the team to accomplish the rehab in a timely manner that will make us all proud.
Laughter with Friends
No sojourn to the Adirondack Coast would be complete without at least a few friends gathering. I’d initially tried to limit social time during my stay because the punch-list was ambitious. But the universe has her own ideas, and we’re wise to pay attention. I was reminded how fortunate we are to be part of a community that is thick with good people — smart, creative, cordial, civic minded, and caring — and despite my speedy sojourn I was able to share some meals, cross-country ski, laugh, and catch up with some of the many who enrich our Adirondack life.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/CoZ1pmDAvi_/
Moody Midwinter Mashup
With all the warm-and-fuzzy updates top loaded, it’s time to acknowledge the moody vibes of the video above (if you can’t see it, try loading the URL in a new browser tab). My midwinter mashup isn’t an artistic feat by any estimate, but the black and white sequence, shot for the ferryboat upon approaching Rosslyn’s boathouse on my way from Charlotte to Essex, really does feel like what I was feeling upon arriving. And the less-than-perfect weather conditions emphasized the mood over the first 36-48 hours. Fortunately the weather improved and talk time with the team (and friends) restored the levity I usually associate with a return to Rosslyn. That said, it feels important to acknowledge that it’s not always rainbows and bluebird skies, neither literally, nor metaphorically. Sometimes life shades into shades of gray, and we have to cope, to come together creatively to restore the technicolor lifestyle we love.
Frosty Ferry Crossings
I’ll close with an acknowledgment that a frosty ferry crossing may not be the picture perfect memory that we conjure when relating the joys of community by ferryboat, but I’ve experienced so many meaningful moments just like this. Rainy, snowy, stormy,… The imperfect moments shape us as much as the sunny ones.
Special thanks to Rob Fountain whose February 27, 2015 photograph in the Press Republican deftly captures these sorts of experiences.
With temperatures below zero and a brisk wind, a Lake Champlain Transportation Co. ferry pushes through icy waters heading for Grand Isle, Vt., Tuesday from Cumberland Head. For many cities in the Northeast, it was the coldest February on record, and some places recorded the most days of zero or below temperatures. (Source: Press Republican)
“Once upon a time,” begins the story, the fairytale, the adventure,… It opens a door into the past, gentling the listener or reader into a moment long enough ago to seem harmless but present enough to feel relevant right now. A timeless historic canvas upon which to experience (or compose) a compelling narrative.
Timeless Historic (Source: Geo Davis)
This opening sequence invites the audience to suspend disbelief. Old and new, past and present, actual and possible, historic and confabulatory.
Living History & Timeless Historic
I’m drawn to the juxtaposition of old and new. In many respects rehabilitating Rosslyn and making our life here has blurred past, present, and future. History is alive. And similarly much of our quotidian existence is timeless. There’s a whimsical simultaneity of lives and times that infiltrates our lakeside lifestyle. (Source: Boathouse Illustration Revisited)
Rosslyn invites reinvention. Re-imagination. Rehabilitation and playful, capricious, adaptation.
I’ve come to playfully experiment, sometimes renovating that which is vintage or antique. Others times I accelerate aging. Or agelessness. And sometimes these shifts in perspective yield surprising, often refreshing new experiences. (Source: Boathouse Illustration Revisited)
Within an historic home, design and lifestyle needn’t be frozen in antiquity. Both benefit from compatibility with the building’s historic architectural and aesthetic pedigree. But, I believe, an historic home likewise benefits when vitality and relevance today — contemporary livability, if you will — ensure that the home transcends the status of relic or museum.
At best, an historic home is ageless, not in so far as the authentic historic architecture and design are erased, diminished, or compromised, but the functionality and usability endure. Rosslyn is in so many respects a timeless historic residence because two centuries after construction she remains an optimal platform for our lifestyle.
How and why this is the case remain priority topics for me to explore in greater depth. And I suspect that my formative years at Deerfield Academy in Deerfield Historic Deerfield Massachusetts might underpin some of my instincts in this respect. But I’m meandering afield, so I’ll make a point of revisiting in a separate post.
