Finding Inspiration in Old Houses

Abandoned by tracks Abandoned on tree-lined street Abandoned near school

I know that I am not alone in my admiration of old houses, even abandoned ones. I once read an article about a lady who renovated an old house. She said she always knew that she would one day be the caretaker of that old house, and she added that not a day went by that she didn't thank the universe for letting her tend to it. I loved the way that she described her feelings. I loved her description because it affirmed what I so often feel for old houses, which is not to say that I have any delusions that I can rescue every house whose path I cross. I sometimes worry in fact that I've already cut a few years off of my life tending to the two I've owned so far.

I would like to add to what that lady said though. Houses do speak to me. When I walk past an old house, my eyes gloss the whole setting then focus in on the details. I have a strong compulsion to repair the house, and that project begins with my eye's appreciation of its architecture. Viewing the design and the materials is a very satisfying experience for me, better than going to an art museum since the art of a house is viewed in its proper context. I am in love with bricks, and wood, and cedar, and... Well, you get the point. It is hard for me to watch these materials going to waste, no longer appreciated, abandoned. It is also hard for me not to think about the fine craftsmen, masons, carpenters, plumbers, who with such professionalism created these structures. Their sweat, their own dreams, their precision live in the buildings they erected.

Take the three houses above. All of them are in my neighborhood or at least within walking distance. (Neighborhood boundaries are not clear.) Needless to say, with the level of abandonment in my neighborhood, the area is somewhat blighted although here and there are homes that are being cared for splendidly. I consider these three abandoned homes to be architectural gems, and this is not so much to say that they are unique as to recognize that they were built at a time when we used natural resources as if they were inexhaustible. To atone for the sin of overuse, however, builders built beautifully. Well, they can be forgiven then, but what about us? What about those of us who take these great abandoned houses for granted?Do we not daily turn a blind eye to the fact that, save for the families that may have lived in these homes forty to one hundred years, their presence is now almost in vain? We cut down forests and built these homes for what, to let them fall back into the ground?

In an earlier post, I spoke about my experiences living in the South and implied that Southerners care more about their homesteads. I don't know if I intended to send that message. It is likely not true. I have seen some Southern towns and cities where this sort of abandonment also is prevalent. But, I have also seen some really, really successful historic neighborhoods in the North and in the South, and I am in awe of people who commit themselves to lovingly caring for the built environment. I admire such efforts not just because they are beautiful and soulful but because historic neighborhoods, aside from the problem of regentrification, maybe attempt to create an alternative to economic trends. (I've probably put my foot in my mouth with that one, but I don't feel up to arguing the point just now. I'll return to it at some point.)

For now, let me just say that when I view abandoned houses, businesses, and main streets, my heart goes out to these spaces that I suspect have retained just a little of the spirit and energy of former occupants. Too often abandonment of spaces means ignoring the politically fraught history of places in an effort to move on to the next project, and abandoned places too often also mean abandoned economies and, worse, abandoned populations. Make no mistake; the financial condition of the school that neighbors the third house is directly tied to the abandoment of their shared neighborhood and of their city as well by big business, by banks, and ultimately by ordinary people who leave these neighborhoods in fear themselves of being left behind. I wonder what could happen if a critical mass opted to stay, loving our homes, our communities, and their peoples.

Standards of Taste

Perhaps the truth is, there is no standard. Taste is simply relative as is beauty. If I accept this, then all of my criticisms of vinyl siding cannot be seen as absolutely true or correct. Still, in my comments, I have tried to suggest two things (1) that the commercial market pushes its standards (trends) upon us, and (2) that one can opt out of market standards and try something different. I have also stated that what the market offers is limited in terms of color, materials, etc. In short, I have simply wanted to see homeowners be more creative and independent minded. Even so, I am left with the fact that choosing to give one's house a commercial look is also the homeowner's right.

