Month: February 2015

Robin and Mary Felder like to call their place Monte Piccolo, meaning “tiny mountain.” That’s in deference to Thomas Jefferson, whose home was, of course, the “little mountain.” And while it may not be Monticello, there’s nothing small about the view from this elevated site in Ivy; you can see all the way to Wintergreen, 36 miles as the crow flies. At dusk, the lights of the ski slopes are like a sparkling necklace draped over the distant, dark ridge.

When the Felders bought their 24-acre property in 2002, they chose it not only for the view but for its potential as a place to raise pears for an on-site brandy distillery (which they hope to open, by appointment, this fall). Robin Felder, a pathology professor and a health system consultant by day, also has a keen interest in improving process and flow—in laboratories or, in this case, houses.

With all that in mind, the Felders hired Shank & Gray Architects to design their home. It needed to bring in the views, mesh with the sublime site, and serve a number of very specific functions. And the Felders had a clear vision of the house they wanted. “We’d been cutting pictures out of magazines to find the things we liked,” said Robin. “The architects were amazed at how monothematic our selections were.”

The common threads? “Modern, lots of glass, with flexible spaces,” said Robin. “We didn’t want to be a box on a hill.” The couple were drawn to Frank Lloyd Wright’s pagoda-style houses, where the second floor was much smaller than the first and deep roof overhangs deflect the elements.

Dick Shank and Bob Gray agreed. “Robin’s study was the only element of the second story and we tried to bury it in the roof,” said Gray.

An essentially horizontal arrangement puts the public and private sections of the house at opposite ends of an elongated bar, with the entryway being a narrow joint in the center. With all the big windows—in entryway, common rooms and master bedroom—facing southwest toward the Blue Ridge views, the house offers a sense of grandeur without itself being grand (though, seen from below when the windows reflect the sunset, the place is spectacular: a flaming gem on the hill).

The main living space sits below the second-story office, and maple-clad posts and beams not only support the upper floor but define the room as a box-within-the-box. “We tried to keep the spaces sort of intimate,” said Gray. This living area achieves that feel, with its seating arranged around a fireplace made of rustic gold slate and a travertine hearth. Bamboo floors and blonde maple woodwork lend warmth.

On the other side of the double-sided fireplace, guests can cozy up in chairs lined up along the outer side of one kitchen counter. “We physically separated the cooks from the guests. It’s great—the party’s raging right there, and you can hand hors d’oeuvres over, then move right into the dining room,” explained Robin.

Intelligent motion

That kind of approach—where the flow of living informs the physical arrangement of rooms —is central to this home. “This house was built with a strong overlay of function,” said Robin. Someone arriving home with groceries, for example, drives up a steep lane through the pear orchards and around the back of the house, where most of the utility and service aspects of the house are located. They’ll pass the common wing along the way, but not the master suite—protecting privacy in this heavily fenestrated house.

Then they’ll park in the garage and enter directly into the pantry, where there is a full-size refrigerator and freezer, plus ample storage cabinets. From there, it’s on to the kitchen, which has its own “staging fridge,” two dishwashers to avoid back-ups, and a trash masher to minimize trips to the dump.

Without groceries, one could choose to enter the house through a mudroom, with dedicated spaces for sorting mail and storing shoes. And along the north wall of the living area, a huge bank of 75 drawers provides a spot to store almost everything—and provides extra insulation.

Meanwhile, guests have their own dedicated routes: through the main entryway with its stunning view, then on into the living room where a bar area with its own dishwasher is tucked under the stairway for immediate access to drinks. “The party drinks start here and end here, so they don’t get mixed up with the kitchen,” said Robin. On the basement level, guests can flow between their bedrooms, an indoor sauna, changing room and outdoor pool without tracking water across wooden floors.

“If you put process in, unwittingly, you waste a lot less time,” said Robin.” You keep what you need where you’re going to use it.”

Gray said he appreciated working with clients who had such strong ideas. “It was very collaborative,” said Gray. And, of course, there’s the view. “It’s a stunning site, so it was a fairly rare opportunity.”

The breakdown

3,670 square feet

Structural system: Wood and structural steel frame

Exterior material: Combination of stone veneer and hard coat cement stucco

Interior finishes: Hard and soft wood paneling, painted gypsum board

Roof materials: Standing seam copper

Window system: Aluminum clad wood

Mechanical systems: Geo-thermal heat pumps

General contractor: Greer & Associates, Inc.

Prairie to foothills

The Felders named Frank Lloyd Wright’s prairie-style houses as one of their guiding lights in envisioning Monte Piccolo. So what were the key elements of that iconic movement in American architecture?

