Classic Lines are Timeless

Led by the tour guide through the large, double wood paneled front doors shaded by the porch, the group entered the entry hall. The hall was much wider than anticipated, more like a room with a stair case right before you, along one side. The oohs and aahs could be heard under many of their breaths while they scanned every detail of the space. “You couldn’t get that today,” one said. The ceiling was very high; it had to be at least 12 feet. Framed by crown adornments, formed of intricately detailed cast plaster, you could see where a few pieces had broken off to posterity.  The darkened heart pine floor creaked as everyone moved to the center, below the balustrade running diagonally above their heads. With envy, a comment came from one woman, “this hall is as wide as my living room!” The tour guide was quick to respond that it was used that way at certain times of the year. Another double doorway entrance at the other end of the hall had been opened to which a breeze swirled its way through. This was the dog trot incorporated into homes so as to capture the winds. The hallway was used very much as a central living and entertaining space where an evening breeze could be felt to cool you from the day’s heat.

The other rooms of the home were directly off of this space, utilizing two of the outside walls and a corner of the house. Large, very tall windows, adjacent the front porch, were large enough to walk through once the sash were raised. The fire place on the adjacent wall was flanked by the other windows and just as tall. The shape of the room was simple, large and adorned with hand hewn details around every opening. Paneled doors, also of heart pine, stood tall to match the windows and high ceilings. The same crown treatments from the hallway framed these too. A cross breeze could be felt from the open windows accented with a light bouquet of a daffodil and wisteria accent permeating from the gardens.

It was spring and the time the azaleas would also begin their blooming. Attracted like bees to nectar, the tourists came from all over to see what once and still was a memorable sight. The tour of homes on those plantations, farm homes, the family house, would commence a following of people every year. You could see that these simple but elegant homes held a magnetism unto themselves that could not be explained. The tour guide was just there to show them off and make sure no one broke anything, directing the tourists on their designated path. They thought people just like seeing history.  But once all had passed through to see what they could in the way of the old antique beds, tables and chairs, an emotion of attachment remained. The tourist, old home enthusiasts, would still   long to have something like that for their own.

Older homes provide a simple lesson that we can engage, feel, and learn about in the design of rooms and space. It is something that can be applied even to a modern environment, a message that is timeless.  These spaces described above were actually from old homes as assembled memories from a legacy of preservation, restoration projects, all as learning tools. But, the less than straightforward essence is just in the shear simplicity of those spaces. They are easy to understand with uncomplicated lines; never the cliff hanger formations of a rock face with endless lines moving in all directions.

There is a part of human nature that is demonstrated by our desire to engage restful environments. Our desire for intimacy is satisfied the moment we comprehend boundaries. Regardless of how big a space may be, there is assurance knowing, seeing, and feeling our relationship of where we are in that place. Therein, comfort is gained in simple lines that move the eye without jarring the mind in that discovery. So a rectilinear (or elliptical if you like) room with plainness of line by no means is boring and will remain eternal, a satisfying, contemporary classic forever.

Do You Know Where You Are Going?

Well, where is the door? How do you get in? Where do you go? Yep you guessed it, I think. To not know where you are going is about one of the worst feelings a person can have. Some of us just “go with the flow;” that is if there is a flow. We drive around and around in our cars, looking for something that will guide us to our destination. Funny how water towers, church steeples, gas stations, points of references, all help to determine what direction to take and reach our “are-we-there-yet” destinations. The frustrations of this process are always reduced with the use of a map or the GPS these days. We just want to know where to go to reach our goals. Therefore, in good architectural design, creating these guide posts or elements of any kind to help direct us is essential.

The front door, when approaching a house is the first element to establish our way finding. The placement of the entrance is crucial. This defines one of the most important references we have to who we are socially. It is our branding so to speak. Is it more recognizable or does the garage door take president? How unfortunate with so many homes that have been built place the garage door as the most important feature. This said, I suppose how many cars we own is more important as to how to define to others what our home is about. The front door is an after thought, secondary, and we really don’t want anyone to visit as they search for the welcome mat.

The front door can be placed front and center, off to the side, but the front door defines entry and should be celebrated with whatever accoutrement we can put to it. A front porch is always great to provide shelter, a way station before we enter. A pediment, you know those triangular shaped architectural adornments usually held up visually by columns or pilasters and an architrave will bring attention to the door. Add a few side lights and viola, we have defined entrance. Direct the visitor’s attention with pathways, landscaping and lighting at night.

