Substitute Teacher!
While Carey Maloney and Hermes Mallea of M (Group) are visiting Cuba (Hermes’ ancestral home) over the holidays, restoration enthusiasts in need of a quick fix might want to check out Interiority Complex, the blog of Joe Williamson and Dale Saylor, who are in the midst of a gut renovation of their classic, 1827 center-hall Colonial in North Chatham. Warning: Because you will be tuning in late, click “previous,” instead of “next” to turn the pages.
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Posted by Marilyn Bethany on 12/18/08 at 07:14 AM • Permalink
The Inside Story Begins with the Dining Room
Rural Restoration blogger Carey Maloney is back, his shattered elbow now sufficiently healed for him to type (soon he’ll be up to feeding himself!). As promised, with the change in weather, we are bringing our saga of the restoration/decoration of a 19th-century riverfront Livingston mansion indoors, at last getting a close look at the interior work that Maloney and his partner in M (Group), Hermes Mallea, have done on The House over the past few years.
Since it’s the Holidays, let’s start in the Dining Room. For some, that can be a trophy room, seldom used. For our Clients, it is a room used frequently and well. She loves the holidays and is a great cook and a welcoming hostess (and she’s got a job—makes me tired just thinking about it). Her silver is always out and polished (with silver, shiny is good) and the best china features regularly —yet another reason we get along so well. I’m from the South and have a mother who is big on entertaining. Growing up, our dining rooms were frequently used—at a minimum, once a week. Every Thursday dinner, the family broke away from the breakfast room, suited up, and sat in the dining room for lessons in finger-bowl comportment, fish forks, and asparagus tongs.
HM and I love doing dining rooms—they’ve got one purpose, so they have a focus other rooms often lack. They don’t have that much furniture—so what’s there can be extra nice. Mirrors (used well, mirrors are your BFF) work particularly well in dining rooms. The furniture layout usually results in several good art walls (i.e. above the sideboard). All in all, we love ‘em. And The House has a beautiful one— in the southwest corner, it is a lovely rectangle, with tall windows, and views down and across the river. Architecturally, it’s got the house’s signature BIG door surrounds, a plaster crown, and a chair rail.
We started with the rug, our usual Step 1. Until you’ve got the rug, you can’t do any real fabric or color work. This one is a huge palace rug, a 19th-century Indian (Agra) carpet covered with flora and fauna. Indian rugs have a wonderful palette—so different from their Persian counterparts. The pale blues, acidy greens, beiges, instead of the jewel and earth tones of Persion rugs, indicate a more Hindu mindset. You can get wacky combinations too—a purple and green rug—that you’ll never find in a Persian. The Clients indulge my rug fetish—they’ve picked winners all over the house. This one really has that “magic carpet” quality. I always aim high: Carpets trump a wood floor, even these really fun floors. We cover them up, and we’ve still got acres of wood floor showing. Rugs rule.
With the rug signed off on, we then enlisted paint specialists Donald Kaufman and Taffy Dahl to come up from town for our color consultation. The Kaufmans are the best—trust me—and their advice has been invaluable to M (Group) for over 20 years. We only use Donald Kaufman Color paints (off the rack) and Donald Kaufman custom colors in our work. They serve us and our clients well.
We stuck with one trim color throughout the ground floor and up through the second floor stairhall. We like the continuity of color flowing from room to room. Instead of using off-white, which would have looked too fresh, we use a more yellowed, almost beige color—sort of a pre-aged thing. (In the photos everything looks white-white, but it’s not.) We chose a ceiling color—a champagne-y white—that would work in the front hall, living room, and dining room. These constants allow us to use a different wall color in each room and not have it look chaotic. There’s consistency and calm.
Donald Kaufman paints have long numbers instead of names, so I can’t tell you what the dining room color is officially called. But for convenience, let’s call it Periwinkle (“Periwinkle!!?”)—a medium blue with lots of violet. Warm and lovely in candle light, it is also beautiful in sunlight. As blues go, it is upbeat, but tempered. Because of the rug, we had to go blue, but I wanted a warm blue. If you saw it in person, you wouldn’t know whether to call it blue or lavender.
Once the paint colors were chosen, I pounded the pavement to the D& D Building in search of non-silk taffeta, and darned if I didn’t find the perfect one at Old World Weavers—118” wide (always useful) and 100% polyester (the western sun would fry silk in two years), slightly iridescent with a rusty brown undertone. In the photos, it looks flashier than it actually is—in life, it is more glow-y than shine-y. Last step: order tie backs from Paris, because the Parisians do passementerie better than anyone. We opted for a 20th-century design—simple and not too bulky (big tie back tassels can be bulky)..
The curtain poles and rings are mahogany with water-gilded details and water-gilded acanthus finials. Water gilding is bright and shiney. Oil gilding is more flat. At first I pushed for distressed, but the Client reminded me that from way down where we stood in this tall-ceilinged room, subtle would disappear. This gilding will age—but not much. Our resource for curtain rods is Joseph Biunno Ltd.. Joe always understands what we are after, whether grand and gold, or hammered iron and Moderne.
We looked for a table for three years. At 40 inches wide, the one in the photos above is too narrow for this room. Since these pictures were taken, it has been replaced with a handsome, 54-inch Georgian table. With dining tables, reproduction is often the best route (major asset: stability), but, in this case, we held out for 18th century. The Clients love wood, and the new table is made from fantastic mahogany.
Good things come to those who wait (in a perfect world…). Now, with furniture that spans the 18th- and 19th-centuries, the Aesthetic Movement (1880s) fireplace, and a chandelier that could be original to the 1860 house, the room looks as if it evolved naturally over its 150-year lifespan. Chairs are still on the Wish List. The Regency style lyre-back chairs are good for now, but we hope for something taller and more substantial in the future. (Beware of chairs that are fragile—Regency can be. Nothing’s worse than pushing back a chair and hearing the rear leg snap (been there…). Strength and comfort are key.
When we first installed this room, I imagined that, upon seeing it complete, the Livingston ghosts (a happy bunch, I’m sure) clutched each other and squealed “OMG. We’re rich again!”
