I'll pass on the man cave

I had a color scheme rejected this week for being "too feminine." I was confused by this because the pooh poohed colors were shades of gray and yellow but I suppose I was pushing someone out of his comfort zone somehow. Ordinarily, having an idea or a plan shot down is no big deal. I mean, it comes with the territory, but what bothered me about this particular rejection was the reason. Even though he really liked it, he couldn't bring himself to commit to it because somewhere in his mind he made up a story that it was too feminine. Too feminine? What the hell does that mean anyhow? The only way that color plan was going to end up looking feminine was if someone painted a vagina on the wall.

That wasn't what my design was calling for by the way.

Anyhow, it led me back to a pet peeve of mine --this idea that there are things that are inherently masculine and other things that are inherently feminine. Colors can't have a gender and sofas aren't segregated by sex. It's just stuff. Judgments about the relative masculinity and femininity of stuff says more about the person who's describing them thus than it does the object in question.

This is feminine:

This is masculine:

Short of physical depictions of gender, anything else is cultural. It's also arbitrary and no more an inherent condition than any other cultural norm you can think of. These norms change all the time and even when they're in place they aren't at all consistent. Here's an example. Conventional wisdom holds and accepts the idea is that depictions of flowers are inherently feminine. I say even that's a load of Bull.

This is an anthurium. Is it feminine?

Here's a Hydranora africana. What would you call it?

My intention here is not to get into some debate about real gender differences and conflicts, what I'm talking about are the made up ones. Generalizations that relegate men to man caves (ugh) and women to kitchens. Moronic ideas that hold women to a standard that says they should be able to create a gracious and tasteful home single handedly. Equally moronic ideas that hold men responsible for car maintenance and outdoor grills.

It's all a load. Those cultural norms may define some people's actual preferences and skills, but I bet they don't describe most peoples'. Lord knows they don't describe mine and I'm somebody who's generally comfortable with most things expected of my gender. I know too that those norms don't define my squirrely client either. Enough stupid HGTV programming about so-called man caves have him convinced that grey and yellow is feminine and that's a shame.

I keep going back to what I always go back to. Your house should look like you live in it. Not anyone else.

Caesarstone has a new direction in Motivo

Caesarstone is my favorite quartz composite, bar none. They have the most interesting palette and the most adventurous selection of surface finishes. Unlike the rest of the quartz composite brands out there, Caesarstone speaks the language of design and architecture. They practically challenge us to find unique uses for their surfaces and their website and product galleries are a great source of inspiration. Caesarstone practically begs to be turned into furniture or wall sheathing or shower stalls or even floors. It's amazingly useful and versatile stuff.

A year or so ago, I started to see patterned surfaces made from Caesarstone and I wrote a post about it last October. My first exchange with Ann Porter from KitchAnnStyle came about as a result of these patterned surfaces. Back then, people were sandblasting Caesarstone to get the textures I was seeing and I was smitten completely.

Well, Caesarstone was paying attention because at KBIS last year, they previewed a new collection called Motivo, and Motivo has two available embossed finishes.

Unlike the sandblasing that had been done to completed slabs, these embossed patterns are produced by Caesarstone and are guaranteed for life. Kudos to Caesarstone for listening and wow are these new patterns beautiful or what?

For now there are two patterns in the Motivo collection. Knowing Caesarstone though, this is just the start of something. But in the meantime, imagine a shower in crocodile. Cool!

Robert Rummer Event at Portland’s Rejuvenation

First, thanks to Paul for inviting me to share this event with you on his blog... truly a privilege!

As a new resident of Portland, OR, I am thrilled to now be fully immersed in Pacific Northwest design. One of the truly celebrated local legends is Mr. Robert Rummer, who is (in his words) a “frustrated architect” and home builder (he was not accepted into a college architecture program, so he majored in art!). Although he did build multiple styles of houses through several decades, his reputation is primarily based on his mid-century modern houses from the '60s. His aesthetic is often compared to Eichler homes in California, which he adapted and "surpassed" (his words, not mine) for the rainy climate and forested scenery of the PNW.