Stemming as it did from Midwestern roots, the Prairie School—of which Wright was the best-known practitioner—emphasized long, low horizontal lines that were meant to relate to the plains landscape around Chicago. In its time, the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the style was quite modern, and distinctly American.

The Felders’ house has the deep overhangs and emphasis on craftsmanship that were typical of the Prairie School. And, though the Felders’ site is anything but flat, the horizontal nature of their house, said architect Bob Gray, is appropriate. “We wanted to take a more horizontal approach to the house so that it didn’t overstate its presence,” he said.—E.H.

To read more from the February issue of Abode, click here.

Anyone with a fondness for Staunton—its well-kept, homey neighborhoods, walkable and engaging downtown and intact historical fabric—can appreciate the appeal of living a couple of blocks uphill from the center of town. Imagine it: You emerge from your house on foot and all but roll down to Beverley Street to partake of whatever pleasure (cappuccino, Shakespeare, etc.) is appropriate for the time of day.

Of course, being up the steep hill from downtown, said house would probably have a pretty great view. And, given that this neighborhood—the Newtown Historic District—is, well, historic, odds are good that the place would offer considerable charm of its own.

104 Church St. is affirmative on all counts. It’s a swaggering corner-dweller in the kind of neighborhood that has brick sidewalks and stone curbs. The house seems to have been unapologetically fancy when it was built around 1875, and it’s equally so now. After a long fallow period—from 1926, when it was converted to four apartments, until 2012, when local contractor Jesse O’Brien gutted and restored it—104 is back with a vengeance.

This renovation was the kind that’s called “sweeping.” Obviously the kitchen and bathrooms are totally new, and of course in restoring a big place to a single-family residence, O’Brien had to alter the bones of the house substantially. A grand curved staircase in the central hall, for example, had to be completely rebuilt.

Many of the old details are here in their full glory: original fireplace surrounds, one of which is so delightfully Victorian you may find yourself wanting to don a corset; impressive exterior cornices and doubled porch columns; high ceilings and generous transitional spaces (especially the super-wide upstairs hallway, the front of which could easily serve as an office or play room). The lot extends from Church Street back to the street behind, where there’s a nicely restored garage.

And the new additions, too, are largely intelligent and tasteful. The marble tile used in the kitchen and bathrooms has wide appeal and sets a luxurious tone. There are good modern ideas about laundry—i.e. put it near the bedrooms—and HVAC —i.e. three zones are better than one.

The house suggested to us many pleasant moments: welcoming a friend in through the side door off Johnson Street, where she’d sit at a table near the kitchen fireplace while something tasty cooked up on the big ol’ stove. Or pruning the rosebushes that line the brick walks around the back. Or reading the paper on the patio while someone else prunes the rosebushes.

Aside from picking out light fixtures—which are lacking in most rooms—there is nothing left to be done here. It’s the opposite of a fixer-upper, and if you moved in here, you’d be living with a lot of decisions already made by someone else.

Can you tell we’re not totally sold on all those decisions? Yes, it’s true, there are a couple of bones we can manage to pick with this rather perfect house. It comes down to proportions. Why, for example, is the library larger than the living room? The built-in bookshelves are few, so it wouldn’t actually function that well for storing books.

And, more troublingly, what is a person meant to do with the gargantuan master suite? It extends along one entire side of the second floor, and includes, in this order: a reasonable bedroom, a puzzling anteroom with a small closet, a yawning maw of a bathroom and a walk-in (or drive-in) closet.

The bathroom is the strangest element—its finishes are plenty nice, but the shower stall is teeny and the tub is dwarfed by the acres of empty space in the center of the room. Somehow, we’re pretty sure that all this real estate could have been better allocated—maybe even gaining a small yoga room or den in the process.

One other quibble, which may be no problemo for many would-be buyers: The outside spaces are completely carved up by walks, walls, stairs and patios. There’s nothing here that qualifies as open lawn, and there’s only one tree to speak of: a magnolia on a front corner. If it’s beach volleyball you desire, keep on trolling the MLS.

Ah, well. Quarrel we may, but the truth is, if we had the chance to buy a house this sparkly, you can bet we’d do it. And then we’d go shopping for a corset.

To read more from the February issue of Abode, click here.

Property details

Address: 104 Church St., Staunton

MLS#: 526112

Year built: 1875

Bedrooms: 4

Baths: 3.5

Square footage (finished): 5,777

Extras: Garage, finished basement

List price: $795,000

Buildings reflect priorities. In 1949, when Jennifer Greenhalgh’s house on Park Street was built, kitchens were not the centerpieces they’ve become today. She and her husband Blake bought the colonial-style dwelling in 2008 and immediately set about making the kitchen more relevant to their contemporary lifestyle.

