Something For Everybody

Harvey was on the magic wire-box last night when we got home.  Although YZ had done lines from a couple scenes in his theater group, he had no interest in watching it; so I sat down and chuckled my way through one of my favorite movies.

"My mother once told me that to get through this life, you either had to be oh-so-smart, or oh-so-pleasant. For years I was smart. I recommend pleasant."

I do hope that Tom Hanks doesn't start believing his PR releases and remake this movie.  The slow pace reflects a different time, a different attitude, and it is perfect as is. [having said that, I would welcome one of our local theater groups doing it.  I can think of a couple of local actors who would be perfect many of the roles]

I confess that I have trouble being oh-so-pleasant.  I am impatient and more aggressive than I should be and I tend to speak too quickly.  This is a problem with a particular client, who is excitable and then we seem to just aggravate each other.  I think perhaps I will not make my next belt level until I resolve it, at least on my end.

But, he is still one of my favorite clients, because together we get to do work like this:

It has been a long time in development, particularly on the part of my client, who has spent two years on it.  But last month, the project received construction financing to convert 100,000 gross square feet to 34 moderately-priced loft apartments and parking for blue collar tenants in a small Wisconsin city.  Along a river.

I started becoming interested in conversion of buildings in college, the School or Archtiecture offered a couple of classes in adaptive reuse.  Historic Preservation is great, but I love adaptive reuse;  taking an old building and giving it new life through new uses.  I have converted nearly anything to nearly everything.

Funny.  I never had any interest in history.  Barely squeaked through history classes.  Until---

---until I started to relate the history of buildings to the history of the region, country, people.  Buildings reflect the values of the time; the needs of the time, the technology of the time.  Late 19th c/ early 20th C industrial buildings were strong, simple, and flexible.  They had large windows because they needed natural light and ventilation.  They were built of local materials, and were integral to local commerce.  But decorative effects were never ignored; even a garage was afforded more design consideration than today's standard Wal-Mart.

I like to think that my affection for the straightforward no-nonsense attitude of these buildings informs my new construction work.  I work so that that some of my buildings and projects have the longevity of these kinds of buildings;  I hope that in time they may even become woven into the fabric of a community and it's history.

I have never been one to work a niche in my professional life.  I worry about having to do the same projects over and over again, leading to 'scratching the back of my head with a shotgun'.  As a result, most of my professional work has been in urban and semi-urban areas.  I view the idea of designing for strip mall suburbs with a certain amount of distress.

I live in a house built in 1904.  When people visit, a common comment is "boy they don't build 'em like this anymore, do they?" to which I usually reply, "...because it's ILLEGAL."  It is uninsulated, poorly wired, with aged windows, uneven floors, kattywampus construction, and many examples of what I like to refer to as "Friday Afternoon Work".  It had lead water piping when we moved in. The basement leaks when it rains and sometimes the roof does too, and the winter wind blows through pretty much unimpeded.  It doesn't have a garage.  The setbacks and urban attitude are impossible in modern suburbs.  Yet it has character, a personality, history and a certain ungainly charm unmatched by thyroidal, overblown,  fake-stucco English Manor House knockoffs that seem to be the most common in new residences.

Well, I've wrestled with reality for 35 years, Doctor, and I'm happy to state I finally won out over it. 

Still working on it, but there's hope.  And finally:

I always have a wonderful time, wherever I am, whomever I'm with.

Old buildings speak to me; sometimes they sing, even if it's a simple, three chord song.   I try to sing along.

And we have a wonderful time.