More musings than mutterings and possibly containing no useful information.
Quiet Modernism – I was going to write about Carpenter Modern (my own term) but I went on too long with Quiet M and I’ll just have to get back to Carpenter M another day.
Quiet modernism is a term I’ve been using for a few years and I haven’t really put it out there. Of course it might go viral with millions of followers, a book deal, speaking engagements and the like. Or not. I would not like that much attention.
As I age gracefully into this profession that chose me for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, (richer and poorer I suppose as well) some guiding principles have emerged to take note of.
I can’t say that I have always been steadfast to these – sometimes people just want a house and resent me asking so many questions and making so many suggestions. Making them think too much.
I have been asked if I will ever design a home for myself and my family. The short answer is NO. But with every project I do imagine living there and encourage the clients to do the same. My imagination is my greatest resource and using it is where I can be the most helpful in these relationships. To help open people up to all the possibilities. Although I often have to close some doors for them too. For reasons of budget usually. There is a process of discovery that I am very enthusiastic about and perhaps more so the older (and more experiences) I get.
One might think all this experience speeds up and simplifies the process of design. I think experience might be knowing the questions to ask and where to find the answers – who to ask often as not. Experience is also knowing when to shut up and listen. There is an awful lot to listen to and not just the clients, the builder and all the people engaged in the project. There is your gut to listen too of course.
As I write this I am outside in my hammock having what might be my last hammock practice of the season. (typed up the next day)
Right here today, now, I am mostly listening to the pine trees by the barn and the North side of the field. The sun is a bit too hot and bright which I welcome. What could outside space be like with a new house designed by Robert Swinburne Architect – Bluetime Collaborative and on an afternoon like this? Outside space that has function and life and ongoing processes that might include healing the land of all that we have recently done to it. What is the relationship between the occupants of the house and the land. How does it change day to day, day to night, season to season, for better and worse. And beyond through time.
So many times in the last 26 years I have passed or paused in this very spot on my way in from a snowshoe while the sun drops out of sight on the Western horizon and the snow goes from sparkly with purple shadows to a more quiet blue. Bluetime.
Oh boy, I just strayed a bit from the first bit of this missive. Or did I?
Can a house and land be designed such that experiences are something to savor like my time yesterday in the hammock? Or is it just a safe place to raise kids and animals, watch movies in the evening, stare at the fire, budgeting at the kitchen table? Can design move toward creating or augmenting a natural or human made oasis for life and death both inside and outside and for more lives in the future. A tall order I suppose.
If a designer or client or builder suggests a very “traditional” house, does that aspect get in the way? Or are they trying to fit modern life into some ideal from times long gone? I do that sometimes and sometimes it is the right answer. Traditional forms do not negate a modern approach to resource use, comfort, maintenance and upkeep and I would go so far as to say everything I have done has deep roots to some vernacular. Having said that I will now have to think about that for days. Perhaps the vernacular isn’t local but might be a better approach for sustainability and livability. A specific example might be looking at Alpine and Northern European countries and how their houses have responded to heavy snow loads for centuries. Similar to Japanese houses and rain. Roofs can do a lot more than we usually give them a chance to and maybe with our changing climate it might be a good idea to see what lessons we can learn from people and cultures who have already learned them. Actually the same applies to building science. And medicine?
Quiet modernism loosens the reigns a little to play and respond. It gives permission to engage more deeply with the world outside the window. And inside the window. Along with this thought is the idea that quiet modernism might be more of an approach than an aesthetic or a Wikipedia entry. Beauty and grace are allowed to occur.
With this permission I can start to ask the real questions of myself and the people who have entrusted me with their dreams.
I sometimes will start with taking a small but reoccurring part of the dream and rolling it around for a bit as an example of how I’m going to be approaching their project. The starting point is getting up with the sun and the birds on a fine morning in May. Short sleeves and dandelions! Do you take your fresh brewed tea or coffee out into the sunshine and pause to listen and feel for a time? Are you alone or with a partner or friend or child? How do you envision this small and perfect vignette of life? Close your eyes and feel it.
Now turn it upside down – Similar ritual but it has been raining and sleeting against the glass all night and the sun is late and liminal. Can this part of the story have as much calm and grace in these very different circumstances?
In the morning coffee example we are allowing and supporting the type of imagination I need as an architect to succeed at what I do.
Of course I must also pay attention to tile, and ergonomics and HVAC and sourcing materials and building science and what would the neighbors think and let’s invite the neighbors over for an open house or perhaps just tea and where and how do the gutters drain and what might be potential maintenance issues and will my client be warm enough at 20 below and the Passive House discussion + Pretty Good House… Did I forget to ask anything?
All these things are important of course but perhaps are only a supporting role in the story.
Quiet modernism ties nicely with warm modernism but I think the former is more experiential than the latter. But my mind could be changed.
That’s enough. I’m typing this on a quiet, dark rainy day The day after hammock day and I think it’s time to go sit by the wood stove for a bit if I can budge the cat out of the rocking chair. Hot chocolate would be appropriate too.
I’ll try to flesh out my ideas of carpenter modern a bit more and write something.