This morning, just before I began my walk, I received a painful reminder of everything that I have just said. A few steps from my front porch, my neighbor's son, a realtor, verbally assaulted and insulted me with criticism of my house. The assault included criticism of my color choice, a command that I put up shutters and paint my front door red, and a statement that the side of my house was an eyesore. By the time that my irritation began to show, he semi-backpeddled, an insincere move that hardly cancelled out his earlier comments.

Needless to say, this early-morning exchange pretty much ruined my walk as I spent the next forty-five minutes thinking about what I'd just experienced. Part of me felt "that's what you get!" a taste of your own bitter medicine. Okay, I can deal with that.

So, what now? No more commenting on houses? No more raging against vinyl?

I could go on hiatus, but I've been enjoying this blog too much. It has been cathartic as I've been able to get thoughts off of my chest or out of my head. Perhaps I have been inflicting the same kind of pain that I felt this morning. I hope not.

But pain was what I felt when this man screwed up his face and said, "that color"! My response was "I like it." That was my only reply, my only defense, to his suggestion that dark green, my dark green, is not acceptable. Basically, what I was saying was that it's my house, and I'll paint it whatever color I like; thank you very much. Yet, I have to admit that I can still hear his voice echoing in my head. I am not past the insult. It is personal yes, but what bothers me as much is the idea (which I think is underlying) that there is only a very limited, acceptable, color palate when it comes to the exterior of houses. Most people might actually agree with that idea, and I myself think that there are extremes that people would do well to avoid, but I continue to feel that "my green" is acceptable. What has gotten beneath my skin is the idea that as a homeowner I have to walk such a fine line; moving a little to the left or a little to the right, even a millimeter in either direction, results in judgment. This is the general problem, and it bothers me greatly.

He was on a roll, so there was no point in his stopping at criticizing my color choice. He asked me if I would paint the door red! What!? The door (which used to be white when the entire house was covered in white aluminum) is now a warm brown, a few shades lighter than the chocolate colored columns and banding. Truth be told, I don't know if he was really suggesting that I paint the door red, or if he was being facitious and ra... (Okay, I'm not going to go there, not yet anyway.) Anyway, the red door comment was his attempt I suppose at a joke. I think the question was would I choose a tacky red to go along with the tacky green since "you people" (my people or black people) are known for gaudiness. Why not add some bling to the equation? Right. Perhaps my interpretation is wrong, but I doubt it.

Another thing that we people are known for is getting people told. I am amazed and I could kick myself that I didn't offer him a few choice words. Actually, that is not nor ever has been my tendency, but sometimes I wonder if I'm not a little too civilized. I think that this occasion definitely called for some appropriate correction, and I should have offered it. Missed opportunity.

Lastly, I was told basically to put some shutters up. That's right; I'm a grown woman, but I was TOLD what to do to my own house that my husband and I pay for. That's it! Sorry folks, I tried not to use the "r" word since we so often get accused of pulling out that card unnecessarily and inappropriately. Now I know. Now I understand. Understand what?

I have been trying for years now to understand why my grandfather--once owner of hundreds of acres of land--left Mississippi. Now I understand. He knew what it felt like to have your manhood questioned. He knew what it felt like to have another person treat you like a boy though you are a six foot, two hundred and fifty pound man. And now I know what it feels like to have someone disregard your gray hair, disregard your education, disregard the fact that you have been working steadily on your house, and regard instead the color of your skin. It would seem to be the last that explained for our neighbor's son why I chose my green; it is this last that says to him, they're never going to finish their siding removal project; it is this last that made him think that he needed to tell me to repaint a color he approves of and to put up shutters; it is this last that made him joke that we would paint the door red! Yes, the red door was the clincher.

Now, I know what it feels like to have not just one's taste, but one's intelligence and even one's humanity attacked. So, on second thought, I am done with blogging about siding. I dare not risk offering classist comments that equal the racist ones with which I was assaulted today. I think that I have gained something from this writing however, all that I was meant to learn, from this topic. I hope that my readers have learned something as well.