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…
Much like nature and gardening and the creative arts, construction supplies a wellspring of impermanent perspectives. Perfect fodder for those of us with protean proclivities. Perennial process, or so it sometimes seems, the finished product merely a mirage dancing in the distance.
Impermanent Perspectives (Photo: Geo Davis)
I’ve touched a time or two (or ten?) on my fickle criteria for field note gathering, my quasi chronicling, and my munge-meets-compost creative process. I pretend no historical authority, no architectural acumen, no matrimonial expertise. Just an unabashed curiosity and abiding appetite for adventure and creative exploration. In short, what finds its way into Rosslyn Redux is a bit of a mystery. Even to me!
The experiences these coup d’œil capture are inevitably shaped and edited by my perspective… Shoot for objectivity; settle for subjectivity. (Source: Voyeuristic Glimpses & Mosaic Mirages)
These temporary points of view (POV) — as much a part of rehabilitation as of writing and revising — are one of the highlights, *addictive* highlights, of any construction or reconstruction project.
The photo above and the photo below were taken inside the icehouse mechanical room looking west, through a tangle of framing. A fleetingly photographable point of view…
Impermanent Perspectives: Poem
Impermanent perspectives transient apertures mercurial moments vignettes vary vistas evolve gazing inward into and through a building’s bowels interim point of view through a thicket of studs and stringers headers and plates an ephemeral photo possible now but impossible soon as progress clads walls and risers as progress courts completion
Impermanent Perspectives (Photo: Geo Davis)
These impermanent perspectives intrigue me. Often they provoke second guessing and new ideas. Sometimes they alter the path forward. Though not this time.
Soon the mechanical room wall will be clad in plywood (to provide blocking) and the walls will be paneled and trimmed. The staircase will be finished with risers and treads. A column of balusters will march up the stairs carrying a “brightwork” handrail. This layered look, this filtered view, this multidimensional perspective on the vaulted main room of the icehouse will transition from reality to memory. A few photos. A poem.
Are Icehouse Rehab Updates Achieving Objectives? (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
On October 18 I laid out some goals for my series of icehouse rehab updates. I’d already been posting for about two and a half months at that point, looking in depth at the summer’s deck rebuild. I intended to continue posting for the duration of our adaptive reuse project, transforming a late 19th century icehouse into a 21st century studio+studio+flex entertaining space. Today, about another two and a half months into the journey, I’d like to evaluate whether or not I’m on target. Are my icehouse rehab updates achieving objectives?
Before revisiting the goals, I should note that I’ve neglected the serializing protocol—titling updates with sequential numbers—that I established at the outset. (I think this is only a temporary commission that I will/may update anon to help organize the posts chronologically.) This started when my updates fell out of sync with the calendar weeks which I’d initially used as an organizing principle. And subsequently I began emphasizing the discreet projects and people instead of the chronological sequence. Concurrently chronicling the boathouse gangway added to the confusion and incentivized focusing more narrowly on each notable project and progress milestone. Sorry if this has been confusing. Consider it an act of omission rather than an act of commission.
So, let’s start with my original list of goals.
The idea behind these weekly updates, chronicling our progress on the icehouse rehabilitation project is multifaceted (ie. muddled and evolving.) As I recap the second week, here are few of the underlying objectives:
recognize/celebrate our distributed team (Trello to coordinate, @rosslynredux to showcase, rosslynredux.com to chronicle, etc),
transparently map our rehabilitation process, accounting for the ups and the downs without “airbrushing” the journey (rehab inside out)
document our fourth and final historic rehabilitation project at Rosslyn,
inspire others to undertake similarly ambitious and rewarding rehab adventures, ideally with an eye to adaptive reuse of existing structures,
and leverage this current experience as a way to revisit and reevaluate our previous sixteen years of Rosslyn rehab ad infinitum.
