Retrospective: An early design

We came into this project after meeting an architect at a party, who was working on a custom house, very clean, very chic. It was that kind of party, after all.

His clients were very much into art, and wanted something to showcase their sculptures, give them places to hang out, look good from the house and provide privacy along the back of the property.

I don’t remember much about the party, maybe it was to celebrate Belgian New Year, eat lots of frites and speak in two languages (French and English, no Flemish here).

We’re still friends with the architect, but the host has since divorced, moved far away and disappeared from our lives.

This thing started with all kinds of fun things. At this point, we were a lot closer to our past life in France, where Annette worked with a city and Mike worked with an architect d’extérieur (his term). We’re still in touch with this architect, too. Although he’s perhaps more an author than an architect at this point.

There was a giant hand for lying in the sun, a patio fountain, groves of trees (we wanted drought tolerant palo verdes, ended up with short-lived birches). There was a huge walnut tree that the house was partially designed around. Visitors arrived at the front door after passing through a walled sculpture garden.

No lack of controversy here. The house’s style departed radically from the neighborhood’s. People would drive by and throw eggs, give either the bird or a thumbs up, and generally act crazy or nice.

The Sacramento Bee ran an article. Someone named it the Fire Station.

Little did they know that those trees we’d designed to march all the way across the front yard would make the façade virtually disappear within a few years!

Unlike an Ayn Rand character, none of us got famous. We didn’t land wonderful commissions from art lovers or people wanting something unique.

Somewhat suddenly the owners became super fans of schnausers. Two of them. So in went a dog run. There was a parrot in the story too, but he didn’t need any special landscaping.

That incredible, historic walnut tree was too messy. It went, replaced by a river birch. Now the house was open to the levee!

The olives grew in, creating deep shade in the front.

Growing your own vegetables was a thing, too. In went two raised beds that produced a few years of crops, only to become an eyesore.

The live oaks grew to completely screen the house in the back, also shading out the plants underneath and burying them in leaf litter. This was a good look, actually, since a large sculpture under the trees was unobstructed. Or would have been if the lower limbs had been pruned to reveal the art.

At some point the original owners decided the house was, after all, too small. Or they had friends stay with them. We don’t know. It seemed to function quite well as it was, with a beautiful dining room nestled off a large, functional kitchen, a living room on another level, a master bedroom and bath on the second floor and an office and bath nestled near the stairway.

So it got an ADU. We only saw it after the house had been sold, so the who and why remain a mystery.

The ADU, done by the original architect, helped the landscape design. It better anchored the patio, provided more privacy and did not replace any important plants or sculptures.

Maintenance during this period seemed to fall off. Surfaces degraded, plants grew without trimming and moss encroached on the concrete paving in winter.

We didn’t learn of the ADU or other changes until the new owner called us for a consult. Funny, since we had been in touch with the original architect over the years, and it didn’t seem like something that should stay secret. Certainly not on an eighteen year old project.

Moss covered the decomposed granite paving, she did not want a dog run cutting through the garden, and she wanted to add vegetable planters, replacing the ones removed by the original owners. The stairs from the terrace, replaced by a fun, friendly but less than skilled contractor, needed replacement, too.

The original owners repainted the screen walls deep viridian green, maybe more Hooker’s green. They looked better in earth tones to match the house, but you know how it goes: never tell an artist what color to paint something. Viridian is a great color for painting water in Puget Sound. For walls in Mediterranean Sacramento, not so much. Since then, someone repainted the walls a more appropriate gray green that goes well with the olives.

The olives screening the house are now mature, and should be pruned to better show off their structure and let more light through to the ground – although not enough to reignite the original controversy. The decomposed granite has been restored, the chain link fence at the dog run removed so the back yard is a continuous space.