A few more dining rooms we’ve done:
The townhouse dining room at right features a painting April Gornick flanked by 19th century Italian mirrors. The dining chairs are by Jacques Adnet (French 1940’s) covered in their original Hermes leather. The table was bought in Paris—it was blond wood—and Stair Restoration in Claverack (world-class restorers right here in our own backyard!) ebonized it for us. I found the chandelier in Sotheby’s warehouse—a beat up mass of crystals and metal. We sent it to Pell Artifex, New York’s premier lighting restorer, and voila!—it came back an intact Regency light that was then appraised at five times the purchase price! (A happy ending—that broken mess was a very hard sell)
HM designed the paneling with inset antiqued mirror in the dining room at left to complement the other public rooms. You enter a front hall that is completely paneled, move into a living room that is glazed plaster which opens onto the dining room that is, again, completely paneled—rhythm, right? Like everything else, there is good antiqued mirror and not good. This was made by Mirror Fair and is the best. The painting is by Helen Frankenthaler. The chairs are Queen Anne style—generous and padded—with gilded legs. The table is 18th-century English. The rug is an antique Persian from Tarbriz.
The client for this room collects great French Art Deco furniture and contemporary Chinese art. The table and chairs are by Emile Ruhlmann and were lacquered by Jean Dunand. This combination is tres rare and tres cher. The bronze crane chandelier is by Albert Cheuret. (Housekeeping hint: be extra careful with alabaster shades. High-wattage bulbs get so hot the stone “burns,“ (turns opaque white). Alabaster cannot be repaired, only replaced. And you want your Cheuret shades to be original! )
And finally, a book:
Sixty Years of Interior Design; The World of McMillen by Erica Brown (Viking Press) is a must-have for the interior design library. McMillen worked from the Roaring ’20’s through the Psychedelic ‘70’s and still exists today—beautiful and very fancy work for names like Vanderbilt, Duke, Paley etc.
Eleanor Brown’s dining room on the cover is a favorite—maybe because it confirms my ramblings above? Simple and elegant and sort of ‘clean’ feeling. Lots of hard surfaces – not that we’re expecting food fights, but dining rooms should feel hygienic. The only soft furnishings should be the rug and the curtains – never wall upholstery or tapestries hanging. Mrs. Brown opted for yellow leather chairs – the same as my childhood dining chairs. Very practical – and with age they look better.
The statues of the four seasons are by Wheeler Williams (circa 1940) and have been reproduced and are sold at Quatrain in Los Angeles. Coincidentally I just saw a handsome Baby Neptune fountain by Williams at Fun House Antiques in Hudson last weekend, and we have a Baby Pegasus at our house. Wheeler Williams (American, 1897-1972) may be experiencing a comeback.
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Posted by Marilyn Bethany on 12/01/08 at 01:32 PM • Permalink
The Gates – Part Two: Landscaping
Editor’s note: In the first week in November, Carey Maloney slipped on some marble stairs and shattered his right elbow. Consequently, he will be unable to write new blog entries for some time. We apologize to his fans who, we trust, join us in wishing him a speedy recovery.
In this episode, the M (Group)‘s favorite landscape design firm, Kelly Varnell Virgona, presents a plan for planting the entry by the gates, and Carey Maloney complains about holly-munching (ouch!) deer.
The Gates landscape will be simple and will continue our design goal of “neat but not gaudy.“ But first, a word about deer. This year, the owners of The Horse Farm across the road from The House ripped out the old ragged plants around their gate and optimistically replaced them with what they assumed was deer-proof shrubbery—holly. Sadly, the holly has already been destroyed (and it isn’t even cold yet!).
I’m no gardener, but let’s take a moment, right at the outset, to recite the Country Mantra: Nothing is “deer proof.“ You’re lucky to get ‘deer resistant’ in our neck of the woods. (How desperate does an animal have be to eat holly? Imagine those soft lips and those spines… Sort of makes me sick.)
On our side of the road, in a field, we have herds of 20 to 30 deer every evening. Bucolic and charming, all the scene lacks is a Marlin Perkins voice-over. It gives me a misguided sense of pride when our landscapers say that our deer are the most voracious and indiscriminate eaters they have ever encountered. Is it because the state park and convent do not allow hunting? The land was never cleared, so the woods are deep. The population is vast and growing. No hope for an under-story.
But enough whining about the deer—I’m preachin’ to the choir. (Hmm - I’d better stop the affectation of leaving off my g’s. A politician whose name shall not pass my lips has usurped my folksy Southernism for her own evil purposes. It’s just as well. Folksy I am not…) Our landscape designer Kelly Varnell Virgona (KVV) has come up with a simple, elegant and appropriate design for the entrance gate (drawing below). The four existing trees—the ones that were planted on purpose—will remain. The two ugly wild interlopers (photo above) that took root on their own will be eliminated, and two new shade trees will be added. The plant materials may change once The Clients are shown what’s available. But, for now, a hedge of green barberry (full sun and you-know-what resistant) will arch in the opposite direction from the stone walls. (KVV tells me the green barberry is hard to find—and personally, I am no fan of red plants, so we’ll see.) Ferns will be mounded around (deer don’t like them but they (vengefully?) trod on them to get to the other stuff). Spirea and myrica (bayberry) will be massed on each side.
KVV followed our design directive—we like to use a limited ‘vocabulary’ of plant materials, and we like to use each choice liberally. Simple, drought-and-deer-resistant, and low maintenance— after two summers of supplemental “truck watering,” they will be on their own.
Reading List
Elizabeth Barlow Rogers founded the Central Park Conservancy (where KVV designed Strawberry Fields, FYI) and in 2001 founded the Bard College landscape design course (see last week’s blog). She wrote Landscape Design; A Cultural and Architectural History (Abrams, 2001), and it is a must-have book. The title conveys the scope—vast and dense but very enlightening.
