Month: February 2009

It’s what any artist or writer would kill for: a separate space in which to work, but one that requires no commute at all. A space that’s convenient, but allows no distraction. “I wanted it to be comfortable but not too comfortable,” says Sharon Shapiro about her painting studio. In other words, the perfect balance.

A 30’ sightline inside Sharon Shapiro’s studio allows her to size up works in progress. Unlike many painters, she wanted a relatively small amount of natural light.

That’s what Shapiro and several other locals have managed to create. Each has a work space that occupies its own small building, designed for the purpose and steps from their respective back doors. We took a tour of these modest, but beautiful, temples to concentration. Artists and writers (and musicians and crafters): Prepare to drool.

Car spot

Shapiro, a painter who’s shown locally at Second Street Gallery as well as nationally, had spent years renting studio space when she finally talked with the partners at Formwork about converting her garage to a work space. “It was an old 1950s garage with an electric door,” she remembers. Because it was narrow, “I wouldn’t have put my car in it.” But Formwork’s Cecilia Hernandez Nichols thought it had potential: “We really liked the shape of the garage,” she remembers. “Taking it out altogether never seemed an option.”

Outside, Shapiro’s studio shows its status as a former garage, while an addition, designed by Formwork and built by Rick Hazard, is distinct and modern.

Instead, Nichols and her partner Robert Nichols decided to add on to the back of the garage, creating an L-shaped building with two distinct sections that form a small courtyard. She explains, “The idea was to make the little garage as white as possible, and a much darker volume in back”: While the garage could almost go unnoticed in a typical Charlottesville backyard, the addition is modern, clad in copper and moss-green HardiPanel.

Inside, the studio—which was finished in 2001—reflects Shapiro’s well-earned sense of her own working habits. “I needed some natural light, but not a lot,” she says. “I needed big doors to get paintings in and out of.” Shapiro also knew she needed to look at works in progress from a good distance: “She paced it and we measured it,” says Nichols. “It wasn’t 24′, it wasn’t 26′, it had to be as much as 30′.”

Thus the design includes carefully placed windows on the north and east walls, two sets of large double doors, and a work area at one end of a long gallery. At the opposite end are shelves and flat files for storage, and in the addition are a bathroom and a salvaged sink for washing out brushes, flecked with a rainbow of paint colors.

The space includes practicalities, like a computer desk and a coffeepot, that minimize the trips Shapiro needs to make into her house. But more than that, the studio is organized to promote the work, roomy and inviting. Finished paintings, unfinished paintings, and the magazines Shapiro uses for source material are everywhere, but don’t create clutter. Most walls and the ceiling are a gallery-worthy white, but one pale blue wall sets off the desk area. Exposed joists and ductwork, along with a simple plywood floor, keep the atmosphere down to earth.

In the nearly eight years she’s used the studio, Shapiro says, “I think [I’ve been] a lot more productive than I used to be. If I work on something late at night I can come out first thing in the morning with my coffee and look at it, and I don’t have to go downtown and park.” As a mother, she thinks her studio is likewise a better solution than a room inside the house, where distraction would come more easily—though her 13-year-old daughter and the family dog do find the studio couch a comfy spot to hang out now and then.

Shed for thought

Not far away, behind the home of Holly Shulman—a professor in UVA’s Studies in Women and Gender program and a noted Dolley Madison scholar—a onetime storage shed has been just as thoroughly transformed. A decade ago, Shulman and her husband John C.A. Stagg had been living in their appealing Cape Cod for five years. For that entire period, she had thought about making the shed into a study. “It had occurred to me as soon as we bought the place,” she says.

Holly Shulman’s study is diminutive on approach, but once inside, a view opens to the backyard through numerous windows.

She approached Jeff Bushman, at Bushman Dreyfus Architects, about the project, asking for “bookcases, lots of light, and a good workspace.” The result is more than functional, though; it has a contemplative feel. From the wraparound desk, one’s gaze is drawn through windows toward the back yard, rather than toward the house or the street. A high, white vaulted ceiling makes the space feel generous despite a small footprint. And storage for books is made part of the atmosphere through five banks of bookshelves along one wall.