Captive Cottage (Curbside Appeal)

Watch this video on Hulu. Design shows are of course obnoxious, and I realize that few people can afford a designer. It's a good thing since also few people want either a designer or a blogger dictating taste. I'm directing you to this video, however, because this is a great small house, and it warms my heart that this young homeowner chose to remove siding and to paint the wood hidden underneath. I didn't hear the designers say they needed to repair any of the wood. They may not have been completely honest here, but watch this episode and be inspired.

"Captive Cottage"

Let me know what you think.

Mismatched

House #1

Brick and Vinyl

House #2

Limestone Facade and Vinyl

House #3

Vinyl with Wood Trim

House #4

Cedar and Asbestos Siding

House #5
Asbestos Siding and Vinyl

House #6

Aluminum Siding and Limestone Facade

Old House Journal readers look forward to reaching the last page of each edition of the magazine, "Remuddled." What is one to make of these famous collages of styles of various eras?

Yet, none of us including me is above the temptation to try out the lastest trends in home improvement especially if those trends are aggressively marketed as energy-saving, i.e. cost-saving, up-to-date, and smart. As a homeowner, who wants to make dumb decisions, or fall behind in making changes that realtors and siding companies imply will increase our home's value?

In all of the above cases, I think that what motivated these homeowners is peer pressure and economic pressure, which is simply to say that home improvement decisions are hardly made in a vacuum. These decisions tell us something of local and national economies and of the pressure that they put on us all to conform and stay current.

Let's start with House #1. I chose this house because it is in an upscale neighborhood. I walk or drive down the street where this house is located nearly every day, and from either vantage point it is clear that the trend on th street where this house is located is vinyl. Given the size of the homes along this street, one might expect that their owners could afford to exercise other options. They could opt to paint the wood that is underneath the siding for instance. Choosing to paint would suggest a commitment to the historic character of this neighborhood. Residents of this area would need to begin thinking of their neighborhood of '40s and '50s houses as historic. So far, no such transition in thinking has been made, so homeowners here continue to keep up with the latest standard, which, again, is vinyl siding.

I also included House #1 for a few other reasons, not the least of which is that it indicates that market pressure is not felt just by the working class. The focus of this post, however, is the overall incompatibility between different siding treatments and other home improvement choices. House #1 is clearly not a terrible case of remuddling, yet it does commit this sin: post updates, the homeowners have created a new housing style. While the general lines suggest Prairie the slender porch columns and lattice work give a country feel. At the same time, the very large picture window--very common in the city where the house is located--further confuse the houses architectural style. Was it built in the '50s, '60s, or '70s? My guess, based on the front door, is that this is in fact a late 50s house, but given the more recent treatments this possible fact is hidden.

House #2 is in another nearby neighborhood full of ranch homes similar to this one. To a large extent, this neighborhood also has gone the way of vinyl, though there are some admirable cedar-sided holdouts. Probably, that is what is beneath the siding on this particular house. (I plan a separate post on the exact type of siding I'm talking about.) I chose this house for comment because of the limestone veneer facade, which you will see on one other house in this post. I am urging my readers to think seriously, or, rather, artistically about the compatibility between something like limestone, other natural stones, or even brick, with plastic. To me, marrying vinyl with these other, natural, elements (even brick begins natural) is like wearing a plastic tiara with a sleek black Donna Karan outfit. Sorry folks, but for me there is nothing richer than natural materials, and if one is blessed to have wood on his or her house, covering it with plastic is an act that, I have to admit, continues to puzzle me.

House #3, no doubt architecturally admirable at one point in time, is now what I call a mountain of plastic. Whoever chose vinyl siding did decide to leave some wood trim, and the dark paint color of the door surround leads me to believe that this house may have some Tudor blood. I find it interesting that the owner wanted to hang on to this rich, dark color and the way that this particular brown makes the viewer feel. It is warm, pleasant, and rich like black coffee. But how compatible is this mood with that of the creamy yellow that has become its partner? (Racial overtones coincidental.) Arguably, these are Tudor colors. I will concede that much, but I'd still ask whether vinyl can carry the same feeling that one gets when viewing stucco and timber together.