Let’s look especially at a view of a house which has more than one door to understand also the importance of clarity. The design is to tell people this is the one “we will welcome you”. In memory of a house attended for a reception, it had three arched top French doors, side by side, as the front door. The most interesting aspect of this was how visitors would hesitate as to which door to open. It didn’t matter, you still came into the same space, but it created a moment of disconcerted confusion, the ”I’m not sure” moment of hesitation.  All it took was to incorporate some feature, visual signals that would set the middle set apart to make one sure and leave no doubt. Maybe just a different use of textured or colored glass would be all that they needed.

How pathways are organized inside a home is the second element which defines a clear direction. Pathways should respect, facilitate and incorporate the hierarchy of spaces from public to private. They should give us no doubt as to where we need to go or where we should not go. The word flow is has been coined by many in this regards. Like several sets of glass doors in a living room, adjacent the next outdoor loggia creates flow. They draw your eye to views beyond, connecting the two defined spaces functionally.

We Are Protected

There is an aspect to human nature that becomes apparent when people gather at a table in a restaurant. Some of those in the party will invariably sit facing the door. They want to see who is coming in the door or who may be approaching the table from the entrance. They recognize that there is an unsettling feeling when someone comes up from behind and enters our space. Friendly or not as those visitors may be, you feel unprepared as to knowing who it is that has tapped you on the shoulder to say hello. This instinct runs true for many applications; the restaurant is one of the best locations to describe a manifestation of our innate feelings.

So let’s say we move out into a field for a picnic. During summer months, first instinct would be to find a tree to sit beneath for shelter from the sun. It is our canopy above. The tree provides a place, our space to relax and lean against as we view the panorama. It becomes a memorable place much more so if we were out in the middle in the sun wiping away the sweat wishing you had brought the damn folding chair to sit in at least. The tree presents the most fundamental opportunity for a sense of a protected back.

Now, let’s place ourselves in a café along a street. The majority of people who will take that table will turn their attention to the street. People-watching of course is the primary initiative. That also places them with their backs to a wall quite often, studying, staring without detection. Many a café will provide a canopy above to protect the space during inclement weather.  Planters placed around the perimeter, no higher than seated eye level or above the table, also define the café space. A real sense of comfort is obtained. You are protected to your back, from above, and there is a clear defined space of where you sit and pedestrians walk. The space no longer is a vast expanse of volume for us to make sure no one is watching us from all around. It is one of an intimacy for our position with an experience of security.

This same principal can also apply to a home in the design for the rear patio, porch, veranda, or loggia. In the south we have a need for multi functional areas outside for ourselves. Covered space is great to be protected from the hot sun or rain. Open, uncovered space is great for getting that sun tan next to the water feature or getting warm in the chilled spring and fall seasons. Regardless, all of these opportunities to overlook the garden’s features beyond, a defined space is the common link that makes these functions feel intimate and secure. It is that view outward, with the protected sides we will always feel more comfortable. Even if there is nothing more than a pergola to provide a structure overhead and planters to our sides, a comfort zone is defined. We can see out to the expanses of views, all framed in celebration of those beautiful azaleas.

There is one last place to reflect upon. That is the Japanese tea house. These are places defined by ritual and nature, the icons of our symbiotic connection to the earth, architecture, and to one another. You enter from a walkway of varying textures and changing directions, transitioning us to the doorway platform to remove our shoes. The head of the door is placed lower than head height. This requires a person to bow in respect to the space for which they are entering. The placement of the tea house becomes apparent as a window slides open framing the view beyond revealing the relationship to its surroundings. The window forces us to rest with it set at seated height so that there is a view to the memorable gardens. Made up of a miniaturized reflection in nature, the sight line is celebrated like that of a framed painting. Set in a defined space, a person engages and honors the desire for an intimate connection as the tea is prepared, served and enhanced by the world beyond.

With all of the places I have described, a question arises, why then is one place more memorable than another? Why do we love them so much or more than others? To answer, we enjoy the feeling of an embrace; so then architecture must follow suit. It is with these places that accomplish an enduring image in our memories, like as a child being held with love by a mother, we look out to the world with a secured comfort knowing we are protected.

An Intimate Patio Garden

The Heart of the Home.