And give your favorite antiquarian bookdealer the assignment of finding you a copy of a volume we cherish: Modern Gardens and the Landscape by Elizabeth B. Kassler (published by The Museum of Modern Art in 1964). We were given a client’s copy by her grandson after her death. She had amazing houses and apartments designed by Wallace Harrison, Philip Johnson, and Maison Jansen. Her design files and books give wonderful insights into a post-WWII Design Hound’s interests. To give an idea of the scale of her houses, the Mt. Desert Island place had a dining table carved on site by Isamu Noguchi, that followed the curve of the coastline (which could be seen through curved sheets of glass). Commissioned Milton Avery landscapes of ‘their’ Maine coastline hung on the wall behind it. Cutting edge then, cutting edge now (as if anyone is bright or brave enough to make that leap today. Where are the true Patrons? A heroic bunch—the de Menil’s come to mind…)
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Posted by Marilyn Bethany on 10/08/08 at 05:26 PM • Permalink
A Sense of Arrival: The Gates, The Name, and The Drive
While the builders do their thing with the porches, blogger Carey Maloney turns his attention to other pressing matters. For those who are tuning in late, interior designer Maloney and his partner, architect Hermes Mallea, of the M (Group), own a ranch house on a piece of riverfront property that years ago belonged to The House whose renovation is the subject of this blog. Their place shares a common driveway with The House.
As I mentioned early on, The Driveway is pretty cool—long and well-paved, passing through open fields, woods, orchards, more woods, until you arrive at The House. HM and I first experienced The Driveway on our bikes. We’d rented a house up the road for a few summers and cycled past frequently—more often than not rolling our eyes at the imposing stone piers with big iron scroll-y gates and two bronze name plaques inset. The bronze plaques were the kicker—very “Psychoneurotic Institute for the Very Very Nervous.” Trop parvenu (oh, how I wish I were parvenu; I’d be so good at it.)
When a local real estate guy sent us to see what would become our house, we actually got to enter this Narnia.
So this episode will get us through the gates, past the name, and onto the drive.
The Gates
We’ve done gates for clients in high traffic areas like Greenwich (brick columns) or Holmby Hills (split rail electronic gate and a dirt driveway right off Sunset Boulevard—sort of Anti-Kidnap Chic). They can serve a purpose—privacy and (minimal) security. But in Columbia County? Very Non-U.
On our road: Wood drive gate flanked by pedestrian gates; personal favorite. Stone piers with simple wood gate—what’s not to love? The House’s Gate: See what I mean?
No one on our road has anything vaguely like these 1960s suckers (above right)—thank god; they’re overkill. They have that lonely, “Southfork” feel—big “security” gates that really don’t keep anyone out. (You simply walk around them to enter, rob, and pillage.)
Tall stone piers and walls support 10’-tall iron gates, with the original electronic openers (enormous by current standards). The stone is highly mica’d. It glitters (nothing wrong with glitter—in its place—but it’s place is not Columbia County). To top it off, the stone is veneer: thin cleaved bits (2” - 3” thick) mounted to the substructure. We always want real stone—chunks of stone—never veneer. But we got veneer.
In its heyday (1965), there was a guard posted out there at the gate—how lonely was that job? Even today, there are electrical and telephone lines from the house to the gate (maybe a mile of wiring)—very 007.
Over the years, neither The Clients nor We have paid them much attention—for us, they’ve merged into the landscape. But we all know First Impression’s are KEY, so now we need to address them, if only to clean up the mess and get rid of the few ‘60’s plants that have survived (against all odds), and the 20th-century weeds that have grown trunks.
Not that I haven’t had ideas—stucco the stone (wrong), stain it dark to lessen the glare (has potential), slap a coat of Rustoleum on the gates before they fall off, eliminate the bronze cemetery plaques or patinate them so dark, you can’t read them. But I don’t own them, so I’ve held back. Now that I have been officially hired and can weigh in—not as a Neighbor but as a Design Professional, I’m very proud.
Signage and The Name
You can name your house Maggie, as far as I’m concerned, but that doesn’t make it Clarence House or Mandalay. (I guess it makes it Maggie.) House names are dicey…a tiny misstep and you’ve got an Upson-Downs level of pretension going on. HM and I have come up with some doozies for our place—usually in response to hearing someone refer to their unremarkable prefab as Halcyon Manor. A favorite is “Maison de Mille Bienvenues,“ a petit chateau in the piney woods (read: gene ditch) of East Texas. FYI, our house was listed as “The Casino” on the electric panel box. I love that name, but the mobster was thinking Vegas not Veneto. We’ll stick with the street number as our “name,“ a habit after years in NYC using addresses to refer to projects (“820,“ “720,“ “770,“ “834,“ etc. And if you have to ask…)
Northwood, pretty near perfect; Mountain View: I’m speechless; Charming use of brick and stone—very Arts-and-Craftsy. However, the stainless numbers add an unwelcome jolt of modernity (I would have played down the numbers for reasons obvious to most of us… Some puerile sense of humor at play?)
The House (which, for security purposes, shall remain nameless here) has a name, a keeper from the 1860’s. But discretion is key: Presently, the House’s name is mounted à la Woodlawn Cemetery on both piers—one wasn’t enough? (To order bronze plaques for your front gate Google: Grave Marker.) So I would keep the name—but perhaps display it on a slightly more ‘tasteful’ (horrible word) sign? I say, go for the homemmake look. Grab some kids, some paint, a board, a gin and tonic and/or a doobie and make a sign.
The Driveway
When we moved to our house, upon being introduced to one of our grand new neighbors, she suggested that we replace the blacktop driveway with gravel. “Blacktop is so commercial.” (Read: déclassé.) Well, let me tell you something: After one winter and one spring—plows slicing above it, water running off it—you’d be a dope to remove the blacktop. And a quick calculation of the removal cost exceeded seven figure, which would elevate you from mere Dope to Complete Lunatic (albeit Rich). So the blacktop stays.
True, we may not like the look (FYI, it starts out shiny black, but it grays down quickly), but we like the functionality. Moreover, I maintain that The Driveway needs to be maintained—if only weeded to keep the seams from bursting (without intervention, plants will demo the thing in a few short years). One suggestion was ‘ignore the potholes”—but to me, this is like a woman with bad legs who stops shaving them (where did that analogy come from? I like it. The mind [mine] is a strange thing). You gotta maintain stuff—even stuff you don’t like. There is a fine line between Old Money shabby and Trashy. Me? I aim for the Southern House Proud look. “Neat but not Gaudy,” as we say in Texas.