House #4 obviously is not a full house but simply its most distracting feature. This new window is part of an asbestos and cedar sided Four Square. I can't say much about this choice other than that the person or people who made it were apparently pulled in two directions just as in House #3. The owners of this Four Square wanted to stay true to the cedar, but they also desired, needed, or both desired and needed a new window. This three-paneled picture window is as far as I know very up-to-date. (I had a window salesman suggest one for my modern ranch just last year.) This is what I would call a semi-bay, and perhaps it manages to carry all of the class that goes with having a real bay window. Problem is, it does not belong on this house. Why? Well, that's not easy to answer. Back to the concept of compatibility, how well do the super clean lines of this window jibe with the home's original windows. While you cannot see the original windows, rest assured that the windows of most Four Squares have wood divides. Wood may in fact be the key word here, but division also adds complexity and texture. In a divided light (window) there is simply more for the eye to see. This complexity matches the art of most old homes, where usually in terms of design there is a lot going on. At the same time, if designed well, the many parts become a graceful composition that induces a sense of peacefulness. For me, this new window is an attempt at achieving the peace that comes with clarity and simplicity, but because it is compatible with the house it actually destroys the hoped for sense of calm.

It should be painfully obvious why I included House #5, so I'm going to keep my comments about it brief. This house makes me cry. This house says most strongly, economy is driving us all.

Finally, House #6 repeats some of the choices of the other homes with its marriage of limestone and, in this case, aluminum and with its new bay window. This window seems a little out of scale with the house itself, and I think that likely that was the selling point. It is gaudy, yes, and it gives off a feeling of affluence. Now, this is a perfectly (potentially) beautiful small home, and like the others, it could be rich indeed without the extra adornment. If we could only let our houses be themselves!

I'll leave you with this. I believe that architects use the word "aura" to get at what I've meant by feeling. For me, aura is created by four things: (1) setting, (2) building materials, (3) color, and (4) design. I prefer a warm, rich, natural and inviting aura. I don't like pretention (when you see my home you'll see that I've broken this rule), and I don't like incompatibility or mismatches. Wood almost always gives off a warm feeling especially if it is stained or left as natural as possible; stone can exude this same feeling depending on with what it's married. Stone can also give off a very fresh and cool feeling as people associate it with water. Together with wood, this treatment can provide viewers a sense of balance. Not too cool, nor too hot, but just right. Needless to say, there are warm colors and cool colors, and I don't necessarily have a preference. My only concern is that vinyl and aluminum siding limit color choices and therefore limit the aura that can be created from them. (Every house included here looks dull, almost faded.) Colored siding simply cannot mimic the intensity of painted wood. (Despite new additions to the offerings of siding companies, paint colors are far more vibrant and much more numerous. Siding companies never will be able to achieve the intensity of paint color.)

Lastly, various house types or designs can feel differently depending on things like scale and materials. While it may not be impossible for a gigantic ultra-modern, stucco house with very large undivided lights to feel "homey," creating this feeling may be more of a challenge than, say, for a small stone cottage with heavy brown timbers over divided, casement windows.

Well, I'll close now. I've said enough. I hope that my comments are taken in the spirit and purpose in which I offered them, as an attempt to get people to take a second look at their homes to see if some of the changes that are being advocated by home improvement companies and our neighbors are necessary and whether one can achieve a home of beauty and delight without doing much at all.

An Inspired Tudor Chimney Reaching Up

By now, the saying, "God is in the details" (van der Rohe) is probably a cliche, but for me it still rings true.

This chimney is part of a white aluminum-sided home in a nearby neighborhood. (I took off in a different direction this morning, actually a couple different directions.) I turned to this house because of the siding. To my delight, out of the black-capped mountain of white metal this lovely chimney arose. This architectural detail clearly marks this house as Tudor Revival on a modest scale. How amazing its condition. I see no chips in the stucco, no missing mortar around the bricks. The great condition of the chimney would seem to suggest that the entire house has been preserved, well cared for.