A Renovated Rummer (photography by John Valls)

Recently, the well-known Rejuvenation store hosted a sell-out benefit event featuring Robert Rummer as their guest. The format played out as a casual conversation between the esteemed Mr. Rummer and Becca Cavell, Program Director for the annual Street of Eames (tour of mid century modern and contemporary home in Portland). The stage, in Rejuvenation’s museum-like gallery on their second floor, was complete with mcm furniture and décor:



Prior to the event, we were invited to tour Rejuvenation’s current display of period lighting, as well as peruse their historical collection of lighting and hardware catalogs:



A classic “Rummer house” was built to embrace, dare I say celebrate, outdoor living. (Despite the prolific rain, residents of the Pacific Northwest LOVE the outdoors.) “Rummers” are of post and beam construction, and oriented toward the green space of the backyard with floor-to-ceiling glass walls. Given that the houses were built at a time in history when Americans celebrated ownership of their car(s), Rummers also prominently feature the garage entry to the house. They also include atriums at the center of the house. When asked if his designs copied those of Eichler, most notably with the atrium, Mr. Rummer responded that really, nothing is truly original. The Romans had atriums in their houses as well, "so really, what's new?" Other classic features of a Rummer house include heated floors throughout, and sunken tubs in the bathrooms.

The lovely slideshow was loaded with visual candy such as the "red door garage" photo above, as well as plenty of line art sketches and floor plans of Rummers:



Rejuvenation has recently posted a video of highlights from the talk. Some additional items revealed by the entertaining Mr. Rummer, which are not captured in this video:

• He built approximately 1200-1300 “Rummers” in Oregon
• The worst request he ever received from a client? “She wanted CARPET in the KITCHEN! Food everywhere!”
• The flat roofs of Rummers are actually ever-so-slightly angled to assist with drainage
• Coveted Rummers on the real estate market are few and far between, and sell for a premium in the Portland market – clearly above the prices of houses that are comparable in size and location
• "Rummer" has entered the local lexicon as a verb: people also talk about houses that were “rummered,” i.e. other builders that copied liberally from the hallmark characteristics of a Rummer house
• Through one of his neighborhood projects, Rummer donated some park space to the City of Beaverton. They promptly named the area “Eichler Park,” to his rueful dismay!
• His favorite architect is Frank Lloyd Wright, in part because of his impeccable attention to detail

Thanks to Rejuvenation for hosting a fabulous and unique event! If you would like to see more of the Rummer talk, here is their entertaining highlight video:

Paging Mr. Calder, Mr. Alexander Calder

photo by Matt Bisanz

I.M. Pei's East Wing of the National Gallery of Art opened in 1978 after a four year construction. I happened upon it for the first time in 1979, when I was in eighth grade. Actually, it was a planned excursion. I was in DC on a school trip and I ducked away from the group to explore the museums along the Mall at my own pace. My how times have changed. Can you imagine an eighth grader pulling a stunt like that now?

Anyhow, I'd read an article in National Geographic about the new building and I was beyond intrigued by the wonders it promised. I'd never been in an art museum before (I grew up in the sticks) and I had no idea what to expect other than that the East Wing was a really cool building. I walked into the building and across a bridge that spanned the atrium. Floating over my head was the most impressive thing I'd ever seen.

I had no idea then, but I know now that what I was looking at was Alexander Calder's Untitled from 1976. Calder's mobile in the National Gallery lit a fire inside of me that's never gone out. Untitled is 76 feet long and weighs 920 pounds. It's the visual anchor of the building's huge atrium and its perpetual motion is fueled by the convection currents in the atrium and the eddies caused by the people who walk below it. It's a machine that harnesses the very energy of the space where it's suspended. Untitled spins and rotates with an effortless grace that makes it appear utterly weightless. It's a flock of birds, it's a school of fish, it's the flighty and confused adventures of a 14-year-old boy named Paul.

