Do you ever look at the front of the house and see a face? We do. It often makes us laugh because we can’t help imagining a person with the same expression on their face.
If you start looking for it, you’ll probably see faces and laugh, too.
It just goes to show you that houses are an extension of ourselves.
At 11,000 feet up and 16 miles of rugged terrain away, one’s notion of shelter is significantly altered.
Door, wall, window, roof, and floor become minimal diaphanous membranes between inside and out.
It rains, snows, and hails. The sun shines fiercely, clearly and bright. A cloud or shadow changes the temperature by several degrees in an instant.
At 11,000 feet up and 16 miles away we recognize that shelter starts at the skin. Bumps, burns, scrapes, blisters and tears take on far greater seriousness.
Shelter is built layer by layer away from our bodies. It protects us and brings us together under one “roof”. And then we realize we need to get along with each other.
Ultimately, we are all under one, great, sheltering sky.
Turning
It doesn’t have to be only a dream… it can be real.
It takes a plan.
It takes a lot of work.
It takes hope.
It becomes real… by making it real.
Each of us has a part to play in transforming dreams into reality.
We need each other.
Sometimes when I think of facades, I think of Wild West Town, movie and stage sets, a representation of something that isn’t real, something to hide behind, something only skin deep.
In architecture the term “façade” refers to the face of the building, it is what the world sees. But if it is only skin deep, we can only take it at face value and hope for the best.
Architecture is a 4-dimensional thing. It lives in three dimensions over time. We should be far less concerned with the façade than in the substance of the work. How does the building greet a person? How is one welcomed in? Is there a comfortable proportion to the space? How does it make us feel?
In the end, architecture is for the benefit of people. It should help them feel whole and safe and well. It should support their emotions and draw out their best natures. It should be a refuge and a playground. Architecture should foster our productivity and creativity. It should be our sanctuary and our nest.
Move beyond the facade. Seek authenticity.
We can be heroes
We’re hearing a lot these days about heroes. Every bit of it is true. On a regular day they do their ordinary work. These days their work has become extraordinary. Our sense of gratitude is warranted. Without them our society would cease to function.
We can be heroes.
Many of us are feeling hopeless and helpless. We’re frustrated and fearful. We might even feel guilty.
How can sheltering actually be doing any good? we ask ourselves.
But by now we know. We know how to take care. And when we say “take care” there’s a bit more substance behind our words. We care more, we mean it more.
We have taken shelter where, and how, and if, we can. And we hope that by giving up graduations, weddings, funerals, worship, school, work and so many other good things, we can somehow give our heroes a chance to manage better, even as their work becomes riskier.
Taking shelter is an essential human need. Like food, water, air, and clothing it is very hard to live without. Without shelter we lose some of our humanity. But when we are able to shelter in the place we call Home, it restores us and recharges us for whatever we do next.
If we are fortunate, it is good for us to be grateful for security and comfort and also for our community. It is because we can take shelter, that we can also take care of one another. We can be charitable and kind, we can entertain and provide for each other.
Look for ways to look after one another, even the small ways. Then, do it, without expectation of return. Do it to restore and recharge your community, it will also restore and recharge you.
You are a hero, too.
Fortunately, they are not square, our feet. Imagine our shoes. Instead of finely crafted and contoured leather or carefully engineered performance synthetics, our shoes would be more like shoe boxes, if we had square feet.
But we don’t. Our feet, like our hands and limbs, torso, head and heart are perfectly developed to support us in our days and nights. Square feet would be a poor measure of the quality of our lives.
Buildings are often measured using square feet. It is a quantitative value, but not much more. Square feet can tell you the general size, but can’t possibly describe quality.
As architects we are often asked how many square feet our design is. Off the top of our heads, we don’t know, but it’s easy to find out.
When we design, we are far more interested in values that support, sustain, and enrich lives. Size is truly less important than the many other qualities that a building provides.
Are the spaces designed well for their purposes? Are the purposes arranged in a logical or natural manner? Is there a generous amount of daylight and fresh air? Is it comfortable to be in the space? Are the materials healthful and pleasing? Does the way the building is composed and oriented make living easier, better and more beautiful? Do you feel good being there?
Take off your shoes and walk around in your socks. Measure where you live with your heart.
What is Good Design?
Good Design is some thing that does what it is supposed to do, does it well, does it beautifully, is durable, long lasting, and continues to be relevant over years and use.
Good Design is some thing that transcends style or trend and endures to continue to effectively serve its purpose.
Good design is worth stretching for.
Good Design returns long-term value.
We live in an old house. Over our many years here the roof has leaked, the windows were drafty, there were rodents and bugs, the water pipe froze, the sewer backed up, various pieces of equipment wore out. So we applied our resources as needed to make the house better and keep it working.
But it is not those things that make our house so wonderful. Our house was well designed at the outset. The rooms are nicely proportioned, they are in good relation to each other, there is good distribution of natural light and air, the structure is sound, the materials are durable and beautiful, and it is a handsome building. It was created thoughtfully.
When we remodeled and added space, we strove to respect the beautiful and good things about the house. At the same time, some parts of the original house were designed for a different way of living, like the kitchen and bathrooms. And we needed a few more rooms to support our growing family.
Even so, we didn’t end up with some of the things that a realtor might expect such as a master suite or a two car garage or a separate family room. Instead we have a home that suits our needs and desires, is a natural outgrowth of its original beauty, and one that some future family will enjoy and make their own.
It is far better to live in a house that we love and that suits our lives than it is to live in someone else’s idea of what a house should be. Our house is perfect, just the way we’ve made it.