Residence in Seal Harbor, Maine

The Heart of the Home.

The east window allowed morning sun to stream into the kitchen and feed the plants on the shelves with the warming light, best light of the day for violets. The kitchen table sat here at the end of the room. It sat eight in a pinch, mostly six. We would come to visit for a long weekend or at holidays, and it would be here that the day began. Having breakfast with home made biscuits, country ham, and scrabbled eggs, and of course coffee for the adults at my grandmother’s mother’s old table was always surrounded with joy in that small kitchen.

The sink looked out through a large window to the north with plate wracks to your right beneath the cabinets. Next to the sink was the marble topped counter. Always cold and lightly dusted with remnants of flour around the edges, this was where the preparation of the biscuits would begin. Below was the cabinet for the flour, baking powder; a pull out drawer made that process fast and easy to grab the sifter, bowls to start the mixing. The shortening came next with that touch of buttermilk. This was the baking station.

Behind you, cattycorner to the sink was the range and oven. You could still see up high on the wall the hole covered by a late tin sheet to hide where the stove pipe once penetrated. It was a modern oven, newest one you could get in 1950; gas fired. The flame on the stove was sure and true, easy to control the heat. That oven would have been already fired up to 400 degrees to begin the preheating for baking and to warm the kitchen in a winter’s day.

I was always up early to see what all was going on in there. Promptly put to work cutting in the circles from the lightly rolled out dough, I was always anxious for that first buttery biscuit. We would place the dough on the baking sheets and carefully place them into the oven. Moving over to the table to be put now out of the way while other activities occurred, like adults getting themselves that first coffee. As I sat under the violets and begonias admiring the marble and pottery bird embellishments in each pot, I would be queried as to how school was going or was I ready for Santa to come.

With this memory, you begin to feel the essence of what kitchens are about and need to sustain a real living functionality and presents. The east window, the table and chairs, provide that location where we of course eat, but also to socialize. It is the place where one goes to wait, re-review that recipe to be sure we have everything included; verify the baking temperature and time. The table is that place where we need that moment of repose, to stop and recollect our methods, but to also have that place to discuss the momentary and future happenings. Who died lately, how was your trip, what all have you been up to are among the questions of what the kitchen table would insight. Basically we need by human nature that kind of place.

Of course, we cannot neglect the kitchen. It is for preparation of food to be cooked and whirled into our creations, but it is the place where family gathers. In our modernity, back to the future, it has become the gathering place for everyone, including our quests. Cooking is theater and fun to watch. It is how we communicate with gastronomical socialization. We all want to help paint the fence with Huck, so in turn we want to be actors in the play, so give everyone a comfortable place to perform.

That is done through establishing work stations in our designs. Of course there is the prep at the sink, the cooking and as recognized, a baking station with that stone top to keep the shortening or butter cold for flaky baking results. It should be near the oven. The objective basically is to prevent the overlap of persons working and bumping into each other (or tripping over the oven door when open). Our kitchens have become a nucleus of orchestrated activities with many performers and stage hands to help.

A central island with seating has become a more modern manifestation of the kitchen table, the first stage. Additionally, here we can wash and prep, and cook as an alternate. I prefer the wash and prep since that is what we do the most as a group function. The sink here directs our views out to the audience and open areas. Islands are for serving and then later for cleaning, receiving those dirty dishes. The island is where we spend most of our time as compared to the cooking, which is mostly done by few individuals. The perfect way station they have become.

Nearby, the refrigerator is for storage, but also for quests to help prepare the water with ice or be near a secondary sink as a bar at the end of the island to supply our libations. This is the best location to organize the silverware and table linens in drawers below. It is where food can be brought out ready to go to the buffet. The refrigerator is not so critical of being close to the other work stations. It works well to be more removed as the quest’s station and the place to prepare the preferred refreshment for the cook(s).

The kitchen once was the place for the servants or to hide the mess from our guest. It was separated with great intention. Not any more in today’s world; socially, the very heart of the home is there in the kitchen. So surround the kitchen with the other areas, opening up to dinning, keeping (sitting) room, television, and dens, so that we all may see what is going on. Get you a cup of coffee and have a seat. Speak to each other in conversations of the day, check the plants for water, and gather as we perform the quintessential acts of our lively hearts.