“The kitchen was much smaller,” she remembered, standing with arms outspread to show how she used to be able to touch both walls at once. Meanwhile, the adjacent dining room was generously sized, but totally separate from the kitchen.

Both Greenhalghs are building pros—he’s in the family construction business while she runs Jackson + Park Design with partner Kelly Carwile—so renovation felt like second nature. “We touched every space in the house,” Jennifer said. Having changed little since it was built, the house was full of outdated finishes—like the blue gingham wallpaper and blue countertops in the kitchen. Linoleum covered original hardwood flooring, and the dining room had its own cringe-worthy wallpaper.

First step? Down came the wall between kitchen and dining room, creating an ample combined room that lets cook, family and guests share the same space in harmony. The kitchen gained considerable square footage (and, of course, storage), yet the dining room still feels roomy. “We felt like the kitchen is where we were going to spend so much time, so we didn’t want to feel contained,” Jennifer said.

The new layout—which didn’t require moving any doorways—features a chunky central island, holding the cooktop and a bar with three stools. Cabinets line three sides of the room. One window on the rear wall was sacrificed for more storage, but with light now able to pour in through the front, the tradeoff was more than worthwhile.

“We really did, in the planning phase, think about what our needs would be,” said Jennifer. “I marked on plans what dishes would go where.”

As for aesthetics, the Greenhalghs, having lived in San Francisco for several years, retained a fondness for “California contemporary” style. To Jennifer, that means “neutral palettes, very soothing with clean lines.” While the look is simple, it’s not totally minimal. “We stuck with more traditional Shaker cabinets, but with no fuss.”

The palette is quiet and elegant, with the countertops being the most forward element. “I was coveting marble, but our lifestyle didn’t warrant it, since it stains,” said Jennifer. Instead, she found a quartzite called Fantasy White, in a honed matte finish, which mimics the white-and-gray pattern of Carrara marble but more easily takes a beating. “We have really put it to the test, and it’s been awesome,” she said.

Cabinets are painted a subtle gray, a couple of shades darker than the walls. Accents come in the form of chrome drawer pulls and a backsplash made of marble and glass tile.

Decorations are few: black-and-white photos by Blake’s mother, Beverley Byrd, and a gold four-leaf clover handed down by Jennifer’s parents. Around the farm table in the dining area are bamboo-backed side chairs and wicker head chairs with upholstered seats. Here, the Greenhalghs eat most of their meals, ending dinner with a nightly card game with their 5-year-old son.

Jennifer likes to entertain, too—once a week she hosts a potluck for anywhere from three to a dozen friends. In a well-thought-out space, intimacy and flow don’t have to be at odds. “I tried to choose a style that wasn’t trendy,” said Jennifer. “You want to feel like you can be happy with it for a really long time.”

The breakdown

375 square feet

Primary materials or finishes: “Shoji White” paint by Sherwin Williams

Kitchen and pantry cabinets; dining room bookcases, shelves, cabinets, and counters: Cuisine Laurier cabinets painted in “Worldly Gray” by Sherwin Williams; Fantasy White quartzite counter-tops; LBL Lighting pendants; Atlas Homewares Asian-inspired hardware; Room and Board bar/bookcase.

Appliances: Thermador

Sinks: Elkay

Flooring: Original oak

Other notable, custom or innovative features: Custom cabinets with organizing inserts and contemporary cove molding.

To read more from the February issue of Abode, click here.

Local designer Jeannette Andamasaris wasn’t always into design. In fact, when she graduated from Ohio University, she had a degree in Marine Biology. But traveling around the world as a dancer honed her interest in architecture and other cultures and, while working as a performance artist, she had the opportunity to get involved with the dance company’s set and costume fabrication. From there, Jeannette became the in-house interior coordinator for a design-build firm, a designer for a design-import company and later co-founded a tile and design showroom. In 2010, she started JAID Style, which, locally, counts Old Metropolitan Hall and Starr Hill Brewery’s tasting room among its clients. We asked Jeannette to share what she’s into right now.

What are you currently reading? I Married Adventure by Osa Johnson.

What are you listening to? I rotate heavily these days between The Smiths, Joao Gilberto, Angel Olsen and Porcelain Raft.

What are you watching on TV? “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.”

What are you eating/drinking lately? That’s hard! I love food and trying new things. But lately I can’t get enough roast chicken and Greek salad. Drinking is easy: Pastis.

