Renovation - What to consider

It seems like these days, most people are considering renovating rather than starting from scratch.   If you are one of these individuals,  here is a list of things you should consider before getting started on the process.

1. Depending on the extent of the renovation, you may need to consider moving out for a while during construction.  It's messy, loud, and downright inconvenient.
2. It is IMPOSSIBLE for a contractor to prepare an accurate accounting of the costs necessary to complete the project due to the unknowns that are inherent with every renovations. 
3. If you can limit the amount of destruction done to the existing structure, your invested money will have a greater return.
4. Hire a design professional  who has experience with renovations, especially if the work is going to be extensive.  It's always good to have an advocate who understands the process and can help you interpret the pricing.
5. Hire a contractor with experience in renovations.  Don't hire just anybody with the best price. The cost up front is often not the price at the end!! 

As you move forward with your renovation, know up front that there will likely be cost overruns and a few hassles along the way.  Just keep envisioning yourself in the completed space and know that the dust will eventually settle.

Get in the Flow!

When one designs a group of spaces, it is extremely important to understand the movements that will occur within the space.  This is often referred to as "flow".  Occupants are seldom, if ever motionless.  Key questions to ask when designing or modifying an existing space are:

- How many occupants at a time will occupy this space?  If this is a large number, have multiple ways individuals can come and go.
- Are there any dead end paths?
- Are there pockets for small group interactions?
- Do natural circulation paths cross through the center of interaction zones?  If they do... change the route!

Most of us non-military types walk in the paths of least resistance, not much different then my dogs do as they head out across the well traveled path to greet my neighbor's dog Jake.  These travel paths should not be cluttered or be places where groups of people would likely gather to interact.

Proper flow is a key element of how successful a space will eventually function.  Keep it in mind...

So where is it that you enter the building anyway?

What comes to mind first as the answer to this question is just the word "door".  The bigger the door, the grander the entry.  The feelings experienced when entering a structure are often dictated by how the entry is juxtaposed  with other elements of the building.  My preference when creating an entry is to make it a sequence, not an abrupt transition. For a church, the sequence starts when the members and guests enter the property. A clear path to their destination must be evident, especially for the first time visitor. Once parked, the members will follow a path leading to a courtyard, situated in front of the chapel, and surrounded by the ancillary portions of the structure.  The hierarchy of building massing should be evident and scaled according to the priority of usages.  The courtyard becomes the first "room" entered.  It is a place where those attending are embraced by the structure, felt protected, and welcomed gradually into the sanctuary. It is a place to be, not just a path to the front door.  By providing an area of roof over the primary entry doors, the members are protected from the elements, and covered by the structure.  Large glass doors lead into the Narthex where the space's scale is similar to that of the covered porch area, and reflective of the Sanctuary yet to come.

The entry sequence must be a gradual transition into the structure and mimic what the greeters do each Sunday morning.  It must welcome, embrace, and provide a sense of security to all that attend.

Meaning - what exactly is that?

The more I think about adding "Meaning" to the Chapel in the Pines project, the more I have asked the question "what is meaning exactly?".  When something is meaningful to me, it is often something that reminds me of a pleasant experience in my past.  It is like a key that opens the door to a fading memory. I have a pair of crazy pants (set me back $2) which I purchased in Agua Caliente, the town at the base of Machu Picchu in Peru.  Although they are basically worthless to anyone else, every time I see or wear them, I am reminded of the awesome trip I had with my father, brother, and nephew.  There are also meaningful symbols, especially in the Christian faith.  The cross being the most obvious.  I must find those symbols that are most important to the Chapel's congregation and incorporate them in a sensitive manner appropriate to their importance.  The other type of meaning is the meaning that is yet to be created. The space created, both inside and out, must be places that encourage meaning to be created.  Friendships, baptisms, weddings, special celebrations are but a few of the events in members lives that all will carry meaning along with them.

Meaning in architecture is not just about finding what is meaningful from the past, or incorporating symbols into the present design but also creating spaces that will become meaningful in the future.