“Jeff managed to put a lot into this space without making it look cluttered,” Shulman says. Though the building’s white exterior speaks easily to that of the 1938 house, which is just steps away, landscape design by Gregg Bleam contributes to a sense of remove. Bleam had screened Shulman’s house from a neighbor with two parallel rows of plantings along a gravel pathway: chokeberry and European hornbeam. He also designed fencing influenced by Japanese latticework. To walk along this pathway toward the study is to traverse a subtle, but definite, passage.

Shulman says this space was a priority that came even before remodeling an unsatisfactory kitchen, even though “I cook all the time …[The study is] a lovely space,” Shulman says. “It’s a fabulous area to work in: light, airy, sunny, warm.”

Days in light

“Sunny” was a priority too for another local painter who hired Fred Wolf, of Wolf Ackerman Design, to design his studio in 2004. In this case, though, the studio would be an entirely new structure. Though there was no existing building for a starting point, Wolf nonetheless looked around the neighboring backyards for some of his inspiration. “The outer skin was about the relationship to the house”—a brick four-square—“and what outbuildings in those properties might look like.” Corrugated metal and cement board make up that skin.

Inside, the goal was a space that was not too precious—a feeling of “messy vitality,” as Wolf describes it. The choice to build a home work space was “a decision about owning rather than renting,” his client (who did not want to be identified) explains, but it was also necessary not to downgrade size or functionality from the rented studio he’d used previously. Wolf thought he could improve on that space in that it was “like going through somebody’s garage or attic. Pieces in process could be struggling for attention.” This wasn’t ideal for an artist who works on many pieces simultaneously.

Fred Wolf demonstrates the permeability of this painting studio: a wall of sliding glass doors. Inside (below), Homasote walls allow the client to move among many paintings in progress, easily tacked up.

Instead, the new studio allows works in progress to be easily tacked up on any of the four walls, which are made of Homasote, a compressed-paper material. A painted OSB floor and plywood ceiling are no-nonsense, and ample storage space keeps the work area clear. Wolf allowed sun to flood in through windows and doors in the south wall, plus some openings to the north—though his client has moderated the light somewhat with blinds, preserving the warmth of a sunbeam landing on the floor but “keeping it low, not on me.”  
 
In this case, since the studio was a new structure, Wolf had the opportunity to consider how its siting would impact the rest of the property. “On one level there was this relation to the driveway that was important,” he says, for ease in loading paintings from studio to vehicles. But, too, the idea of a retreat—connected to but distinct from the house—was integral to the work space’s function.

Wolf’s solution was to “have this piece float in the landscape that is their backyard,” elevated on piers rather than a foundation, and reached on foot via a short metal bridge. “Even at the small scale, there’s a ritual or a step that, psychologically, [is] about thinking ‘I’m leaving everything else behind,’” says Wolf. “It’s a way to disengage from the everyday and get into a place physically and mentally where you can do your work.”

 

The fruits and the bees

February and March look like great months for those of you who like raising food in all its forms. First of all, there’s a beekeeping course through the Central Virginia Beekeepers Association, February 5, 12, 19 and 26, from 7-9pm. You pay $25 for lots of apicultural wisdom, plus a chance to win your own bee colony! Call 296-5844.

Then there are three days of fruit-tree-growing info from Vintage Virginia Apples: February 14, 21 and 28. You’ll learn planning, planting, pruning and grafting. Sign up separately for each day ($25 or $85) at vintagevirginiaapples.com.

And mark your calendars for a March 14 mushroom-growing workshop at Sharondale Farm, including what’s called “a bag of spawn” to start your own ’shroom garden. It’s $55; call 296-3301. Then, start planning a homegrown, home-cooked meal: mushroom omelets, accompanied by sliced apples and biscuits topped with honey from your hive.—Erika Howsare

Hunt, gather and heat

The woods are lovely, dark and deep—and full of fuel for your stove.

For all you misers donning parkas and double-layering socks to avoid cranking up the thermostat: How about heating that igloo for 20 bucks a year? If you’ve got a wood-burning heater, flatbed truck, and a set of sturdy shoulders, George Washington and Jefferson National Forests sell fuel-wood-gathering permits, good for six cords of wood—anywhere from 12 to 24 loads, depending on your truck’s carrying capacity. 