The drive meanders through open fields and around Hermes’ dreaded “dead man’s curve.“
The layout of the drive is great—long straight-aways (super for acceleration) and charming curved bits. HM finds the curves less charming than I do; but then, his side of the car (read: the passenger seat) was on the tree side when I mis-estimated one snowy winter night. There’s even a Granary in the distance, painted barn red with white trim. Our little Rural Folly.
Next time we’ll talk re: KVV’s landscape plans—including The Gates—and delve into stone, gravel, and brick.
Books
The Landscape Master, for us, was Russell Page. What magnificent gardens this man created. His first commission was Longleat in the 1930’s (‘nuff said) and later commissions include the gardens at the Frick and PepsiCo’s Purchase, New York sculpture garden in the 1980’s. Do yourself a favor and check out The Gardens of Russell Page by Marina Schinz. The chapter on “Trees and Water” is brilliant (the entire book is brilliant).
And of course, Sunset has books on Gates. Our library’s entry is from 1975 How to Build Gates and Fences. There is always info to be gleaned from the editors at Sunset.
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Posted by Marilyn Bethany on 09/23/08 at 10:51 AM • Permalink
The Porches – The Design Phase Heats Up
After comparing and contrasting virtually every baluster in two counties, our restoration blogger Carey Maloney and his partner Hermes Mallea of M (Group) have (beautiful!) drawings. If you ever wondered what designers do, and why it costs so much, check out this process: It may not be rocket science, but it’s close.
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The house, porchless (left) as it is now and (right) as it will be someday soon (they hope).
Well, the Field Trip phase is over (Too bad.. It was fun..) and the design phase for the exterior work has entered its final stage before all is turned over to the builder for pricing.
Now that I think about it, the Field Trip phase continues, in a way. We seem unable to drive by an old house—or shack—without Hermes piping up, “Can we stop? Can we stop?” for yet more photos of its details. Once, on another project, the Beverly Hills police intervened when we lingered too long documenting, if I remember correctly, a sorry house but with a great front door (I mean, we were in The Flats for crying out loud! On a public street!) Happily, the Rhinebeck constabulary hasn’t nailed us yet. But I digress…
As I’ve mentioned, we love the idea of both upper and lower sets of balusters. (Above, note the no-baluster portico roof in the photo at left, and the ones with balusters in the drawing at right.) Very swell. So there will be LOTS of these turned wood balusters—483 give or take. This huge number makes this element uber-important. A profile that is too simple or too bulbous will not have the visual impact that a crisper silhouette will give us. Bear in mind, these will be seen from many vintage points—dead-on, from below, and from the sides—and all at once. There is a lot of interplay to take into account. Think: Rhythm.
Our baluster design is a variation on a number of the local examples we saw. On paper we love it. That said, a full-sized sample will be made and inevitably it will get tweaked. Most of a baluster’s elements have human names—Belly, Neck, Beak, so our tweaking will be sort of like an exploratory visit to the plastic surgeon—carve off a bit of the Belly, make the Hip a bit fuller.
At right you see Clermont’s back porch, added after 1870. These balusters are too thin for us, but we like the bold curve of the handrail.
Left, another neighbor— Belly too big for our taste and the height is too short to satisfy building codes.
Right, Montgomery Place—closer to our goal.
The new River facade staircase was the source of much discussion with The Owners. Stairs are complicated—the rise (total height of set) and the run (total length of set) obviously impact the design. We always seek to achieve “graceful” but you gotta make them work too—easy to walk up and down. (Fun fact: My stair man in NYC tells me that a difference in height between steps of ¼” results in a stumble factor. We recently completed a duplex with handsome existing iron stairs that required 1/32” layers added under the Oriental runner to correct for this tiny—and definitely trip-inducing—difference at the top step.)
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HM and I love the elegance of an upper run of stairs between the lower runs—so we pressed for the C shape instead of a straight stair. Plus the height made us nervous about straight—it seemed too long and too high—sort of like Harmonia Gardens in Hello Dolly. We think a C’s “got elegance” (and to quote Cornelius and Barnaby, “If you ain’t got elegance, you can never ever carry it off.”) So we sang and danced and got the C shape (note stairs at left on plan below—see? a backward C).
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OK—what follows comes under the heading TMI (Too Much Information) but… Keeping in mind that there is a fine line between too linear or too curvaceous, we’ve opted for a flat handrail that curves at the ends where it meets the newel posts (see detail, below).
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We also opted for a stringer, as opposed to exposed risers (in the drawing above the stringer is transparent; in life, of course, it will block the view of the steps from the sides), which allows the balusters to be evenly spaced without worrying where they land on each step. Sometime, carefully study a staircase (you can do it). There are multiple balusters and some steps may have two and some three. (My personal favorite is the McKim Mead & White house with three different styles of balusters on each step. Sort of a ragtime rhythm.) On ours, note how our evenly-spaced balusters would sit on the stairs without a stringer. Chaos! With a stringer, not a problem. Finally, look at the tops of the balusters—see how the height varies as each meets the rail? Aaargh…stairs!
HM’s best staircase to date—six floors floating. Magic.
As for our reading list, first I suggest The American Vignola by William R. Ware (The Norton Library). Way TMI but a great resource. Where else would I learn that our balustrade (if I understand Mr. Ware) has a Quirked Cyma Reversal…?
And The Emergency Committee’s (cool name) Great Georgian Houses of America Volume II includes Montgomery Place and Clermont. This book answered our questions regarding Clermont’s 3rd floor (added post 1870) and confirms bigger ain’t necessarily better. (Dover Press—we know my affinity for Dover).
As I was looking at the American shelves in our office library, I glommed onto Paul R. Williams, Architect (Rizzoli). Williams worked primarily in California in a variety of styles that departed from strict Classicism. Born in 1894, he was an anomaly—a very successful African-American architect designing houses in “restricted” neighborhoods (for Desi and Lucy, Zsa Zsa, Frank Sinatra), as well as clubs and hotels like Chasen’s and the Beverly Hills Hotel, where he would not be served. His 1937 Music Corporation of America headquarters (below) in Beverly Hills is soooo chic. An architect to be admired on multiple levels.
