Tag Archives: Preservation

Uncategorized

Ancient Summer

Photo by Max Hofstetter on Unsplash

I live in a house that’s over a hundred years old. To someone from the East Coast or Europe, it’s not really such a big deal or ancient. But in California it qualifies as old. Our oldest building in California is the Mission San Juan Capistrano, which is 236 years old, but there are not many like her. Over the years, people have asked me, what is it like to live in a old house?

Currently, it’s summer, so most of my perspective is coming from that place. Basically, it’s hot. We are into September, which is still kind of summer in the Inland Empire and it was 100 yesterday. It was 117 last month and was up to 106 three days in a row during one week. Yes, I have central air conditioning. And I have a friend that put down new base boards for me, so that forced cold air now stays in the house. When I first moved into the house, there were cracks and gaps everywhere and light actually shown through. Did this disturb me? No. I liked the fact that fresh air was constantly being exchanged and I could see sunlight peeking through near the floor. I even got up at a Board of Realtors meeting in Corona and expoused on the benefits of air exchange in old bungalows, so that gives you a big clue where I’m coming from when discussing restoration and preserving the originalty of antique structures. It’s that type of perspective that you find from people who live in old houses. It’s a love for imperfection caused by years of wear and tear. A love of fine craftsmanship from a day gone by that is hard to find in new construction these days. If you want it, you have to pay a dear price, whereas at the turn of the century most men had to know how to work with their hands and took immense pride in what they created.

Photo by Jørgen Håland on Unsplash

So this house is made of redwood and it gets hot. I asked my son why the electric company sent us a notice informing us that I used too much electricity-more electricity than 100 of my neighbors within a mile radius. He matter of factly told me; you live in an old house. A lot of the comparable were with neighbors from up the street. They have new modern systems that don’t use as much energy to cool their homes. You know the houses are air tight and stuccoed as well and help to stabilize the temperature.

I appreciate the benefits of stucco, but redwood is so beautiful and strong that it’s hard for me to see past that. The older the wood is, the more value it holds. Old wood is sturdy and tough and great for building. It comes from trees that lived long lives before they were cut down. It can be as hard as cement.The wood holds a spirit and character that lends a certain ambience when you build a home out of it.

Oh I know, you are probably thinking that trees and wood don’t have personality or life. My beliefs are different. Trees keep us alive and without trees, human life would not exist. Trees, especially ancient trees have lived through climate change, wars, pollution and natural disasters. They absorb the stuff of life and it’s held within their roots, trunk and foliage. When a tree is harvested for building, along with it’s wood comes all of the energy and nutrients it absorbed over it’s lifespan. The wood holds all of that and it holds it for a long time. The oldest wooden house in the world is over 700 years old. The house is in Switzerland and the local belief is that as long as someone lives in the house and lives a good life, it will remain strong and provide a safe and comfortable shelter.

Photo by Joel & Jasmin Førestbird on Unsplash

When I was in the market for a house, I fell in love with my old house at first sight. There was an inexplicable ambience when I walked through the front door that was hard to describe. It was pleasant and gentle, almost a loving feeling that permeated the warm and musty interior. Later, I found out that the house had been lived in by many good people. A farmer, a Navy officer, teachers, an attorney and many more. A passionate teen romance had played itself out on the second story of the house. In the attic were old love letters stashed away and favorite toys. The couple had cast their initials with a heart in cement next to the vintage light post outside.

Certain days during the summer, I’ll go up to the second story where it’s almost impossible to cool down the rooms and sit in the heat and soak in the hot air, the agedness of the house. The smell of the redwood and old plaster is released into the atmosphere. Memories of my own life, raising my children in the house, restoration projects and community meetings move about the room and come to life. It’s deeply satisfying and spiritual; an affirmation that the circle of life is there and goes on beautifully with love and care.