Fiar Oaks District, Selma, Alabama

Selma, Alabama has to its name a very rich history preserved in its architecture. When it comes to the quintessence of community, my first thought goes to the Fair Oaks district. Made up of mostly late 1800 to early 1900 homes, Neo-Classical, Italianate, and Victorian homes, there is a constant vocabulary here which binds the variety together into a consistent, cohesive neighborhood. That element is defined by the porches and the proximity of the houses to the street.

The front porches are far enough away from the street that one would have a small yard surrounded by a fence of some kind, quire often of cast iron. However, they were close enough so that someone could speak to a passer-by or keep an eye on those coming and going next door while seated in a wicker chair and settee.  The porches are deep enough, at least 8 feet, to allow a table and chairs to be placed there and still walk around. So much time was spent here to escape the heat of the house and hopefully catch an afternoon breeze.

The grid streets are wider than expected, such to accommodate a horse and buggy parked out front, lining both sides and still allowing the traffic to pass with two lanes in the middle. A stretch of landscape possibility, with a sidewalk lined the streets, creating that line of demarcation between outdoor public areas and ones low fence at the property line with a gate. The sidewalks consisted of pavers, some as old as the first streets. A person on the porch feels that sense of separation from the street, protected, but still connected by talking distance.

I have already discussed the significance of what a porch does to protect the entrance and provide and invitation to knock or ring the door bell to the visitor. It is that place where we come to get out of the rain while we fish for our keys. They provide a comforted transition between outside to the inside realms. Even if it is nothing more than a small stoop, a covered rest spot large enough for several to stand comfortably, it will always establish a feeling of “welcome to my home”.

To the rear of the houses are the back porches. They represented the private areas of the home, sometimes being two stories to accommodate the bedrooms on the second floor. Many times later made into a screened sleeping porch where one could set up and sleep in cooler air during the summers. Below to the rear of the house was where the cooking was done. Many preparations of food would begin here, shelling peas, cleaning corn, dressing a fish. Both levels would be connected by an outdoor stair considering how they were used to facilitate services to the bedrooms. These porches often overlooked a rear garden. So meticulously kept with brick paving for walks often you would find a cast iron fountain surrounded by ferns. Here too you would find the underground brick cistern for capturing rain water. All shaded by several oaks, these trees’ shade was a necessity to block the suns heat.

On an occasion one year I was invited to a porch party on Porch Day sometime around 1996. This was a community wide observance, a yearly celebration of meeting all the neighbors around, going from porch to porch, and having a party at every stop. Everyone was invited to stop by. These people intrinsically understood just how significant a porch was to the definition of community. Reflecting on Selma always instills in me the desire to pass this pattern of living along to the next generation. Never to loose aspects of a traditional context, has which transcended time. Community is so much greater. Capturing these enriching architectural expression makes for enduring places, I will always wish to return.

So Have You Selected A Site?

   A primary element of architecture is its embracement of the environment in which we experience. The surrounding lay of the land, the trees, vegetation, mean temperatures, average rain fall, possible natural water resources, and the longitude of the sun, all have a direct impact on how a home should be designed. A home is just not that which is made to function inside.

    The second thing I always ask of a client is “Have you selected a site?” In most cases, they have found a site for which they have already purchased. Something then I have to work with to determine what will be the best design and weigh all factors, allowing some to become compromised. Which is more important, the front door facing the street or to have the sun properly warm and light the interior is a good example.

    In other cases, the client has come to me with the idea of building a home, but has not selected the exact location. Oh how I wish that could be what happens all the time. It is in these situations that I can guide them to what would be the optimum site. Taking full advantage of the environment, guides the architect and owner together to create the best design. Basically, together we find the best lot to buy or the best location on a larger property to design towards.

    I begin by meeting the client at the site and give them a compass to determine where north and south is set to wherever we are standing at any given time. I usually try to get them to go in the mornings. The sun then is low to the southeast. We locate the types of trees to determine the location of evergreens and deciduous varieties. We look at the lay of the land to determine the slope and most wonderful views. So what is the optimum  you can have? A south face on a downward slope with deciduous trees to the east and evergreens to the west (if we are in the Deep South), all looking out over some type of beautiful scenery towards the south is the goal.