Paul R. Williams’ MCA building, Beverly Hills
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Posted by Marilyn Bethany on 09/10/08 at 04:50 PM • Permalink
Rural Restoration: The Porches—New and Improved
The restoration comedy continues as guest blogger, interior designer Carey Maloney, of M (Group) and his partner (who is doing most of the heavy lifting at this point), architect Hermes Mallea, research every detail of the once and future porches of their 1870 Hudson River house project.
In the beginning, there were Porches. Now, alas, long gone. They were there in the 1920’s (above), partially gone by the 30’s (below) and then our info stops.
Now, we need them in place to execute the landscape and the hardscape. The new kitchen, opening onto the north porch, needs one, too. The excavation and building process will be a mess.
Readers, I hope I don’t disappoint, but this isn’t a slavish PBS-ish restoration, with us scraping bits of paint to have them analyzed or worrying over lattice dimensions that weren’t very good in the first place. We aim to make the porches to a new ideal (our ideal, granted): “New and Improved.” And I’m voting for no holds barred. If they deem it necessary, the Clients will provide the restraint; HM and I want to make this house to be formidable.
HM, being an architect with a masters in historic preservation (read: Strict), attacked the project with his typical academic fervor. Me? I just watch and opine frequently, often without any informed basis for my opinions. The Clients supplied the photo (left) of the house in snow sans porches, from a 1930s Christmas card. Wow – two whole pictures! These constitute the sum of our original documents. Thin but better than nothing.
We then sought help from Hudson River Heritage—a resource we first discovered when we restored a great place in Rhinebeck (the Olmsted Brothers did the landscape. ’Nuf said.) They didn’t have info on this specific house but we added to our collection of bad copies of old photos of houses of the same era and approximate locale. All sources are useful. (And HM believes in images. Servers full of images…)
Next we started the field trip phase (happily the farthest was 7 miles away). HM booked a visit to Montgomery Place (above), a grand house made even grander over a forty-year period in the mid-1800s first by Louise Livingston (native of Haiti—bet her taste was crazy—colonial and over-the-top romantic) and later by her daughter Coralie Barton, both working with the great Romantic Movement architect A. J. Davis. Montgomery Place is a Classical Revival house—with applied plaster and wood decorations plus flanking semi-circular porticos. Just a great house. The applied decorations are so chic. The exterior paint has sand in it for a stone texture—beyond chic. We measured, and photographed, and pondered.
Then we called all of our neighbors, immediately north or south, and did the same. Measure, compare, critique. It was a treat to visit under the aegis of “research.“ “Can we come take photos and measure your house?” Six houses fell under our X-ray stares/raised eyebrows. “Odd choice,” HM muttered into his tape measure’s microphone—very Cuban Maxwell e-Smart. (Not that we are critical; ask anyone. Everyone will tell you,“They are not critical…“)
Armed with the information/inspiration gleaned from the neighbors, Hermes & Co. hit the drafting tables. Sketches were reviewed with The Clients, revisions made, balustrades debated over. We lobbied strongly (FYI - I can be A dog with A bone…) in favor of the upper balustrades. Granted, pricey (ouch)—but more finished, no? “In for a penny…“
There are lots of details to thrash out—from hard stuff like maximizing the height of the crawlspace underneath the porch (great potting/storage area) to the easy stuff like the color for the porch ceiling (pale sky blue, said to dissuade mosquitoes).
So more on the design phase soon, with drawings to show. Then once construction starts, we’ll break out the full-size mock ups of the bits and pieces. NEVER underestimate the value of Visuals. When in doubt, mock it up. In ‘real wood’ or kraft paper—size matters.
As to reference books, first up is Historic Houses of the Hudson Valley, a Dover Book (we LOVE Dover Books!) by Harold Donaldson Eberlein and Cortlandt Van Dyke Hubbard (huh? Say what?) Montgomery Place has pride of place on the cover.
Andrew J. Davis, architect, wrote a seminal (love that word) American design book— The Architecture of Country Houses and Dover publishes it. (See why we love Dover?) .
My final Dover plug. Every NYC library should have Dover’s classic New York’s Fabulous Luxury Apartments: with Original Floor Plans from the Dakota, River House, Olympic Tower and Other Great Buildings. by Andrew Alpern. The title is pretty out there, no? A really useful source for floorplans. (My apartment is in there—touch me.)
The Architect and the American Country House by Mark Alan Hewitt. OK - It covers a later period – 1890-1940. And it is a wonderful period of BIG bucks being spent on BIG houses. Glory days for residential architects (it was all about domestic staff). Lots of illustrations of beyond grand houses (and, by the way, in case there is any misconception, architects do not die rich. You look at Biltmore and think ChaChing but I’ll bet Mrs. Richard Morris Hunt barely got a new mink coat outta Mr. Hunt’s signing up George Vanderbilt as a client.)
Oops—never talk about money—a Rule.
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Posted by Marilyn Bethany on 08/20/08 at 03:39 PM • Permalink
Restoration: Out with the Old Pool in with the New
Guest blogger, interior designer Carey Maloney, of M (Group), continues the saga of restoring, with his partner, architect Hermes Mallea, an 1870 Hudson River house.
Our clients need a new pool. “Need? A pool?,” you ask. Yes. There are two tween children who love the water. A pool makes your house the magnet for your kids’ friends - - and therefore you can WATCH them. Parent types seem to appreciate this. So yes, need…
The House came with a circa 1960 pool (above). Sort of Beverly Hills “Louis Kablooey” style. I guess, they were inspired by the Second Empire roofline. Or the Clampett’s. It was placed directly in front of the house (the ‘front’ of a river house is usually the river façade)—a terrible design gaff. Rule # One: Never put man-made water in front of natural water—the twain do not meet. (Yeah yeah – I know you’ve seen photos of fantastic endless pools in Morocco and Acapulco—but, in general, it’s dicey and difficult to pull off).
Re: Rules; I have a few. Well, I probably have MANY, being my mother’s son. Some are based on years of experience; others, admittedly, are based on whim or prejudice. The good news, I know rules are meant to be broken. They’ll come up from time to time.
So, sucky location, retro design, and it is Bright Blue (white plaster = bright blue pool; grey plaster = nicer blue water). (Sorry it is covered in the photo, just imagine it bright blue—you can do it!). Color Guru Donald Kaufman has created a formula for us that basically looks like the grey of Wet Cement—FYI, that little tidbit is worth a couple of thousand bucks. My Gift #1 to you.