The Meaning of Meaning in Architecture

One of the most rewarding thing for me as an architect to do is design a space with integrated meaning throughout.  I recently have begun working on a local church starting from the ground up.  The opportunity to integrate the beliefs of the congregation into the architecture is everywhere, from site design to individual space considerations. Although congregations lean heavily toward tradition for ceremony, there is a great opportunity to enhance ones individual experience of tradition by having the architecture respond in a sensitive, immersive way.  As this project continues to develop, new posts will address just how meaning is being incorporated into the "Chapel in the Pines" project.

Stairs 101

As I began to write about stairs, it quickly became evident that this simple aspect of a home is way more complicated than a single blog could encompass.  All of us have been on a staircase, some comfortable, some downright scary.  What is it that makes a stair comfortable?  What makes a stair grand? Where is the best place to locate a stair?  What are the trade-offs between form and function? 

Obviously, there are lots of questions that need answers…and so my “Stair Series” of blog posts begin. Throughout this series, my goal will be to heighten the understanding of the hows and whys of stair architecture. I hope to accomplish this through a step by step (sorry for the pun!) explanation of the design considerations I encounter on my projects.

Stay tuned for upcoming posts as my “Stair Series” explores 
the ups and downs of stair design. 
(More puns! Too many opportunities!)

 

Inside-Out Design

Because of my interior design background, I have always noticed and appreciated the finer points of - obviously - the interior aesthetic. You know when you walk into a space and all the colors, textures, and proportions just 'feel good'? Great design inherently just exudes this 'feeling' and we often don't know how or why. In design school, I learned how to create a floor plan and lay out spaces. I also learned how to blend construction materials with paint, furnishings, and accessories. But until I began working in an architectural office, I don't think I fully understood the importance of good inside-out design.

I call it 'inside-out' design because I have learned that what is planned for the outside (exterior) of your home can be just as important as what goes on inside. Sure, you may want a family room with a fireplace and that opens into the kitchen. But subtleties like window placement, room symmetry, ceiling heights, and architectural details are the integral framework that interior design relies on. Good architecture is the foundation for an interior worthy of the pages of Home and Garden magazine.

Before working for an architect, it was relatively easy for me to lay out a floor plan that met all interior needs…the kitchen near an eating area…a bathroom near a guest suite. Now I realize that on the inside of a home, every wall, every tray or vaulted ceiling, every jog and turn in a hallway affects 101 different things on the exterior. Without an architect to consider such ramifications, a house starts to look quite lost and disjointed on the outside. Part of the beauty of a well-designed home is its seamless integration of the inside and outside elements. Without careful consideration of both of these crucial aspects of your home, that 'feel good' feeling of good design won't quite be accomplished.

Why Must We Have Straight Walls?

I often wonder why it is that despite the fact that there are basically no squares found in nature, we force ourselves to live and work in them. It is just not natural! Curved walls create dynamic, flowing spaces. Although they do cause contractors to get migraines, every time that I have incorporated them into a home, the results have added interest, and created a better flow.

I guess that we live in boxes simply because they were easier to build... and that just doesn’t seem right.

Puzzled by Design

Designing a home, or anything for that matter, is in itself a daunting task. When the process begins, the relevant data sits there in a pile in front of me, much like a 1,200 piece puzzle that has just been dumped out for assembly. The individual pieces of information are small and have a specific role to play. Like a puzzle, the key to successfully completing a design project means having all of the pieces on the table when you start.

Over the years, I have developed a process of making a puzzle that works very well. It begins by getting all the pieces situated so the picture faces up, and then I set out to find those elusive side pieces. Once these are mostly together, I start sorting the pieces that are similar in color. This makes it easier for me to begin filling in the puzzle’s center.

As each piece gets placed into the puzzle, the next one becomes slightly easier to find until only one spot remains. The main difference between assembling the puzzle that sat on my parent’s dining room table at Christmas and creating a home from a stack of papers, is the picture on the front of the puzzle box. Even though I don’t know what each final design will become, I do know a process of how to get one competed--the process provides a framework for design.

What do I love about design?   I can do the same process over and over again and still come up with unique solutions, each and every time.