By selling hundreds of permits every year, the National Forests are able to get rid of dead and downed wood to help clear the way for new growth. It’s nice to know your fuel is coming from already-downed trees; plus, as all you woodstove-and-boiler types will agree, it’s one helluva bargain. Going for $20 a pop, the permits give would-be wood-gatherers access to most of the park, excluding those marked for recreation, timber sales, or designated Wilderness areas. Further guidelines are available on the GW National Forest website.—Lucy Zhou

 

 

Bundle me up, Spotty

Dogs aren’t polar bears, y’know! They’ll stay warmer with your worn-out blankets.

Come frosty February, everyone ought to have a little somethin’-somethin’ to snuggle up with—even if you’re already covered in fur. Animal shelters like the Charlottesville Albemarle SPCA ask for blanket donations during the blustery months to help combat cold paws and winter woes.

Past drives have been wildly successful, with over 630 donations. If you have blankets too worn for human use, consider sending them to your local shelter instead of the landfill. Gently and lovingly used, please, and the snugglier, the better—see caspca.org for the deets and a list of other donatables.—L.Z.

 

 

 

 

 

How does Betty recycle?

This month I want to share some personal home strategies for recycling. Without an efficient and easy system in place, you may be tempted to “just toss it.” A better answer is to responsibly reallocate all the stuff we humans accumulate daily and thus close the loop.
 
Reyclables
I confess it took me over a year to figure out a decent home recycling strategy when I moved to Albemarle (unless you call piling the recyclables like an artist’s depiction of the Eiffel tower a strategy). Now I have six sturdy, space-saving, stackable plastic bins. Fortunately, we have a garage; but you really only need the width of one bin, 24", and a high ceiling. If you are feeling extra Betty-like, you could take your bins to swim meets or any event where recycling isn’t currently offered. We’re human, which means we don’t walk the recyclables out to the bins every time, so we have a large canvas basket on the kitchen counter for a once-a-day trip.
 
Compost
We made our compost strategy contained and simple with the purchase of a large outdoor compost tumbler. In the kitchen, I hung a Simple Human container on my pantry door. We toss food waste into 3-gallon biodegradable bags, which can then be transported into the tumbler. An oversized glass cookie jar also works. Container strategies abound, but make sure it’s sealable and easily accessible.
 
Donate or fix it
I dedicate a closet or attic corner to items for donation. Three or four times a year, we do the recycling circuit—giving away clothing, old electronics, and toys. I’m still waiting for Charlottesville to open a cute small-appliance repair shop like my hometown had. Until then, a box in the garage is dedicated to items that need fixing, like shoe soles and belts.  Finally, if I don’t know where to take it, I go to betterworldbetty.org’s recycle search tool.—Betty World Betty

Check out Better World Betty’s local green living resource list at betterworldbetty.com and blog at cvillebettyblog.blogspot.com.

Bulb blues

Lately, we’ve been hearing some troubling buzz locally about CFLs, the light bulbs that everyone (including ABODE) has been saying are a greener choice. Word is, they may not actually be so great. One concern is the mercury the bulbs contain, which means they have to be disposed of quite carefully; you can drop off your used CFLs at the McIntire Recycling Center or the Ivy landfill, but do so gently so as not to break them. What’s more, the mercury may also be doing mischief in China, where many bulbs are manufactured; as we know, that country’s reputation for environmental safeguards and, well, regulation in general is itself a bit of a broken bulb.

Another troubling point: Many folks are unhappy with the bulbs’ performance, saying that CFLs do not last nearly as long as they’re supposed to—a big hole in the argument that they’re worth the substantially higher cost compared to incandescents. One tip we picked up on this point: CFLs that aren’t turned on and off frequently will probably perform best. So if you just want to try them out, the basement or a hallway might be a better choice than the bathroom shared by your three teenagers.—Erika Howsare

 

We did our level best, but the results were less than level. Next time around, we broke down and hired a drywaller.

We are more than a little proud of our D.I.Y. ethic, but on a couple of occasions, we’ve taken the big step of admitting that we’d be better off hiring someone for a specific task. One of these occasions came about only after we’d satisfied our curiosity by trying the task in question—drywalling—ourselves.

It’s not that drywalling is incredibly strenuous or filthy or dangerous—in each case, it’s only mildly so. But it takes practice to make drywall look like it was installed by a human being and not by a monkey. “Practice” for us meant laboring over a bathroom ceiling and walls that, despite our thorough efforts, look —well—amateurish. And the job had gobbled tons of time, with repeated applications of drywall mud, then sessions with sandpaper, then more mud…

In the middle of this process, we had a visit from a bank inspector who is also an expert drywaller. He gave us a little demo: With one motion of the knife, he accomplished what we couldn’t in days of work. That did it. Our next drywall project, in the kitchen, had us on the phone to a local handyman. He came over and looked at the job, then quoted us $75. Sold!