Happily, the old pool is about to self destruct anyway. Tiles falling off the sides, leaking. It has been dying a slow death for the past few years and now its time has come. Fun fact—and obvious once you hear it: To demo a pool, simply knock holes in bottom and fill ‘er up with landfill. Gone. Who knew?
So, a new pool it is. But for now, the old pool must remain until the new pool is ready for action. Since I HATE the existing blot on the landscape, I want the new one in and running ASAP.
First, we relocated it out of sight of the house, behind the existing Pool House, with great views of the River. Private and sunny and flat. A wonderful location. The pool house is sort of a hike from the old pool, so this time around, it will abut the pool for easy access. Although no thing of great beauty (those tiny Mansard roofs!) the 60’s pool house is a keeper. There’s a large central playroom flanked by 3 baths, 2 changing rooms, mechanical rooms, and a hot tub with large windows overlooking the river – LOTS of very useful space. Think Teens Rec Room – or think Adult Escape Hatch..
Originally red brick (catch a glimpse in top photo), last summer we painted it and it’s twin, a garage, a Donald Kaufman custom Army Green (below) —and as expected, the buildings receded into the earth. Extensive wrap-around pergolas covered in vines will one day complete the “cryptic coloration” (read: camouflage) job.
Back to the pool. Once sited, we sized it—a pretty standard 40 x 22 rectangle— and, finally, threw the ball to Kelly Varnell Virgona to get the thing in the works.
They staked it out and marked the trees slated for removal. We all hate to demo trees, but happily these aren’t particularly healthy or nice. There is only one that gives us pause—a huge tulip tree that KVV warns will leave its sap on stone, wood, concrete. Worse, it is a natural lightening rod. (Who knew? Full of water. Jeez.) But it is really tall and would be the one big tree in the pool area. So we’ll wait on that decision…
Meetings were set up with three contractors. Three in one day, bang bang bang. Each was given the same punch list of items to include (in the futile hope they will all give us prices that reflect the same scope…). Gift # 2 – a Pool Check List follows:
Swimming Pool Base Price
Spa Base Price
Coping:
a. Material
b. Width
c. Edge Finish
Structure
Pool Depth Max.
Filter
Waterline Tile
Pump
Lights - Qty. / Type
Steps at Shallow End Qty.
Swim Out / Bench Qty.
Plumbing
Drain
Auto Cleaning System Type
Permits / Req. Drawings
Pool Finish
Pool Color
Safety Ropes
Auto Overflow
Skimmers
Returns
Chlorinator
Brush, Etc.
Heater Pool
Heater Spa
Temp. Const. Fence
Soil / Fill Removal
Excavation
Start Up Chemicals
Natural Gas Hookup
Propane Tank Hookup
Electric Hookup
Spa Jets Qty.
Winter Cover - Type
Extras / Options:
Jandy Auto Computer at Spa
Jandy Auto Computer at House
Raised Bond Beam
Raised Bond Beam Veneer
Blasting Rock - Machine Type & Qty., Daily Rate
Cold Water Feed from House for Auto Feed System
Auto Fil. System
Auto Cover - Aluminum
Auto Cover - Vanishing Edge
Each contractor/firm had a couple of pluses and a couple of minuses. One has superior experience, another a good aesthetic. Two are available in a month, another has killer calves…decisions, decisions. The final choice is between KVV and the clients (somehow I doubt the calves will come into play in their choice).
So now we await the bids and the contractor selection – and then the digging starts.
I suggest that anyone planning a pool buy the newest Sunset book on Pools and Spas. HM and I love the entire Sunset series, hundreds of DIY books over the years: Very practical, very approachable, useful information. Sure, the Kelly Klein type pool books are beautiful and inspiring (or depressing, since $ ain’t an object in Kelly’s world), but for nuts and bolts, or, dare I say it?, above ground (no kidding; we’re considering one for ourselves), think Sunset.
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Posted by Marilyn Bethany on 08/05/08 at 09:14 AM • Permalink
An Historic Riverfront Property Restored
The house today; porches gone, but soon to be restored.
In 1674, Robert Livingston, a clergyman’s son with a knack for business, politics and marrying well, emigrated to the colonies, and within just a few years had founded what would turn out to be America’s premier dynasty, a position the Livingston family would hold for nearly 100 years. Unlike the other colonies, New York in the 17th century held to the Old World feudal system of royal patents—vast tracts granted by the local minions of a far-off king (variously Dutch or English) to a lord of the manor, who then left the heavy lifting to his tenants from whom he exacted rent. Within a generation of Livingston’s arrival, his family had accumulated a fiefdom of nearly one million acres, including the entire Catskill range and virtually everything east of it to the Connecticut and Massachusetts borders.
A million acres is a lot to manage. Subsequent generations of Livingstons supported themselves, in part, by selling off land piece by piece. Still, in the 19th century, Columbia County was rife with Livingstons, four of whom built riverfront houses on contiguous properties in Germantown. Tall, square, with mansard roofs and plenty of porches, the better to take in the spectacular Hudson River and Catskill mountain views, the houses were faint echoes of Clermont, the 18th-century Livingston family seat up the road, which today is an historic site. But, while the resemblance to Clermont is glancing, the resemblance to each other is pronounced, but for one thing: Each is built, three-little-pigs-style, of a different material.
The one that concerns us, happily, is made of brick, and it is presently being restored for a family from New York City. The process will be chronicled on this website by the restoration team, architect Hermes Mallea and interior designer Carey Maloney, principals in the firm M (Group).
The view from the house; all this and much more was once owned by the Livingstons.
The Process and Progress (Including the Inevitable Fits and Starts) of Our Work on Our Next Door Neighbors’ House
I am Carey Maloney, a decorator, and Hermes Mallea, my partner, is an architect. Our firm is called M(Group) and we’ve been doing this for 26 years—inside and out, suburban- ground-up or urban renovations, from California to New York, Acapulco to Paris.