Photo by Edgar Guerra on Unsplash

Uncategorized

Salvage

Photo by Nathan Anderson on Unsplash




I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to attend the Redlands Historical Glass Museum auction some weeks ago. I wandered through the coolness of the host’s dark, ancient house. The air was calm, but gently stirred by the other guests attending the function.  We all moved quietly and carefully, navigating spaces between ancient furnishings, books and each other.  Long tables were set out with small delicate glass dishes that sparkled and caught the faint rays of light permeating the room. Beautiful antique furniture, carved carefully and with love, stood sturdily and elegantly in their places.  The dark wood glowing and emanating a warm and earthy smell with hints of oil and polish.  The walls reached upward toward lofty ceilings coated with glossy dark paint, the color of an overripe strawberry.  I gazed upward at the vaulted ceilings coated with ancient plaster. Small rivulets of cracks twisted indiscriminately across the palette of plaster. I knew the air was cooler up there, because I could feel it circling softly around my head.  Burnished mirrors hung strategically around the room to reflect  light that managed to make a path into the dim room. This was salvage.  Preservation.

When I moved into my old house over a decade ago, I was entranced by the thought of waking up everyday surrounded by old wood, wavy glass, carved molding and soft wood floors. The essence of many lives lived, were within the walls and permeated the old structure.  The home had been well cared for and loved and that’s why she stood so solid and still as the decades past.  Her joints and fittings holding strong and true.  Her foundation rising  rock solid from the old farming dirt she stood upon.  She had been cared for well.  This was preservation.

Part of preservation is salvaging.  It’s hard to find new parts for old houses of the same quality from hundreds of years ago.    If you get into the process, it’s important to connect with resources and delve into it.  Preservationists are a unique breed.  They usually love history and everything left that’s still tangible and connected with it.  Every part is valuable, even old nails, fittings and broken tile.  You never know where that odd piece might fit.  To connect with another likeminded salvager is a joy. To know another person that understands the joy of finding that perfect piece or working on something until it becomes just what you need to complete a project.   Salvagers often pass pieces back and forth just for the joy of sharing a find or finding it a safe home.

It’s not easy work.  Old house parts are musty, dirty and old chemicals often cling to the pieces.  The parts of an old house are put together so well that it’s difficult to wrench pieces free.  Besides using brute strength, you have to use grace and coordination to make sure you twist and pull just so, or the piece maybe fatally deranged beyond repair. You must pry and  tap with just the right amount of pressure as not to leave marks in  old wood grain or on old metal pieces. Why do it?  Why expose yourself to hot old houses caked in grime and toxic chemicals from the past?  Because beneath it all lies the treasure and a legacy.  A legacy of craftsmanship that stemmed from people being proud of their trade and working hard in every sense of the word. Craftsman, who worked with their hands and crude tools to create beautiful and incomparable pieces of a caliber that is little seen today.




Among my travels perusing the various local events that offered to lovers of history  I ended up at the Peter Weber House in Riverside the other day. I had some vintage light fixtures I’d found abandoned in my alley and thought they may come of use to  a local restorer. The Old Riverside Foundation manages the salvage program there;  they  have a great collection of salvage and I needed a front door too.  The Weber house is a work of art and a fine example of old world craftsmanship.  Weber, a local architect; who built his home from scratch in the 1930’s, created artful patterns using brick and carved wood.  Every inch of the house, from floor to ceiling has a creative flair. Many of the designs are Moorish in origin and inspired by his travels abroad.  He brought back a treasure trove of design inspiration which he incorporated into his home. Stars carved into wooden panels,  painted turquoise, coral and green, punctuated the panels in strategic locations.   It’s a tiny home, but completely magical in form. As I walked through the home, inspiration hit me and I tried to picture myself carving intricate wood paneling and placing brick in unique patterns to build my walls. Luckily, I had the morning free to daydream and take my time walking through the home.    On the way out, I picked up a really cool bumper sticker for a dollar to help save the Riverside Chinatown archaeological site.  This was a perfect morning to me, this was preservation.




Uncategorized

Paint Now




This is my mantra as of late.  I’m trying to be decisive about the colors to paint my house.  It should be easy, right?  Maybe, but maybe not.  I’ve learned recently that there are a lot of factors to consider.  I’ve also learned it’s easy to get caught up in the minutia.

First color. So many colors. More than ever before.  Over the past ten years, paint companies have become quite sophisticated and broadened their perspectives.  The last time I painted my house, the choices were definitely more limited.  There were the appropriate colors to use and that was it.   There were a few breakthroughs along the tropical lines, but mostly the palettes were sedate.

