THE MAINE ATTRACTION
Architect Gil Schafer explains how childhood memories informed a renovation that achieves the balance between then and now
Childhood memories inform a renovation that achieves the balance between past and present
Iam an unlikely Maine man, being allergic to both lobster and blueberries. But the peripatetic childhood I enjoyed allowed me to spend time in that coastal place, and although my memories of that time are vague and impressionistic, they are highly sensory.
as an adult, I felt the draw to explore the area in greater depth and started renting houses on the Blue hill peninsula during the summer. I embraced the remoteness there – the disconnectedness from modern life. But it was an oddly ugly house, just a few feet from the water’s edge with a view across the bay, that really got its hooks into me. It was for sale and I was weak.
The early-nineties, chalet-style house had, as the saying goes, ‘issues’. on the plus side was a nine by nine square metre great room with a double-height, peaked ceiling looking out at the view. unfortunately, the floors, beams and ceilings throughout the house were stained a vibrant, disagreeable orange. small windows cut off your view of the horizon and made the rooms feel shabby and claustrophobic. The upstairs was a mostly windowless attic.
Yet, for me, the utter absence of architecture was a positive. If I had bought a classic nineteenth-century Maine clapboard or shingle house to restore, it would have become a nest of woes and a money pit. My orange chalet, by contrast, was mute: a featureless box that I could tailor to my needs and vision relatively easily without having to make much of a statement of any sort.
The greatest head-scratcher – how to lay out the great room – was one I finally solved using interior decoration as much as architecture. I began drawing various furniture plans, finally arriving at a yin-and-yang arrangement, with two back-to-back sitting areas: one facing the water, the other orientated toward the fireplace and a TV. The kitchen, once stuck in a corner, was reorganized to run lengthways opposite the sitting areas. a long floating island would serve as the informal dividing line between the room’s two sides. This improved the whole space, connecting everything in the room visually and otherwise with the entirety of the house, and giving it a relaxed air.
I knew I would need to find a balance between modernity and tradition. The structure’s barn-like simplicity felt contemporary, yet the heavy timber beams and trusses, the gabled ends and the clapboard siding all suggested a vernacular barn building. In the end, I needed to find a way to articulate an interior that had the airiness and simplicity of a modern building but also connected with memory in a similar way to my other work. ultimately, I introduced certain elements, such as the horizontal and vertical wood-plank walls and the wrought-iron thumb-latch handles and strap hinges on the plank doors, which reached back to rural history. I balanced them with modern elements like the bent-edge hardware on the kitchen cabinetry and the oak plywood panelling and slate mantel for the library. My hope is that the house belongs unmistakably to the present yet retains a connection to traditional Maine architecture that is neither old-fashioned nor gimmicky.
Throughout the house, you will find a smattering of vintage midcentury modern furniture, mostly scandinavian. There is a strong tradition of Modernism throughout new england (I had actually looked at a residence by Bauhaus founder Walter gropius). I then filled in around them with other antiques and custom pieces. In the end, the key was not to be too slavish to any one period.
Personally and professionally, my Maine house hassled me down a new road. But something happened in the course of getting the place in shape that still resonates. When the contractor was digging a well for the house, the rig seemed to grind away for hours. after going down about 152 metres, they hit water, but were only coming up with four litres or so a minute. nonetheless, the crew chief advised that we stop. ‘If we keep going, we’ll hit saltwater, and then the whole well will be contaminated,’ he said. ‘right now we have clear, pure water – it’s not a lot, but if you go too far, you’ll lose it all.’
experienced architects and designers push the envelope all the time, yet have an innate sense of when they’ve gone just far enough. Practicing classical architecture for 30 years taught me when and how to bend and break the rules, and creating this house has led me further still toward the nexus between history and modernity and the ways in which that might be achieved. I have no idea what awaits on the next stretch of my creative journey. But I plan to keep digging for the pure stuff.
‘I KNEW I WOULD NEED TO FIND A BALANCE BETWEEN MODERNITY AND TRADITION’