Alexander Calder invented the mobile and the whole idea of what's now called kinetic sculpture. In the 1930s he was working with anchored kinetic pieces he called stabiles and when he started suspending them, the mobile was born. Calder's Untitled in the East Wing was his crowning achievement and his final public work.

I've never forgotten my early moment of clarity and inspiration on the bridge and to this day I cannot see a kinetic sculpture and not be captivated.

So it was a great and welcome surprise to be followed by someone named @lkgeiser yesterday. In following her links back to her website, I learned that @lkgeiser is one half of the husband and wife team behind San Francisco-based Wallter.

Linda and Max are artists and Wallter grew out of their inability to find bedding they liked. They filled an unmet need in their graphic bedpreads, pillows, throw blankets and textiles. Look over their textile selections here. It's beautiful stuff. Wallter also designs and manufactures 3-D, paintable wall decor; coat racks and (be still my heart) mobiles. Thank you for the follow Linda, I had no idea you guys existed but I'm sure glad I know about you now. According to their website, Wallter seeks out voids in the home accessory market. As I sit here staring at the void in the corner of my living room I'm even more happy I found these folks.

There are five steel mobiles in Wallter's collection and each of those five is available in an impressive array of colors. Of the five the one that really calls to me is their Palm mobile.

image by Wallter

The adjustablility that Wallter's built into these beauties ensures that no two will end up looking alike once they're in place. It's mass customization to a dizzying degree.

image by Wallter

Here's a video that shows how to install a Palm.





Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Thanks Wallter, I'm glad you're out there. And gang, go poke around their website. Christmas is coming you know.

image by Wallter

Designer's confessional: I don't like Anthropologie

I spend time shopping with clients from time to time, it's one of the services I provide. Buying decent furniture can be daunting for someone who knows what he's doing, but to someone who's never done it before it can be overwhelming. I can usually tell ahead of time what will and won't work in a given space, and I tend to know exactly where to go to find what's needed. I don't like indecision and I'll never walk into a furniture showroom with a client cold. With me, it never a matter of "Hey, let's go shopping for a sofa!"

On the contrary, I'll say something like "I know the exact sofa this room needs. Let's go look at it at Doma." When we arrive at my friend David's store (the aforementioned Doma) he's ready for us because I call him ahead of time. "Hey David," I tell him, "a client and I are coming over to look at Younger Sofas, particularly the 40530 and 40535." I don't like to waste time. I'm not a tyrant though. If my client doesn't like my preselections, I can usually tell from his or her reaction which way to go from there.

One of the rules of having me work with you on furniture is that I get to pick where we shop and what we look at. Every once in while though someone tries to pull a fast one and tries to lead the process. I say all the time that the jobs I work on aren't mine. The rooms and homes I'm working on belong to my clients, my ego doesn't figure into the process at all. Well that is a damn lie. My name and my reputation are written all over these projects and I personalize a lot of this, much more so than I probably should.

Anyhow, the client in question wanted to use an upholstered chair from that glorified flea market Anthropologie in one of my living rooms. I was mortified. Mortified. It was a chair like this one:

Appalling, it's just appalling. It stuck out like a sore thumb and coordinated with no other color or stick of furniture anywhere in her house. I talked her out of it and we went to see David and found something tailored and orderly.

 Anthropologie looks like a thrift store. But unlike a real thrift store, it has the Skinner Box feel of a corporate experiment in how to get people to spend too much money on stuff that just looks bad. Their selections seem to be geared to people too young to remember how horrible the '70s were, but their price points are beyond the means of any 20-something I've ever met. The only people who can plunk down $4000 for an ugly Anthropologie sofa are the same people who should be old enough to know better.

Yet without fail and seemingly without thinking, the design press swoons over everything in their stores. I just don't get it.

In what universe is this an attractive or tasteful light fixture? What fool would actually pay five thousand dollars for it? Why doesn't any one seem to question this stuff?

Call me old-fashioned, but if I'm going to cough up $1700 for a media cabinet,

or $1500 for an armchair,

or $3500 for a sofa, can they look new at least?