Boxes and Barn Doors

I am always struck by how important frames are, visually and virtually, in helping us see. Take this very simple vignette by artist Spy Emerson that caught my eye recently at Flora Grubb, an exceptional garden design nursery in San Francisco.

The wood box — no bottom, just sides — focuses the eye on the blue bottles and the small plants, creating a vivid still life. The rough wood and the way the plants extend beyond the frame reinforce the naturalness of the arrangement. So sometimes thinking inside the box is more important. Flora Grubb is a talented designer/entrepreneur whose sense of composition is especially strong. She is most famous for her dramatic vertical succulent gardens — framed in sturdy boxes like this one

on the patio of her plant gallery. Each of those tiny plants comprising the mosaic grows out of a small soil niche that’s set on a slight diagonal. The frame literally holds everything together while the strong outline contrasting with the busy field of green is visually compelling in its own right. The surprising vertical placement is the clincher, making us look again — and again.

All of this rumination is by way of considering how we design or reinvent the boxes we inhabit and call home. The shape and character of the frame — walls and windows, their depth, height, materiality, proportion, and placement — are the keys to good design. One frame that has always appealed to me is the barn door. I like it because it’s a space saver (no extra feet required for the door swing — I like pocket doors too for the same reason), and it makes the opening simple and dramatic

as in this marvelous house by Turnbull Griffin Haesloop Architects (photo courtesy the architects) where one outside wall opens through a series of elegant contemporary glass barn doors. Here the door becomes a feature in its own right and also disappears as one slides across the other.

It’s a form of architectural magic.  Barn doors always seem to harbor an element of surprise when they’re used indoors, as in this more rustic example  by Johnston Architects of Seattle.

Here they open to reveal the bedroom, as if it’s on stage (photo courtesy Sunset Magazine). In many cases there are latent or obvious references

to real barns with elements like exposed diagonal bracing and expressive hardware. The example above is by Hutker Architects of Falmouth and Vineyard Haven, Massachusetts (photo by Brian Vanden Brink). The rustic aspect can become a signature fetaure and is used to dramatic effect by Faulker Architects of Truckee, California

and seems especially appropriate for a rugged ski country home (photo courtesy Sunset Magazine). There are almost as many examples of sliding barn doors as conventional swing types because almost any solid door can be hung on barn door hardware.

Hardware choices include spoked flat track

(shown above), heftier barn-evocative type

as in this U-shape example, and elaborate stainless steel systems

as shown here. All three tracks are from Barndoor Hardware.com.

Though a very simple architectural element, the barn door — like the box frame — can become a defining feature.

Drawing from Disney

Walt Disney was fascinated with the shaping of space both visually and physically, from the way he transformed the animated film to his invention of the modern theme park. I think architecture was always an important theme for him, like the shiny-bright suburb in the Goofy cartoon Motor Mania of 1950 or the suave contemporary ranch house in the original Parent Trap of 1961. I vividly remember touring Monsanto’s  House of the Future at Disneyland

(image fromYesterland.com) with its curvilinear white plastic pods

cantilevered over a central support and utility podium (Yesterland.com). Though designed not by Disney but by two MIT professors — who must have been channeling Buckminster Fuller

and his similarly central-masted Minimum Dymaxion house of 1929 — Walt had the sense to give the plastic Monsanto house a ten-year lease in Tomorrowland. The swoopy modern  furniture from fifty years ago

still looks contemporary today (Yesterland.com photo)

I was reminded of these images and Disney’s huge influence on design and our appreciation of it when I toured the superb new Walt Disney Family Museum in San Francisco’s Presidio, which opened last week. Two hours flew by. I felt I had stumbled into an animated autobiography, or rather, a compelling four-dimensional biopic.

San Francisco’s Page & Turnbull Architects have deftly inserted the state-of-the-art museum

into an historic 19th century brick row (photo by Cesar Rubio) along the Presidio’s parade ground — which is itself like a distant extension of Disneyland’s own Main Street. From the front there’s no hint of the wonderland within. And at the rear only an elegant glass skin

drawn across an addition (photo by Bruce Damonte) suggests a house of marvels. You experience the museum as a journey through Walt’s life with text blocks, still images, film clips, memorabilia, and narrations by Walt and others every few feet along a carefully choreographed and roughly chronological path. It’s a soft cacophony of sounds and images,  a “dark ride” that you walk, and even then it’s impossible to absorb everything.

Highlights for me are the multi-story “multiplane camera” that allowed Disney  filmmakers to create a realistic sense of depth within animations, the clever elevator that’s designed as a train car (the vertical naturally becomes the horizontal in this Looking Glass world), and the sleek modern terrazzo-and-glass mini-Guggenheim ramp

(image courtesy Walt Disney Family Museum) spiraling around a huge and meticulously detailed scale model of Disneyland.