But let us imagine what this house once looked like, pre-siding. Let us imagine the warm browns that blended seamlessly with the chimney. Notice the interesting design at the top. Where else on the home might this geographic, Wright-like, design have been repeated, around the front door maybe?

While the white siding now frames this detail, allowing us, yes, to see its singular beauty, we are missing the whole of which it is only one part. And that is just one, albeit a great one, problem with siding. It dismantles, distorts, and, of course, obliterates. Not only can we not see this home's most distant past, we may never be able to know fully the artistic point of view that went into its making. I have either rightly or wrongly identified Wright architecture as inspiration for the architect or mason of this home, but this is just the sort of question that would lead to yet others that would, in the end, tell us something not only about the history of this particular house but about the history of the area in which it is located.

Ultimately, while the siding may tell us who we are most recently--the things that motivate us, scare us, or excite--this strange covering cannot tell us who we were at just the moment in time when this house and others were created.

And now let us praise...houses

1. One of the best features on this vinyl-sided house

is the brackets. Here, they are covered in aluminum

and outlined in plastic.

2. The aluminium on this old house is faded as is

the blue-gray paint on the window.

3. The owners of this aluminum-sided house chose

to keep the wood trim around the windows

4. This house still has a wood porch and wood
columns. Notice the odd angle of the siding
on the wood support.



5. This is a flat for rent. The sign
is in the window.

6. This vinyl-sided house is blessed with two arches.

I decided to share a few images from my walk this morning. These help make some of the points I've been trying to get across. One of the sins of siding is that it hides architectural detail, and it destroys the feel of natural materials as it covers them with plastic.

Image #1 is a neat and clean house with brackets. Obviously, the home is Arts and Crafts, but are these Arts and Crafts colors? Does this home show off its best style by being painted the limited colors offered by siding companies? The owners of this house will have to live with these dull colors, in theory, forever. Also note the vent high up top. The actual vent is probably much larger and more distinctive.

Image #2. This octagon window is just screaming to be liberated from the gold aluminum surrounding it. People who opt for siding must reason that they do not want the bother of painting, and part of that reasoning must also be the idea that siding will look fresh forever while paint won't. Yet, we see so many houses like this that have neither been resided nor painted in many, many years. Honestly, the faded paint and the faded siding, as colors, blend pretty well here. I maintain that the quality of the materials are, however, mismatched.

Image #3. In this case, the homeowner tried to keep even more detail. Imagine how beautiful the design of this window would be set against color.

Image #4. Crooked siding seems to be very common with nonprofessional siders. I see this kind of thing fairly often, and it would appear that some people who choose siding don't mind an obtuse angle here and there so long as everything is covered.

Image #5. This is a two-family flat. The other side is a mirror image. I cannot imagine that the face of this building was as plain back in its hey day. The building looks clean in its vinyl coat, and it is this fact that will make it appealing to potential renters. The owner of this building can pretty much count on that.

Image #6. The owners of this house try very hard to bring character to their home, and they are blessed with two arches framing the small porch. I'm dying, however, to know what's under the vinyl. What's the natural material underneath and how is it placed to create the arch? Neither I nor the owners may ever know.

It occurred to me

After I finished the last entry, it occurred to me that I was being or at least sounded like a snob. People have a right to choose whatever siding they want, and maybe I was acting as the taste police. Maybe I was also prescribing my standards and assuming that they are the only standards. I can see this, and my desire is not to limit people's choices. I thought maybe I could open people's eyes to the fact that they do not have to conform to the commercial, industrial, and practical. Painting is cheaper than siding, and, again, in my opinion, looks better. But, I recognize that if people feel all around better with siding then that choice is just as valuable as the one I myself made, that is, to remove my thirty or forty year old aluminum siding and to never side again.