What are you working on? I have a great mix of commercial and residential projects right now. I’m excited about a new restaurant that we are working on that is about to open on the Corner within the next month. I’m also eagerly anticipating construction to start on a building that I’ve designed with a dream client. We have zero creativity limits on this one, so it’s going to be a fun process.

Want to know more? Visit her website, jaidstyle.com, to get in touch.

To read more from the February issue of Abode, click here.

As a child, architect Robert Nichols was always fixing broken things and salvaging other people’s junk. And once he started creating new objects, he became even more hooked on the process. “I loved the thrill of establishing authorship through a deliberate effort—I had evolved from a tinkerer to a designer,” Nichols said. He’s translated that thrill into a 20-year career incorporating all the things he’s long had an interest in—technology, materials, art and graphic design among them—working alongside his wife, Cecilia Nichols, at their firm, Formwork, where he focuses on multi-residential and hospitality projects and manages the integration and coordination of technical systems.

“The pleasure of layering an attitude of beauty and craft over the utility of a purely functional idea has never left me,” he said.—Caite White

Why architecture?

Architecture is a broad field, with a historical trajectory as long as human history. Thus, in most cases, studying and practicing architecture is the work of a generalist. This saved me from a meandering career path in which I did not want to commit to anything in particular for fear of setting aside everything else.

Why did you choose to practice in Virginia?

It’s the village quality of Charlottesville that makes it work for me. I had lived for two years in Central America before entering graduate school, and I think that was when I discovered how satisfying village life can be compared to living in a big metropolis. Charlottesville has many of the qualities of Richard Scarry’s Busytown, which always struck me as a great place to live and work.

What was your life like as a child and how did it lead to design?

To this day, I believe the most beautiful object I have ever created was a 1969 bicycle I had modified to shoot bottle rockets from a carefully machined aperture in the steering column. The rockets were activated by discreet push-buttons reached from the ends of the tubular handle bars.

Tell us about your college studio experience. Was there a stand-out teacher who had a lasting impact on you?

I found architecture school design studio courses thrilling and somewhat terrifying. I work best when solving design problems within a fairly tight context. In most cases, at school you are starting with a blank slate. My professional life is so satisfying now in part because my partner is very good at tackling the amorphous blank slate problem. She creates the initial gestures that give shape and internal context to our work, but it is never easygoing, never automatic, getting these early design ideas built on a site. That’s where I come in. I contribute by creating the construction and technical solutions that keep the design principals intact. In that sense, she is a problem creator and I’m a problem solver.

Robin Dripps at the School of Architecture here at UVA taught me that the questions can persist unanswered across projects, and even across a career. Answers aren’t so important. That’s a good thing and a fundamental lesson for life.

On process: how does it begin?

I begin by letting my mind wander, staying away from firm ideas. All existing assumptions need to be reviewed and tweaked or tossed out. I need to create the design “envelope” from scratch and at my own pace. That includes dreary things like making sure we’ve got a correct interpretation of regulatory constraints, zoning rules and such, but also more esoteric issues, like how tall is “tall”? Or, is that big mountain over there really the “big view”?

What inspires you?

Intellectual generosity, which is a necessary precursor to true collaboration and growth. That and gorgeous proportions.

How does the site or sense of place inform architecture for you?

A lot of our work takes place within existing buildings, so history is a big component of site and context for us. We are modernists at heart, so our task often is figuring out an appropriate way to engage our new work with quality work of the past. It’s not easy to do. People sometimes grumble about the constraints posed by the Board of Architectural Review here in Charlottesville, or any design review board for that matter, but those boards can shine light on a fair question: What is an appropriate contribution to existing fabric?

What’s in the studio at the moment?

We have quite a bit of excellent commercial work in the office, which is a nice complement to our private residential projects. Our commercial clients need to determine the right time to announce their projects, so I can’t really say anything about them. But we are very happy to be working on what will be substantial contributions to highly visible parts of Charlottesville. We have some projects in warmer climates as well.

How would you assess the state of architecture in our region?

There are many architects in Charlottesville whose work I really admire, but my general assessment is that things are bleak. Commercial work is depressing, but that is not a local problem, nor even a design problem as much as a larger collapse of urban thinking and values. Somehow the economics of commercial development needs to discover the advantages of better design. Industrial design evolved in this regard in the 1990s (Apple, etc.). Perhaps real estate development will start to reflect better architectural and urban design as an economic advantage.

Among Robert Nichols’ projects are an oversize condo in the Belmont Lofts (previous page and top), the renovations of the historic Jefferson Theater and downtown Mudhouse, as well as the Silverchair offices.

To read more from the February issue of Abode, click here.