Pollock in the Trees

Pollock's Autumn Rhythm

Looking up at the trees last week, it was as if Pollock himself had dripped colors and lines across the sky. Only nature could be both abstract and concrete in equal doses. Spending the week teaching Transcendentalism and Thoreau sent me into the woods to find the perfect spot to become what Emerson called a transparent eyeball. Framing up images of a trees through the lens of a camera helped make that impalpable task far more tangible. And it made perfect sense when Frank Lloyd Wright was asked if he believed in God, he said, "Yes, but I spell it N-A-T-U-R-E."

Columbus Discoveries

If Columbus had actually landed on our shores this weekend, he would have thought he had found Heaven and not India. The Hudson Valley had hit its peak.
After breakfast at the very modest and friendly Marco's Diner, where Olvia vouched for the fluffiness of the pancakes, Saturday was a look at the Hudson River from the banks of Athens. Hudson River Valley painter Thomas Cole couldn't have asked for a more perfect subject to paint. Then at Green Lake, armed with a rig consisting of a twig, found string and hook, and stale potato chips for bait, the kids caught and released a brace of brim.
At Black Horse Farms, we sampled their usual goodies-- handgrown or handmade-- and splurged on handmade mozzarella, goat cheese, fresh tomatoes, apples, and a divine cheesecake by Michele in Freehold. Needless to say, the remainder of the day consisted of wine, food, and tree gazing.
Sunday brought another road trip; this time west to visit Bouler Design Group's parcel of property near Windham. Here the kids were kids, and played by racing leaf boats in the rapid creek, while James and I scouted out possible bulding sites for the Living Machine's House H or House F. Afterwards we touched base with Mary King of Village Greene Realty in Windham and scouted out some properties for several clients.
The only sad note of the weekend was the four car accident our builder Keith Abrams of Green in Greene was involved in. Thankfully he and his family only sustained minor injuries.
As I write this in the golden light of the afternoon, there is a pot of purple mums by my side, a fire in the outdoor pit, and handpainted Halloween cards drying on the table. I guess this is why they call second homes, vacation homes.

Last Time 'Round

With renovation about to begin again upstate, I reflect on our last renovation project: our house in Islip. The house, the first home on the block, started as a two bedroom cottage built in 1925. From there it began to grow-- breakfast nook, family room, second story, decks.
When we bought it, the house was actually a "mother-daughter" with the upstairs and downstairs functioning as fully separate spaces. Once we stripped the plaster walls of calico wallpaper and repainted all the mouldings, our next step was to make the house unified, which turned the upstairs kitchen and living room into two more bedrooms, giving us a total of five. Bouler Design Group, however, still needed space, so a handful of years later, we completed an addition to serve as an office. The biggest trick was to make the house look as if it had always been there. We did this in a few ways. We used the same materials and style: cedar shingles, copper gutters, heavy trim. We also used a complex color scheme to integrate the addition with the existing house. But it was the rear elevation of the house which really pulled the project together. The complexity of the gables, the cloistered space of the meditation garden, the removal of a detached garage transformed the back of the house completely. The rear elevation shows that renovation can be done in a historically sensitive manner by retaining the charater of the home while offering additional space.
Completing a renovation while living in the space (and working in the space, as Bouler Design Group continuted to function during the process) can be tricky. Every day crews would traipse through the house, leaving us in different levels of disarray, which can be rather disconcerting to one's sense of well-being. Almost like childbirth, once the house is complete and functioning, you forget those labor pains and enjoy the end result, so much so that you'll even contemplate doing it again elsewhere.
Of course our goal for Potic Cottage is to create more space while maintaining the integrity and character of the original space. It's our next baby.