In one sense it’s all a bit deifying, as if Walt were a latter day King Tut, but — as they say in Egypt — what a cool tomb! And here the hieroglyphics even dance to Silly Symphonies.

Beyond the Casino

I was also in Las Vegas last week, for a talk about Cliff May’s ranch houses at the World Market Center, which is another sort of  “ride.”

Well off the Strip on the north end of town across from City Hall (you can see the Stratosphere Casino tower in the background), this enormous furnishings marketplace is a contemporary landmark in its own right. The complex consists of a series of interpenetrating cubes and polygons that wrap around a 15 story tall central court that’s open to the sky,

like a box canyon from Red Rocks Park  reassembled as a building. It feels like the entrance to Oz. One of the great things about this design center is that it’s open to the general public, not just to professional designers. The Center’s Design Salon

offers consumers the ability to purchase designer furnishings previously offered only to the trade. Complimentary one-hour consultations with interior designers accredited by the American Society of Interior Designers are also offered. It’s a good place to get ideas for shaping or reshaping your home.

A short ride away is the new 180 acre Springs Preserve, Las Vegas’ answer to Tucson’s Living Desert Museum, and built on the site of the original springs for which the city is named (vega means spring in Spanish).

Here’s one of  the rotundas, recalling a sculptural sundial or open cistern. Part of the vast indoor-outdoor complex comprises a  sustainability hall where one gallery has  been turned into a model home — which puts a novel recycling spin on that overworked trademark phrase “what’s done in Vegas stays in Vegas.” One of the most effective exhibits here

simply shows how much water is used in a typical five-minute shower with and without a low flow showerhead. (Nothing about sand baths, however…) Elsewhere in the museum you can experience a simulated desert flash flood (perhaps the other side of sustainability?) which in this case is fun: inside one of the buildings you stand on a metal bridge across a boulder-strewn arroyo and suddenly the water surges around and under you.

So what does it signify, when Disney comes to San Francisco and resource conservation arrives in Las Vegas? That may sound like the resolution of some distant prophecy but I think it means that things are looking up.

In other news, check out Writer Tracey Taylor’s  fine article about about us and affordable home design in the Financial Times! Her website tktaylor.com includes a wide range of stories about design and is a must read.

Kitchen Table or Kitchen Island?

Before the kitchen island, geologically speaking, came the kitchen table. It’s still a viable option for many homes and is often part of a “country kitchen.”  As we saw in a previous post, Julia Child’s 14- by 20-foot kitchen was organized around one that doubled as a work surface. Table choices are many, from an Aaltoesque contemporary birch veneer table

like the Vika Grevska/Vika Oleby by IKEA, to a stainless steel restaurant work table

from Worktable World, to an art and science classroom table

with adjustable legs (to vary the height as needed) from CSN Supply.com, to a wheeled stainless steel example

from Design Within Reach, to a small chopping block

table like the Cherry Cucina Laforza (party of one!) from John Boos & Co. Circular tables tend to require a little more room. You can also create your own table from prefabricated legs and tops available from companies like Tablelegs.com and IKEA.

Island Time

What if you prefer island living? That is, a table that’s built-in. The classic layout of Plan 23-587,

uses the island for food preparation, informal eating,

and storage — with room for cookbooks. (Note that the orientation of the island has been changed in the built example.) In Plan431-1 (below)

architect Greg La Vardera uses a smaller food prep island and a round table.

In both cases the island separates the work area from the more formal dining space; guests or family members can sit at the table or the far side of the island and chat with the cook without getting in the way. In Plan 469-1, the island is two-tiered

to make the separation between work and sitting area more emphatic; the shaded L-shaped tier, which is raised several inches above the work surface, functions as the breakfast bar and hides kitchen clutter from the more formal dining area.

But really, the design possibilities are endless,

as this collage from Trendir shows. So, what island is calling you?

At Home With Nature

We have a lot of granite in our house but it’s not in the kitchen counter: instead there are egg-shaped stones strewn across the mantelpiece and piled elsewhere in baskets and bowls — like hors d’oeuvres from the Pleistocene Era.

My wife is very supportive (er,  long-suffering) and my brother-in-law shares some of this granitic obsession: he once sent me a large and very heavy box. When the mail carrier delivered it he asked me “What have you got in here, rocks?” And of course I had to reply: “Why, yes.”

But in the waning days of summer my thoughts often turn to the seasides and lakeshores where these stones were found, and a little of the vacation feeling returns. I even use one of the rocks as a paperweight on my desk. (I guess it could also be a sort of “writer’s block,” which seems to snowball now and then.) It’s an easy way to incorporate nature — and perhaps even a refreshing Zen moment — into your home.  I am inspired by a painter like Alan Magee, who turns such a simple subject into high art, for example, in his “Convergence” shown below,

which seems to merge painting and sculpture with geology and memory. But I can’t paint so I collect.