Now, having confessed my own shortcomings and hopefully having been forgiven, let me proceed to put my foot in my mouth again. I'm afraid I took another walk this morning and came to some different conclusions. I think that I'm forcing a whole different outlook on midwestern culture. My city's character or the attitude and outlook of its people has been described as "work-a-day." I'd love to unpack that term; it's so intriguing. I'll try however not to spend a lot of time describing it. I'll simply say that after living here for eight years I think I have a pretty good idea what it means.

Here, work frames life. Work is the priority, and it dictates the quality of everything else. So, work-a-day culture is one of practicality. In this kind of culture, you could increase the school day to ten hours, get rid of all art and music and there would be no parental outrage. Work-a-day culture is a rule-following culture, an exacting culture, a machine culture. A high value is placed on systems, rules; people find life easier with these.

A couple of weeks ago, I took one of those silly quizzes that people seem to love on Facebook. (Generally, I find those stupid, and I feel similarly about Facebook though I am trying to stick with it because some people whom I think I admire say it's valuable.) So, I take this quiz that's supposed to tell you what your perfect state (in the union) is. Before I even start, I say, I know my ideal residence will be in the South. Okay, so I answer the ten questions and just as I expected I'm a Southerner alright. I'm a South Carolinian! Now, the quiz also has me living in a white house with a white picket fence. Such a desire as this may be in my subconscious. Anyone who read my last post could guess that I am not a fan of white houses, and picket fences are definitely over the top. Still, I loved living in North Carolina, and I hate to admit that our home there was a white wood-sided hybrid Cape Cod farm house with a long and deep front porch. It had a porch swing and a small picket fence which I removed a couple months after we moved in. This was our first house, and I wasn't in love with it; I settled for it because it was the first house my husband and I agreed upon. I'm pretty sure that I would not choose that style of house again, and though people say you shouldn't go backwards, I would return to North Carolina in a heartbeat. South Carolina may also be a good bet.

Now, back to my earlier thoughts. As I was walking this morning, I was thinking, I'm trying to force Southern onto Northern culture. People who live up here like this place just as it is. I mean, I don't hear anyone but myself complaining. If there's a block of white, vinyl and aluminum sided bungalows that are in no way distinguishable one from the next this is just as their owners want it. There is obviously no desire to have one's home be different, to have it reflect one's idiosyncracies, to be warm, inviting, and welcoming. No! A practical culture lives by the mantra--"no must, no fuss, no bother."

On one block in this same neighborhood, there is a shingled house that is midnight blue. It stands out like a sore thumb. It was for sale a few years back, and I lost track of whether it ever sold, but on a recent walk I noticed that there were no curtains at the windows. I concluded that its owners may have been selling due to a move out of the area. Probably, they hated to leave the house because really I suspect they put a lot of work into it, and they loved it. It's in mint condition, and the midnight blue contrasts with its bright red front door. Really, the house looks like something you'd see in a beach town. The nearest beach town to my city is about an hour away, and there is definitely a stark contrast between homes here and there. The owners of the midnight blue shingled house had the same problem I have; they thought that they could introduce color and character to a gray, brown, and white culture. They failed, and until they sell that house, they will have a constant reminder of that failure though I think they probably got a lot of joy out of the house while they lived in it and also from the process of transforming it into something divine!

But the question really is how one who is romantic can adjust to a practical culture. I wish I had an answer. I do not. The only thing that is obvious is that I cannot change a whole city not even one person at a time. I can create an oasis I suppose. My once-white aluminum clad home (gray shutters) is now deep green with chocolate trim. (I know that sounds too dark, depressingly so, but it's a modern styled home with not that much trim.) I can keep working on my garden, finding lots of joy in the beauty of it. My coneflower is almost as tall as I am, so my backyard is taking on a real cottage feel. I'm on vacation in my backyard.

But, in the South, I shopped for flowers with my friends, all of whom were fellow gardeners. We shared cuttings with each other, and at least once a week I sat in their yards or they in mine sipping tea, lemonade, or some other cool drink while we talked about kids, home, and love. I haven't had one experience like that here, and I absolutely have given up imagining that I one day will. No, the thing for me is not to adjust to work-a-day culture. The thing for me to do is move.