Good afternoon - in your future correspondence with me, please add a small handfull of additional letters to my official address: I am now Andy O, AIA, LEED AP .
I've spent the past several weeks experiencing the US Green Building Council's "Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED) Green Building Rating System". Spent a couple hours in a testing center, and am now, Dei Gratia, an accredited professional.
Go ahead, ask me a green question. Anything. Bring it on.
Saturday, December 08, 2007
Sunday, October 14, 2007
1717 Lessons Learned
I've wanted to write this article for a long time, and have now had the opportunity. It's a lessons-learned article about building one's own house.
Ten Lessons from an Architect’s Home Building Experience
Over the course of four years, my wife and I bought land, designed our new home, hired a general contractor, and saw the home built and finished. We went through many interviews with contractors, learned how much we could afford, and scaled back the project scope to its current size and configuration.
The general contractor we hired was knowledgeable, but he showed little interest in managing our home. His subcontractors took weeks to arrive on site and attempted to overcharge us, consistently. As designers, my wife and I attempted every method we could to cut costs, including using common material dimensions and doing the finish work ourselves. The contractors took no note of our cost saving designs, and the work we did ourselves produced less than professional results.
We took some chances and used several progressive design materials and methods. We used Structural Insulated Panels (SIPs) for the walls and roof. We used pre-cast concrete stud panels for the basement. And we used several alternative finish materials, including stained concrete in the kitchen and living rooms, plywood flooring in the corridors and studio, and break-metal flashing for wall base.
We’re glad to be in our home, glad that it’s “ours,” and we learned a few lessons on the way:
LESSON #1 Go with your good ideas.
LESSON #2: Build where you want to live.
LESSON #3: Use real contracts.
LESSON #4: Remember how much this is costing you.
LESSON #5: Trust your engineers.
LESSON #6: Hang on to your friends.
LESSON #7: Watch your mouth.
LESSON #8 Don't feel sorry for the contractor.
LESSON #9: Keep track of the costs yourself.
LESSON #10: Don't do it yourself.
Part 1: DESIGN
The first day of design was the best. My wife and I sat across the kitchen table in our little apartment, with the dim overhead light. We set out a roll of architects' trace paper, "trash", and she drew on her side and I drew on mine. The concepts came quickly, we had the ideas already, we were ready to move ahead.
LESSON #1 Go with your good ideas.
My wife and I had a few design ideas that were important to us. One was having steps in significant places, another was having a two-story lit hallway, and a third was energy efficiency and innovative building systems. These were all quirky, personal ideas that, at one time or another, someone would try to talk us out of. We're thankful we followed them through.
First, steps. We have a step down from the entrance into the living area. We have a step up from the public area of the house to the bedrooms. The steps were an area of good compromise between my wife and myself. I've seen a few people trip on them, an elderly neighbor and friends' children, and that makes me re-evaluate their value-to-risk, but they gave us a good place to transition materials, and they're symbolic in some ways, and they're okay.
The two-story lit hallway was an idea that I could see in my mind, but that almost no one else could understand. As we cut rooms off the back of the house, the hallway turned into a dead end with a little library / reading nook at the end. Even those who sympathized with the idea thought it wouldn't be what we expected. That dead end hallway, with the windows and warm southern light, has become one of my favorite rooms in the house. My wife bought me a perfect Eames chair to put by the book shelves, and with a little rug, it's perfect. When I sit it that chair, I almost always think of quitting my job and becoming a poet. So, it's risky, but it's a good risky.
Energy efficiency is always a good idea, and one we enjoy every time the cooling bills come in. The SIPS were a good idea - they went up simply, gave us vaulted ceilings, and a very quiet, tight home.
Part 2: LAND
Finding the land came quickly too. We had simple goals: close to work, close to church, on a street with sidewalks and curbs. And we had a budget. Our first realtor thought our budget was useless, impossible, a waste of her time. She gave us some sites far outside the city limits, sites without water or sewer. She proceeded then to inform us that her son was an up and coming home builder, that he was very successful, that he had connections who may be helpful to our otherwise impossible goals, and that this could all turn out to be a profitable experience for all of us.