That first bullet point was as much a personal planning memo as anything. Our use of Trello within the team isn’t really particularly relevant to readers, so I’m not sure why I included that. But I did, and we depend heavily on this application for keeping everything in sync; coordinating materials, subcontractors, and deadlines; tracking progress; etc. I’ve been using Trello for years, and it’s difficult to imagine life without it.
Are Icehouse Rehab Updates Achieving Objectives? (Photo: Geo Davis)
As of now I’m pretty pleased with the accomplishment on rosslynredux.com which I’ve succeeded in updating daily (162 days today!) with episodic, voyeuristic glimpses into the day-to-day. Although this chronicle, isn’t an unfiltered tell-all (in part because it would take too much time to record and relate in real time), it’s an attempt to live this project inside out. In other words, it’s an open door and an invitation. So far, so good. And challenge of documenting the progress on several concurrent projects happening at Rosslyn has re-immersed me in the quest—a protracted contemplation on reawakening and revival (domestic/residential and individual/personal) while exploring the role that home plays in this renewal—that I’d allowed the languish in recent years. And so it is that my daily updates are interspersed with reflections on the broader arc of our relationship with Rosslyn, wayward wonderings about the poetics of place, peripheral inquiries into homeness and nesting (and their alternatives), and even a fair share of introspection around how we perceive and remember and recount since I’m made daily aware how differing our experiences of the selfsame events and happening and conversations can be.
And then there is @rosslynredux in Instagram, a whimsical world of eye candy and creative chronicles and inquiring innovators and curious companions all around the world. Although there is much overlap with the website, I often discover a refreshing creative energy on the platform. Many inspiring connections have come out of this vast digital agora, and the encouragement and feedback have been deeply stimulating.
My second bullet above, “transparently map our rehabilitation process, accounting for the ups and the downs without ‘airbrushing’ the journey” has been mostly successful. Over the last five plus months I’ve welcomed a more collaborative creative energy to the project, encouraging others participating directly or indirectly to share their perspective(s). This has largely come with photographs and videos, sometimes words via phone calls, text messages, and emails. I am finding this level of narrative collaboration invigorating, and I’m hoping to encourage more in the weeks ahead. Diversifying the creative ingredients will likely improve transparency. That said, there are inevitable ups and downs on these sorts of projects, these sorts of timelines, and I’ve exercised restraint on several occasions when less filter might have made compelling storytelling but might also have compromised the collegial energy underpinning the many successes to date.
As such the metaphorical “fly on the wall” is more aspirational goal than reality, and the voyeuristic glimpses captured in these blog posts do not pretend to be much more than editorialized field notes. Shoot for objectivity; settle for subjectivity. (Source: Voyeuristic Glimpses & Mosaic Mirages)
In short, I’ve remained an active mediator, determining how much/little of the ups and downs benefit from 100% transparency. That said, this has been the “rehab inside out” that I envisioned at the outset, and it has added a fascinating component to the scope of our current projects.
Are Icehouse Rehab Updates Achieving Objectives? (Photo: Geo Davis)
Proceeding to the third bullet, I’m pleased with the fact that we’re documenting this final historic rehabilitation project at Rosslyn far better than any of the other three buildings. Fortunately I have years of photographs, notes, field notes, audio recordings, etc. that I’m now drawing upon to help fill in some of the “white spaces” in this nearly seventeen year adventure. There’s far too much discourse and brainstorming and troubleshooting to record it all, but I’m collecting plenty of material that I’ll post if/when time allows. I’m eager to show others what this process looks like, what a 16+ year rolling renovation project feels like, and I’m hoping that sharing this experience will also help amplify the idea of home renovation and construction and landscape design and gardening and nesting as creative arts, learning opportunities, and immensely rewarding adventures.