It’s exciting and beautiful to experience all  of the new pigments and I’ve found myself diving into color psychology.  Color has the ability to conjure up emotions and create ambiance.  I’ve been noticing that most houses are pretty sedate.   I’ve done some research and experts recommend that you blend in with your neighbors and not disturb the neighbor with distracting colors.   I’ve driven through countless neighborhoods to derive inspiration from the available palettes.  Some neighborhoods are quite colorful.  People using color liberally.  Bright colors abounding and calling out like colorful jungle birds. One colorful neighborhood in particular was colorful neighborhood in a historic downtown where people collect antiques and hot rods.  The culture here is patriotic and fun and a celebrated university is nearby.  Some other neighborhoods are subdued and tasteful. The colors make sense and blend seemlessly with the environment. This sensible and clever neighborhood was another historic university town. But the University here is private, well established and ranks beside schools such as Yale and Harvard. The top minds in the world gather here to be trained.




I live on a alley, so what is my environment? I have black pavement lined with green bamboo. Some broken fences, occasionally garbage, an old shed with a two tunnels running under it. One of the tunnels is  used by my cat, possums and squirrels and the other tunnel is inhabited by lovely bees.  My house is historic, a teacher built it and loved it.  She built a house for her sister across the street and there used to be a well worn path between the two. The houses were painted white then; as all middle class bungalows were.   Should I stay true to the era and history or go for something new and entertaining?

Probably not.  It wouldn’t suit the tastes of modern America where we have a myriad of choices for everything.   Not saying that’s a bad thing.  It’s all part of the process of advancement.  Evolving as Darwin would put it.  So where are my Darwinian inclinations taking me to?  To all kinds of colors and wishing I could use them all. I have at least three favorite themes; western, tropical and psychedelic, but probably western is the most acceptable for a house built in 1916 in a quiet family neighborhood. So this would lead to browns, tans, greens, reds, blue and maybe patriotic purple. The choice is there and I’m warming to it, but it’s not like the first time I chose a theme for the house. The first time, I was trying to bring out the best bungalow characteristics of my bungalow at that time. I was trying to incorporate elements of history while making a new statement.  For the green, I chose a deep forest green.  It represented health and growth.  A great color for that stage of my life, when I was raising two children and working on my career. I had four colors to create with rather than the standard three. I chose claret red, a blush tone and white for the other three. I tried to choose colors that struck a chord with earth elements. I ended up with one earth color, the green.  Bungalows were conceived as a new form of dwelling that was simple, practical and closer to nature.  The bungalow lifestyle was to inspire health and honor are connection with the earth.  Wood moldings and flooring were the major elements and the outside siding was often not painted and the wood stained  As America grew and prospered, painting became the trend and if you could afford a tinted paint, you were declaring your affluence.




The question is, should your house color really be some personal quest to reflect your personality? Or should it just be a practical process that’s not emotional in any  way. It’s funny  how some of us would never really think to deeply about a house color choice and then those of us who analyze, ponder and consider endlessly.  I found myself kind of tortured by the whole thing, which is such a contrast to how I felt about picking house colors a decade ago. I used to be excited by the idea and was very sure of myself and the statement I wanted to make to the world.  I wanted  to make my little craftsman, the best restoration possible on a single mom’s income.   This time; having lived through aging, menopause, children growing up, going away, getting married, family deaths, sickness, a tumbling economy, the emergence of the internet, a war and significant changes in the fabric of daily life, I found myself questioning a whole lot of things that didn’t even have anything to do with painting a house.  Somehow each color would stimulate my thoughts and my brain would be off on a jaunt contemplating the ways of the world and my place in it.

Photo by Talles Alves on Unsplash

Finally, the process was wearing me out.  I decided to drive through more historic neighborhoods and just pick a theme that looked nice and that I could picture myself going home to everyday.   Once home,  I looked everything over and then cut swatches from the paint store color wheel.  I  picked colors that felt good and would blend harmoniously with the neighborhood and nature.  I decided to pick and stick no matter what. My stomach churned and my throat muscles clenched.  I did some deep breaths and convinced myself this anxiety was ridiculous.  I smiled my brave smile; my everything is always OK smile.  I conjured up my family member’s voices in the back of my head, coaching me and telling me I could always paint over it and start over if it didn’t work out.  I buckled down and picked.

The next day I handed the colors over to my painter with my deepest apologies for my indecision and delay. We went over the scheme and where the colors would go.  They were kind.  I played it cool.  The deed was done and I prayed secretly that I’d figured it out.