Over the past five years our “country work” has moved north from the obvious centers of cash, Bedford/Greenwich/Rye (a suburban Axis of Evil?) to Dutchess County and even across the river (Rive Gauche) towards New Paltz (go figure) . The uber-rich, it seems, are finding what we worker bees had already found—weekend bliss in the Hudson Valley.
HM and I have a house in southern Columbia County— a 1960’s gangster party house (truly—the builder did a ‘jolt’ in Sing Sing, and he wasn’t just visiting). We love it. It’s not everyone’s taste, but it works for us.
The House this blog is about is not a 1960’s ranch (audible sigh of relief?). It is our next door neighbors’ house (we share the driveway—happily for us, a long grand driveway). It was a lucky day for us ten years ago when we got these neighbor. We became good friends, and a few years ago they became great clients. It happens.
“The House” is an 1870’s Italianate manse with a Second Empire roofline—a very generous and very restrained house. As you can see from the photo, this house has perfect posture. Even the narrow brick with tiny mortar lines is strict. The way it sits on the ground is uncompromising. And it’s tall, no? Like a town house.
Tall, no? Like a town house. But it will seem less vertical once the porches are restored.
The house is on a large piece of property (OK – “estate” is Non U but this is definitely an estate) overlooking the Hudson River. 180 degree views of the river and the Catskills beyond, across rolling fields, set up high on a rise. Trust me, it is a treasure. A very cool house.
I’ll be writing about the project and documenting via snapshots the process and the progress. We’ll be attacking the exterior first—seasonal work to be completed before winter. Then the interior work will kick in. Both indoor and outdoor work will continue on into Spring 2009.
The plans include adding beautiful HM-designed wrap-around porches and three porticos– faithful (but not slavishly so) to the long lost originals. Some major landscaping, to be designed and built by Kelly Varnell Virgona, including a new swimming pool (I cannot wait to demo the old eyesore). Inside, a big new kitchen and breakfast room will open onto a new dining porch.
This drawing of another 1870 Italianate house provides inspiration and information re: the missing details.
Over the past few years we’ve done the Library, Living Room, Dining Room, Front Hall, and most of the 2nd floor. When we have little gaps in our blog dance card—i.e. when work grinds to a halt due to an early snow storm—we’ll look at the rooms already completed. (When the dining room was installed—and it is very successful, we think—I imagined the Livingston ghosts clutching each other and gleefully wailing “OMG, we’re rich again!”)
So – that’s the plan. Wish us luck.
HM and I learn plenty from each project and we hope that maybe this superficial documentation (‘in depth’ being beyond my capabilities—and maybe beyond your attention span?) of the process will instruct or inspire readers. Inspire them to buy a turnkey condo in Boca…
I’ll try to include book suggestions as we go. To start, check out “American Homes : An Illustrated Encyclopedia of Domestic Architecture” by Lester Walker (Black Dog & Leventhal Publishers, 2002). It is an excellent guide to styles and their evolution with charming renderings of historic houses—all pre CAD. ——Carey Maloney
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Posted by Marilyn Bethany on 07/24/08 at 06:17 AM • Permalink
Wake Up and Smell the Bargains!
“Back in the early 90s, there were properties that went as bargains,“ says Pat Best principal broker at Best & Cavallaro in Salisbury, CT, “and a lot of people, including myself, missed some buying opportunities. This feels a lot like that.” Chuck Bartolo of Beach and Bartolo in Columbia County echoes the sentiment: “This may be the best opportunity I’ve ever seen. The investment value of everything else is in question. What could be safer than good solid earth and clean air, two hours from mid-town Manhattan? If I had more liquid assets….” His voice trails off wistfully. Timothy Lovett of Berkshire Property Agents in Great Barrington says, “It’s a good time to buy because prices have adjusted, sellers are much more willing to negotiate, interest rates are very low, and banks are eager to work with good, qualified buyers.“
With prices down, inventory up and interest rates low, even real estate brokers, with their (usually) decades-long perspective on the market, are wishing they could buy. Caveat: (and this is spoken like a mantra), “But you have to be prepared to hang onto the property for at least five years.“ So we posed a question: If you were in a position to go bargain hunting yourself right now, which properties would you buy? Understandably, some preferred to keep that information to themselves (and their customers). But for those who saw the challenge as interesting, we set some ground rules: pick any three from your Multiple Listing Service, but, in the interests of fairness, only one can be your own listing. [For those unfamiliar with how the Multiple Listing Services works, any broker or agent within a county can show any property listed on that county’s MLS, regardless of who the listing broker is.]
246 Silvernail Road, Chatham; 19th-century house; 3 bedrooms, 2 baths; $399,999
Chuck Bartolo: “This property (exterior, top) is extremely private and has nice views. It’s been completely updated and beautifully landscaped. There are two barns and a built-in fieldstone barbeque. Two years ago, it would have been in the $500,000 range.” Listing broker: The Kinderhook Group
1 Walden Road, Canaan; 5,000 square feet; 4 bedrooms, 4 baths; $895,000
Chuck Bartolo: It’s new construction on nine acres with fabulous Berkshire views. A house of this quality costs $250-a-square-foot to build. If you were to try to duplicate it—5,000 square feet, high quality appliances and finishing touches—it would cost $1,000,000 just for the house, and you haven’t bought the land, or put in the road, the well, the septic, or built a garage. The numbers work.” Listing broker: Beach and Bartolo