I’ve gotten ahead of myself, rolling right into my fourth bullet. I’ve waxed on elsewhere about the importance of embracing creative risk (especially Carpe Midlife), so I’ll abbreviate for now as the verdict—whether or not I’ve yet inspired anyone—is still out. But I’m endeavoring to immerse readers in the totality of a project like this, capturing some of the million and one small decisions that ultimately define the way everything gradually coalesces into a finished work. I’m genuinely hoping that the cost of creativity will seem paltry in comparison to the mountain of reward. If not, I’ll try harder! And the emphasis on rehabilitation, and repurposing, and upcycling, and adaptive reuse,… these are not intended to be preachy moralizing. Sure, they’re vital in this day and age, but they’re also immensely satisfying. Don’t trust me. Try it out!
My last bullet point is a goal that I’ve already drifted into. Throwing myself into the current rehab and maintenance projects, even as an ideas and oversight participant rather than a hands-on participant has reinvigorated my enthusiasm for Rosslyn Redux manyfold. I’m swimming in documents and artifacts and photographs and notes—sooo many notes—from the last sixteen years of Rosslyn’s rehab ad infinitum (and the life / lifestyle we’ve enjoyed as a result of Rosslyn’s benevolence). I’m attempting to curate the ones worth curating and attempting to dispose of the rest, distilling from a decade and a half journey the parts worth assembling into an exhibit of sorts. It’s a work in progress, and it’s still a daunting distance from any sort of unveiling. But I’m alive with purpose and enthusiasm. And the vision is clearer each day. So, I’m guardedly optimistic that a few more months on this same trajectory and I’ll be ready to articulate clearly and definitely what I’m creating. And why. If only I can maintain the level of acute attention, if I can sustain this peculiar appetite for sifting and collaging and jettisoning the sentimental that too often pervades the true and beautiful bits, then I will have accomplished my biggest goal of all. Let the journey continue to unfold…
Ingredients for Christmas Turkey Dressing (Photo: Geo Davis)
Last night, I enjoyed Christmas dinner, the sequel. No, not the movie. The leftovers. Leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, roasted, butternut squash, all smothered under her blanket of gravy. And for dessert, pumpkin pie, and pecan pie.
And, as you may have predicted, it was delicious. Perhaps even more delicious than the first go round. Have you ever noticed that some meals just taste better the second time around? Hold that thought…
And note that I didn’t mention leftover turkey dressing / stuffing. There’s still plenty of that, but I’m one-and-done with stuffing. I enjoy making it, but after an initial scoop (and a small scoop at that) on Thanksgiving and Christmas, I’m on the the tastier dishes. It’s too filling. Too heavy. Too, well, just less appealing to me, even when drowning in gravy.
Ingredients for Christmas Turkey Dressing (Photo: Geo Davis)
Leftovers
This post is brought to you by leftovers. Yes, the ones crammed into your refrigerator right now. But not just those. Let’s expand our thinking beyond food. I imagine you have all sorts of remainders and vestigial scraps tucked into the nooks and crannies of your home. Junk drawers, closets, garage,… I’m thinking about all of those items (I’ll stick with “items” for now, but fair warning that I’ll soon ask you to consider them “ingredients”) that you could have thrown away but didn’t because you suspected that you’d be able to use them again in the future.
You with me?
Don’t worry, I’m not going to show you photographs of the two ingredients above as they after becoming turning dressing, after being served on Christmas, after getting scooped into a glass container, and after spending some time in the refrigerator. Sure, the turkey dressing is still edible, but it’s decidedly less photogenic at this stage.
But last night while feasting on our Christmas dinner sequel I got to wondering why the leftovers tasted better during their debut. It’s different than stew and soup and even some pasta dishes, all of which seem to hit their stride only after they’ve had some time to rest a while. And maybe it has something to do with the fact that my first experience with this meal followed a morning-until-late-afternoon cooking frenzy. Whereas last night I simply sat down and devoured the goodness.
Leftovers as Ingredients (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Ingredients
This post is *also* brought to you by ingredients. Yes, like the fresh celery and onions above, we joyfully imagine crisp, colorful ingredients bursting with flavor. But poking through the fridge, pushing aside containered leftovers, wondering what in the world to eat, we get a different feeling. Less joyful. More resigned. But sometimes, last night’s dinner for example, we are surprised when we embrace the sequel.