    The logic is that the primary living areas of a home like the family rooms, dining areas and the kitchen (but it set at the south east corner) is best oriented towards a southern exposure. The sun light will fill these areas, warming them during the winter months. An east window exposure for the kitchen provides light to get around first thing in the morning. During the summer months, trees to the east and west shade the home from too much warming. Additionally, overhangs protects against too much sun with higher sun angles. Covered porches work best with west exposures as well to shade the house from too much heat, but to provide warmth while we enjoy the outside.

    The most public location of a home is at the front door. Here we greet our guests, shake hands, hug, grab coats, shake off an umbrella, and wave to neighbors passing by. To support these activities a porch provides a shelter, like a hand reaching out to give us comfort and a moment of repose. It is the transition point that separates us so as to soften the impact of going in or out. The porch with a foyer, entrance hall, kept to the north pushes these public spaces away from our next realms of semipublic space, the living areas described previously.

    The principal here is we by nature enjoy transitions from one space to another establishing a hierarchy of privacy levels. Public, semipublic, semi private to then private are these levels. So to eliminate abrupt changes in our experiences, transitions allow us organized how we move through a house and protect our most private of areas at the same time. All of this relates as well to how the sun illuminates and can heat our movements.

    Given that a home is the highest expression of oneself, your brand, involving an architect in the journey of building a home is crucial to achieving the best results. Even if it is only to help you know what makes for the best place to site the house, our guidance will only enrich the results. Here’s to a long and happy life.

The Kitchen’s Light

With all introductions as an architect, I design homes for all budgets. Regardless of budget, the most central element to a quality design is the incorporation of natural light. It is human nature that we desire, seek it out, bringing us well being. Light organizes and establishes how and when we complete each day. I could show you so many different applications; I can’t talk about them all today. However, I am going to focus on a reflection of how natural light played for a dearly loved grandmother.

As a child, I would spend Friday nights with the grandparents at their home so that my mother and father could enjoy their evening. Then Saturday morning, there I was ready to watch cartoons very early in the den next to the kitchen. The sun, streaming into the kitchen windows facing the east, contributed to the warmth of that first cup of coffee pursued by my grandmother and grandfather.  Soon after breakfast, they would take me along to the market. On many occasions, there was a purchase of peas, unshelled of course, by the bushel.

As the day progressed, to prepare for dinner that night, I was put to work shelling those peas along side my grandmother out on the porch. You could reach it from the kitchen breakfast table area at the rear of the house. It faced west and it overlooked the prideful garden of camellias and azaleas under the pine trees. With enameled metal bowls in our laps, gentle conversation, and greened figures, we would reach into the basket to get more to shell, filling the bowls up so meticulously to not loose one pea. The sun setting here was always so glorious, warming us before heading back to the kitchen to check how the roast was doing and prepare those peas for the salted fat back bath.

The first question I always ask of a client when designing their home is, “Are you an early riser and enjoy seeing the sun rise?”  If so, the kitchen will have that morning sun exposure to light your way to the coffee pot and hopefully a porch to the west overlooking the garden.

Hello world!

Architecture became my career because I have a talent for understanding form, space, light, and process.  My father, being the architect and civil engineer that he was, happen to also be talented in watercolors.  At a very young age, he taught me his painting skills, planting the seed for my desire to explore art. He exposed me to architecture as I was older. So, I decided to pursue both.  Therein, my art combines the intuition of an inner self and the influences of architecture. My architecture relies upon human nature to enrich poeples lives through design. 

To be good in architecture you have to perceive space, not strictly as enhancing a volume to contain, but as something that directly affects the user psychologically through time. We experience space by an action of moving within or through it. Therein, time can be slowed down, sped up, or stopped to manipulate how a space is made apparent. With light, for example, is one of our most powerful means of manipulating the movement process. Architects are the sculptors of space and form, but also the weavers of enhanced experiences.

 My artwork is surreal, creating a representation of the subconscious mind through fantastic imagery that pursues symbolism of our spiritual connections. With my intuitive character, my work is guided by spontaneity, expressing a sensual and abstractive language. The work expresses space as form, two dimensionally, like an architect, while implanting an idiom of time through movement. My thinking is that of a camera, capturing that instant feeling of the wind against ones face. I also have a website, here you may view my artwork… www.durandseay.com .

Herewith, my goal here is to present prespectives of architecture from a view derived from human nature and our relationships to the enviroment.  There may even be a few cooking recipes thrown in as well, but as a vehicle of telling a story.