49 Glenwood Boulevard, Hudson; creatively restored 1850-square-foot 3 bedroom, 2 bath; $189,000.
Chuck Bartolo:“This nice little property is in move-in condition—completely redone and restored. Inside, the rooms are bright, and there’s a brand new kitchen with granite countertops. The yard backs up to a woods.” Listing broker: Coldwell Banker Bartolotta
264 Main St., Great Barrington; 2610 sq. ft loft condo over Rubiner’s Cheese Mongers; 1 bedroom, 1 bath; $935,000
Tim Lovett: “It’s the best of both world’s—Tribeca in the Berkshires in the most beautiful and coveted building in Great Barrington. Margaret Brownell [the owner/renovator] did a spectacular job with this building from the ground up. Although you are in the middle of everything, it’s an incredibly private, airy, beautiful space. A lot of us move up here to live in the country but we continue to do business. This loft is either a beautiful place to live, or live/work, or just work.“ Listing broker: Berkshire Property Agents
111 Chestnut Hill Road, Monterey; Secluded, 3 bedrooms, 1 1/2 baths on 72 acres; $599.000
Tim Lovett: “You’re in your own private world here—at the end of a dirt road, in its own magical hidden hollow, there’s this very private, very cool rugged rustic house. It’s not terribly old but it feels like an old New England farmstead that needs a little freshening up. It sits on huge acreage in an expensive town.“ Listing broker: Gabel Real Estate
43 Pine Crest Hill, South Egremont; Rustic 2 bedrooms, 1 bath on less than 1/2 acre; $297,500
Tim Lovett: “This log cabin, with a big stone fireplace, is in an amazing place—the Adirondacks in the Berkshires. It’s a unique neighborhood—an old cabin resort on a private, gravel road right behind the shops and restaurants in downtown South Egremont; very cool. This cabin is in original condition, so there’s no damage to be undone.“ Listing broker: Isgood Realty
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Posted by Marilyn Bethany on 04/15/08 at 02:09 PM • Permalink
10 Tips for Selling in a Buyer’s Market
● Don’t try to wait it out. “I don’t see a major turnaround for at least 18 months,“ says Nancy Kalodner, owner and principal broker at Benchmark Real Estate in Otis, MA. “It’s not like day trading. You don’t sell a house because it’s gone up 30%. You sell because your needs have changed. If that happens in a seller’s market, great. But if the market isn’t so good, that doesn’t change the scenario; you still need to sell.“
● Price it right. “A prospective seller asked me what I thought his property was worth and I said, $450, thinking we’d end up at $440 or so,” says Jean Price, owner and principal broker at Arthur Lee of Red Rock in Columbia Co.. “He then listed it with another broker for $549. That was a year and a half ago. Now they’re asking $399,000. Not only is his property worth less today than it was when he first listed it, he’s had the expense of carrying it all this time—mortgage, taxes, plowing, heat.”
● Beware the broker who, when asked, “What’s it worth?” replies, “What are you hoping to get?” Your hopes and dreams have no bearing on market value. If you interview a number of brokers, and one gives you a figure well above the rest, think twice. Telling you what you want to hear may wrest your listing away from the competition, but it won’t sell your house. “Now we take a little more time to get to the right number,“ says Steve Pener of Dooley Real Estate in Kent, CT. “Buyers now do their shopping on-line. They don’t call us asking, ‘We’re looking for three bedrooms, ten acres; what do you have?‘ They call us once they’ve found what they want. If the price is off, we can’t even get them to look.“
● But what about a trial balloon? Starting with a higher-than-probable price can’t hurt, can it? In fact, it can. As Julia Crowley of Paula Redmond Real Estate in Dutchess County, describes the situation, “He’ll say, ‘I don’t care what everything else is going for, I am going to get big money for this. Someone from the city is going to fall in love with it and be willing to pay just about anything.’ ” This seller is deluding himself. Brokers and agents only show overpriced properties to emphasize the value in properly priced ones. Meanwhile, buyers in his real price range are off looking at less expensive stuff.
● Don’t grab defeat from the waiting arms of victory. A Hillsdale, NY property that went on the market over a year ago found a buyer last May. Once a price had been agreed upon, however, the ambivalent seller threw in a proviso that closing could not take place until fall. The buyer balked. The seller refused to budge, so the buyer walked. Nine months later, the house remains unsold.
● Pre-inspect. Even though the game is presently weighted in their favor, buyers in a falling market are especially skittish. To shield them from nasty surprises, have an expert look for red-flag situations that can be attended to prior to listing. “If the radon needs to be remediated, do it before a buyer’s engineer discovers it,” advises John Harney, owner and principal broker of John Harney Associates in Litchfield County. “As C.S. Lewis wrote, ‘Make the way soft underfoot and gently sloping.’ ” [Note: Lewis was describing the path to hell; Harney, to closing—opposite directions, to be sure.]
● Don’t expect buyers (or appraisers) to be visionaries—to see past your property’s actual condition to what it could be with “a little work.” Count on being rewarded only for that portion of its potential that has been realized. That said, a little “staging” never hurt. Sally Spillane, a Salisbury, CT stager, moving facilitator, (and, incidentally, in this context, host of WKZE’s Sunday morning gardening show) says, “You’ve got to open things up and make room for other people’s dreams. Don’t wait until you move to have that yard sale; have it now.” Eyesore #1, according to Spillane: plastic toys. “Get a big box,” she says, “and throw the toys in there whenever the house is being shown.”
● Don’t waste your dough. Buyers who do have vision are likely to bristle at being asked to pay for brand new work they deem unworthy. If you are not widely regarded as having an exceptional eye, perhaps you should get the advice of someone who does before you, say, put in a new kitchen in the hope that it will hasten a sale. Nearly everyone thinks his own taste is at least adequate; real estate professionals know otherwise, but dare not say so [speculators, are you listening?]. If you want to sell your house at a good price, don’t bank on your taste unless the evidence in your favor is strong. And even if you do have the knack, according to Spillane, you could be wasting your money: “Maybe your buyer doesn’t want a marble bath.”
● Can a seller’s taste be too good? Apparently so. “We had a Queen Anne Victorian with quarter-sawn oak paneling and stained glass windows,” says Mary Mullane, an agent with Gary diMauro‘s Hudson office. “The owners had Eastlake furniture and great artwork—tons of it—that was perfect for the house.” Perhaps, too perfect. “Everyone who saw the place said the same thing: ‘It’s fabulous, but we don’t have stuff like this.’” Though furnished houses generally sell more readily, the agency encouraged the owners to empty the place. It sold right away.
● Did we mention, don’t be greedy? It bears repeating. During the boom, when a substantial annual appreciation on property was virtually guaranteed, it didn’t matter what the buyer paid; value was certain to catch up and ultimately surpass any crazy price. Not any more. But one thing hasn’t changed: people still want to buy houses. “We recently listed a property,“ says Dooley’s Steve Pener. “The owner trusted us and worked with us on price, and the place sold in a week.“
Next: 10 Tips for Buying Well Now
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Posted by Marilyn Bethany on 02/05/08 at 11:02 AM • Permalink