Not only was this person infinitely more skilled with the gypsum and mud than we, he was pleasantly talkative and said nice things about the other work we’d done on our house. In other words, the perfect subcontractor. Sipping coffee while someone else made things happen in our house was a strange feeling, and not entirely comfortable. But we’re glad we powered through it.—Spackled Egg

Got condensation? Mom was right: Use a coaster! Now that you’re a grownup, no longer will a folded-up newspaper suffice for functional décor. For a simple fix, put that paper (and a few other materials) to use and make a set of decoupage coasters that would make even Mom proud.

Materials: Four ceramic tiles, craft paint, newspaper, Mod Podge (available at craft stores), felt pads (available at hardware stores)

Tools: Paintbrush (or foam brush), scissors
 
1. Cut out two shapes from the newspaper (we chose a heart and a house). Using the Mod Podge,

glue each to its own tile.

2. Pick a couple of words that you like (we chose “love” and “kiss”) and cut each letter individually out of the newspaper.

3. On the other two tiles, paint the same shapes as the ones you cut out.

4. You can vary the combination of media here; we chose to outline the heart with paint,  and place a word with the house cut-out and inside the painted heart. This gives the project a cohesive look.

5. Put four felt pads on the corners underneath the tile.

6. Coat tiles three or four times with Mod Podge to seal. Enjoy!—Caite White

It took about 18 months for the dream house of Geri Schirmer to become a reality, but the project had its roots in a much longer period of, well, dreaming. “It was the culmination of 30 years of planning in my head,” Schirmer says. “I did the Parade of Homes constantly. I’d walk in and start rearranging walls.” Building this house on a ridge overlooking Ivy finally gave those ideas life.

The home takes full advantage of an enormous Blue Ridge view, and while it’s not overly grand, it’s certainly dramatic. That’s fitting for an occupant who’s also a seasoned Live Arts actor—she’ll play Flora Van Huysen this March in The Matchmaker.

Schirmer and her husband Bruce raised two daughters in a house in Charlottesville, and they are now grown. For Geri, the process of building was a joy (“no horror stories,” she marvels). When the house was done, she threw a “wrap party” for all the pros involved, from architect to roofers to kitchen designer.
 
The great room, with its vaulted ceiling and abundant glass facing the mountains, is the center and heart of this French-influenced house. A painting of Normandy, made by the father of Schirmer’s soon-to-be son-in-law, graces one wall, and objects from European travels fill the shelves.

The room’s ceiling beams are spanned by iron tie rods made at Clay Hill Forge, simple forms with restrained ornamentation. “That’s acanthus leaf,” Schirmer explains, “and the little bird is a nod to my sister. Her name was Robin. I live with her memory there.”

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“I’ve always been a Francophile. I think it was a romantic ideal from my teenage years. On our honeymoon we went to Quebec; I thought that was the closest I would get to France.

“I wanted the stone terrace [off the great room] because a wooden deck off a French house just didn’t seem right. In the summer you can’t see any other houses. It feels really private, but I don’t feel isolated.

“[On fall mornings] I wake up and everything below the yard is clouds. It looks like I’m at a lake. The color of my bedroom is the color of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

“[In this room] I read, knit or do needlepoint, watch TV or movies, sit and talk with friends, practice my lines for the play, or just daydream and look out into the mountains. It’s the only sitting room in the house. I made sure the furniture was comfortable. My dad is 87; he lives in town. He comes every Sunday if not more. He sits in the recliner and we watch our sporting events.

“It’s also a great party room. That wasn’t on my wish list, but it works great. It doesn’t feel cavernous. The beams and tie rods bring the space down to being intimate. You’re not going to play hockey in here. We went with [a great room] instead of a formal living room and [separate] family room because our children are grown.

“Sometimes I’m reluctant to go do my chores in town because I really like being here. I like when it’s noisy and full of people, and I like when it’s quiet and just me with a cup of tea.

“It feels soul-satisfying to be this close to nature, with the trees and mountains and sky. I don’t want to say I feel peace. Maybe it’s contentment.”