Stone and pebble accents in living environments have a long history — just think of the pebble mosaics in some ancient Greek and Roman houses and especially in their communal baths.

This example is from Pella in ancient Greece (Macedonia) courtesy miriam.mollerus at Flickr Creative commons. And by the way, the best book on home life in Roman times that I have read is Fires of Vesuvius: Pompeii Lost and Found (Belknap Press, Harvard, 2008) written with immense verve and a good deal of saucy wit by English classicist Mary Beard. The descriptions of cooking and bathing rituals are especially vivid.

Here’s a somewhat more recent application of the pebble idea: an outdoor shower defined by a wall of pebble stone

tiles from Zation Stone, by Los Angeles designer Justin Davis of True Design Build. (Photo courtesy Sunset.) The tiles enhance the outdoor feeling.

A floor of well grouted stones in the shower

is good for  massaging the feet while you stand under the shower head (example also from Zation Stone).

Stone accents are always possible in the garden, whether as a small Japanesque fountain

like this Natsume basin from Stone Forest, or to support a dramatic fire vessel

from the same company — the big stone has been cleaved in two to form the base for the steel grate.

You can even find a wide variety of pebbles mounted as cabinet and drawer pulls,

like these knobs from Pulls Direct. Or this hook

from Uncommon Goods.

The trick with using rocks as accents is not to overdo it — to suggest nature, not start an avalanche…I guess that would be good advice for me too!

Have another pebble. They’re delicious.

What Makes A Good Kitchen?

Julie and Julia, the new Nora Ephron film from Sony Pictures opening this week, is the perfect excuse for thinking about kitchen design. Julia Child’s kitchen in Cambridge — which she donated to the Smithsonian in 2001 and which was reincarnated for the movie by set decorator Susan Bode Tyson — is all about function, livability, and character. Created originally by Julia and Paul Child in 1961, it’s a space for working and entertaining and is neither period-traditional nor sleekly modern but purposeful and personal. I think it still has an important lesson to teach us: Make your kitchen work for you and not for some architectural dogma or decorative effect. The central table — “comfortable for six, ideal for four,” in Julia’s words, doubles as a work surface. (Photo below courtesy Country Living Magazine)

There’s not a slab of granite or elaborately tiled backsplash in sight! It has a country casual air: blue-green cabinets sport small paintings on some of the fronts while honey-toned wood chairs and trim and a large freestanding butcher’s block add warmth. Pegboard-covered walls put whisks, cleavers, (photo courtesy the Smithsonian blog)

fish-shaped molds and all the pots and pans in a well organized and easy to reach display (still a great idea!). A large  commercial Garland range (photo courtesy Smithsonian website)

dominates one corner with an oven that can hold two roast turkeys. The kitchen is almost without a style: a well-organized collection (think ingredient list!) of disparate objects, work surfaces, and appliances.

So what makes a good kitchen? As Julia says in the Smithsonian’s introduction to her kitchen: “I’m very proud…if I can influence anyone to keep into the kitchen and make it a real family room and part of your life.” I think the answer is, at least partly,  simply a room you can work in and really want to live in. I think Julia’s kitchen is an example of good design that’s not necessarily following an esthetic  rulebook. It just seems right and vividly expresses the personality of its owner.

Some other kitchen examples to whet your appetite: San Francisco interior designer Lou Ann Bauer specializes in color and finish details as well as functional organization.

Here’s one of her designs with trimmed cabinets and a central table; it could almost serve as an update of Julia’s kitchen. In another example she incorporates antique furniture, painted cabinetry, and an English farmhouse sink for a warm eclectic look.

Or if a more strictly contemporary architectural approach fits your taste, consider our Plan 463-1, the Marken LEED Demonstration house by architect Silvia Steurer with Alexander Maurer, where the kitchen incorporates nature.

The spare elegant lines allow the view — shared by work space and dining area — to dominate.

In short, the kitchen is a canvas as well as a platter. Find your room recipe and bring it to life.

For a fascinating article on how we may in fact be cooking less and less — despite the hugely successful cooking shows on television that are the successors to Julia’s pioneering work — see the piece titled “Out of the Kitchen, Onto the Couch” by Michael Pollan in last week’s New York Times Magazine. That might mean that when we do cook, it’s more important than ever. Last night my wife and I sat in the kitchen and tucked into a small cheese souffle that I had made. It was delicious — even if it didn’t rise as high as I would have liked — and we enjoyed it. Merci, Julia.