Sometimes we get creative and reimagine the leftovers, decide to experiment with different combinations, different preparations. We cease to think of the leftovers as unfinished extras from the first meal, and we repurpose them as the ingredients for a brand new creation. Remember corn cakes and turkey gravy? Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t.
While overeating Christmas dinner for the second time it struck me how similar edible leftovers and building materials can be. Think of surplus lumber and architectural salvage. They get pushed to the back of the proverbial fridge (in our case, usually one of the outbuildings) in the hopes of one day becoming the ingredients for something relevant and exciting and new.
Leftovers as Ingredients (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Leftovers as Ingredients
You see where I’m going with this?
I’ve repeatedly mentioned that the icehouse rehabilitation is an adaptive reuse project. Transform an obsolete utility building into a useful, relevant multi-use space that adds value to our life at Rosslyn. And, in addition to repurposing this handsome historic building, we have endeavored to repurpose as many surplus building materials and architectural salvage artifacts as reasonable (i.e. functionally and aesthetically viable) in the design and rehabilitation process.
I’ve talked about the repurposed columns and the loft flooring experiment, and I recently celebrated the upcycled coatrack and the antique ice hook (which will be displayed prominently as decor once rehab is complete). I’ve post a couple of updates on our “research” into upcycling garapa decking and re-milling our homegrown lumber into flooring (and other interior millwork). In the weeks and months ahead much of Hroth and Pam’s focus will shift indoors, and I’ll be relating additional opportunities that we’re exploring for repurposing our building leftovers as the raw ingredients for a brand new working and relaxing space that will fuse more than a century’s ingenuity and artifacts into an integrated, cohesive (and hopefully beautiful+charming) space.
As we journey through the icehouse rehabilitation, endeavoring to create relevance and value for leftovers while ensuring that the final result achieves these lofty aspirations of functional and aesthetic integration, cohesion, and attractiveness, brainstorming and collaboration become more and more important. And more and more enjoyable! With such a diverse cast of contributors, I’m hoping that we’ll cross pollinate and evolve ideas that none of us individually would have come up with. Co-creation is sure to conjure out-of-the-box ideas and original solutions that draw upon the diversity of experiences and passions and perspectives. So, please consider this an open invitation to share your suggestions!
Icehouse Foundation Collaboration: concrete truck arrives
Last Friday I gushed that it’d been a monumental week. No hyperbole. Tackling (and completing) Rosslyn’s icehouse foundation was an epic accomplishment, a concrete collaboration conjoining two separate teams to rescue the foundering concrete project. And while Friday’s post was brief, timely-but-abbreviated recognition for the indefatigable individuals who pulled off this remarkable feat, today I’ll show you the step-by-step process from prep work and two separate concrete pours to completion of the icehouse foundation and crawlspace floor. I see this accomplishment as an enduring testament to (and foundation for, excuse the pun) the unique energy fueling Rosslyn’s icehouse rehab, an intrinsically collaborative and transformative revitalization and adaptive reuse project.
Rising from the Ashes
After repeatedly failing to produce a verifiable estimate, timeline, and definitive commitment (ie. a contract), the concrete subcontractor imploded mere days before starting work on the icehouse.
“Bad news,” Pam informed me and then told me she needed to get back to me in a moment. No time for bad news, I thought.
By the time she called me, minutes later, both in-house teams had convened to brainstorm. Given the tight project timeline, they decided to undertake the foundation and slab themselves. This marked a return to the original plan (subsequently discarded in lieu of hiring a concrete contractor in the mistaken assumption that it would streamline and accelerate the project timeline) but with a twist… turning two teams into one. Full pivot!
One team (Pam, Hroth, Tony, Justin, Eric, Matt, Andrew, Bob, Phil, Scott, Brandon, Ben, and others) has been rehab’ing the icehouse, and the other team (Pam, Peter, and Supi) has been rebuilding the boathouse gangway, etc. You read right, Pam is managing both projects. And several other Rosslyn initiatives including our master bedroom balcony re-decking, master bathroom shower tile tune-up, overall property management at Rosslyn, ADK Oasis Highlawn, ADK Oasis Lakeside, and multiple other properties. (Since I can hear you wondering, yes, she’s that good!)
The combined concrete collaboration would be Pam, Peter, Hroth, Supi, and Tony. With everyone coalescing around one specific goal — completing the icehouse concrete as well or better than a dedicated contractor without blowing up the budget or timeline — the objectives were obvious, but so was the potential for challenges and setbacks. Imagine a metaphorical pressure cooker. Top clamped tight. For a week. With zero room for mistakes. And yet, collaboration prevailed despite the inevitable stress.
From layout to excavation to vapor barrier to pinning the old foundation to setting rebar to wiring mesh to pouring initial footings and slab to forming curbs and setting rebar to final pour and stripping… these five came through delivered in a big way. Together they’ve guaranteed a sound, well constructed foundation for Rosslyn’s circa 1889 icehouse rehabilitation. I can report with profound pride and pleasure that it was a total success.
Most of the crew was able to gather on Saturday evening to celebrate their accomplishment, an end result that is in all likelihood superior to what we would’ve wound up with in the first place. Sometimes setbacks are actually the inspiration to regroup, reboot, and outperform original expectations. Sometimes fiasco fans the fires of triumph. Sometimes the phoenix rises from the ashes.
Video Mashup of Concrete Collaboration
If you’d prefer the quick zip through, then this video mashup is for you.
Thanks to Pam, Hroth, and Tony for recording the photos and videos featured in this video mashup!
Photo Essay of Concrete Collaboration
Okay, now it’s time for the photo essay chronicling the step-by-step progress and the series of accomplishments made possible by the collaboration of Pam, Peter, Hroth, Supi, and Tony.
Icehouse Foundation: installing vapor barrier
Icehouse Foundation: Supi and Tony install vapor barrier
Icehouse Foundation: Supi and Tony install vapor barrier
Icehouse Foundation: Peter bending rebar
Icehouse Foundation: Peter bending rebar
Icehouse Foundation: installing rebar for footers
Icehouse Foundation: Hroth, Peter, and Supi awaiting concrete
Icehouse Foundation: rebar and remesh ready for concrete
Icehouse Foundation: Peter, Hroth, and Supi ready for concrete
Icehouse Foundation: Hroth, Peter, Tony, and Supi pulling concrete
Icehouse Foundation: Hroth, Peter, and Tony pulling concrete
Icehouse Foundation: Supi screeding concrete, Hroth and Peter pulling concrete
Icehouse Foundation: Tony, Hroth, Peter, and Supi pulling concrete
Icehouse Foundation: Supi screeding concrete; Peter, Hroth, and Tony pulling concrete
Icehouse Foundation: Supi floating concrete; Peter pulling concrete; Hroth supervising
Icehouse Foundation: first pour curing
Icehouse Foundation: Supi doweling curb rebar into green slab
Icehouse Foundation: building forms for second pour
Icehouse Foundation: building forms for second pour
Icehouse Foundation: building forms for second pour
Icehouse Foundation: building forms for second pour
Icehouse Foundation: forms ready for second pour
Icehouse Foundation: forms ready for second pour
Icehouse Foundation: forms ready for second pour
Icehouse Foundation: dowels, rebar, and forms ready for second pour
Icehouse Foundation: Peter and Supi pouring curb
Icehouse Foundation: Supi vibrating concrete
Icehouse Foundation: green concrete setting up; j-bolts installed
Icehouse Foundation: foundation stripped and curing
Icehouse Foundation: foundation stripped and curing
Icehouse Foundation: foundation stripped and curing
Icehouse Foundation: foundation stripped and curing
Icehouse Foundation: concrete curing
Thanks to Pam, Hroth, and Tony for recording the photos featured in this photo essay