We left her office and found another realtor. I understand it would be helpful to readers to share how we found a better realtor, but honestly, I can't remember. However, I may never forget his face, because for the next two years, following our land purchase, we remained on his mailing list, and each envelope included another business card with his smiling portrait. We found the land we wanted. It was on an old, under-developed, dead-end street. It was quiet, but with plenty of activity. The architecture on the street was already widely varied: very small homes and large ones, some new, and most with the character of age. We met friendly people, it was near to the office, near to church, and the street had sidewalks and curbs.
Our realtor with the friendly photograph spent several months referring us to contractors and pressing us to finish our drawings. Despite his pressure, we knew we needed to press on. Our drawings had to be precise, so that our pricing would be fair. We standardized our dimensions - 4 foot and 8 foot increments, for efficiency of materials. We selected modern construction systems for simplicity of construction, for off-the-shelf accessibility, and for timely coordination. We were sure that these deliberate methods, along with detailed construction drawings, would allow any contractor to produce the home we wanted exactly, to give us a price we could both have confidence in without fear of change orders, and that that price would be lower than the market rate.
LESSON #2: Build where you want to live.
Of all the decisions we made in this process, I think we did this one right. This one goes to the nature of "home." A lot of people give a lot of reasons for buying a particular house. The most popular reasons are resale value, school systems, and safety. I won't deny the validity of these concerns, but I will say that they must take second place to concerns about living.
I didn't want to buy a house while thinking about selling it. I'm not an entrepreneur, not a developer or a realtor. Resale wasn't my goal. I wanted a place to grow my family, a sanctuary from the world, a home.
In our town, the school districts change every year. Demographics shift, politicians play their games, and bussing is unpredictable. There's no way to predict the status of the system when my children will be of age, it's my civil duty support whatever local system our family is in, and if we don't like it, private school is an option.
And safety - it's a myth. The way to improve crime statistics in any region is to support the law enforcement in those areas, to get to know your neighbors, and to live a better example. I'm over-simplifying several enormous social issues, but again, I didn't want to live paranoid, and I didn't want to live removed from true society.
Our neighborhood has the sidewalks and curbs we wanted. We enjoy walking the street. We're thankful to see so many kids playing so often. We have a park, a playground, and a grocery store a comfortable walking distance away. And, our son will grow up hearing no fewer than four different languages, meeting children of different races, with parents of different backgrounds and professions. It's the right way to live in the world, and I feel good about it.
Part 3: CONTRACTORS
We started meeting with contractors. The first meetings were in comfortable offices and restaurants. We met with our realtor's associates, we met with reputable professionals in our area, we met with friends of colleagues. They reviewed our floor plans, they didn't sit down. "$100 per square foot." It was like a contractor mantra. It was like they were unionized. It was like their finger was on the pulse of the market, and that market could be phenomenally quantified and averaged, in respect of materials and labor and all conceivable contingencies, and the universal answer was "$100 per square foot." Design didn't matter. Innovative materials and methods didn't matter. Standardized dimensions? That's just naïve. One contractor did have another way of pricing: it was a factor of the price of the land, the square footage of the footprint, and some engineered constant driven by market forces and mood. The more we tried to reason with this man, asking him to bill us for the materials and labor for the work, plus a reasonable overhead, the more we just got mad.
Finally, we called the phone number on a yard sign that we saw on a front lawn of a renovated home in a prominent neighborhood.
LESSON #3: Use real contracts.
We used A105-1993, “Standard Form of Agreement Between Owner and Contractor for a Small Project” from the American Institute of Architects. A standard contract can be customized to meet your project, and your specific needs. Much of the day-to-day agreements between you and your contractor will be simple, verbal, or scratched on notebook paper. However, having a real contract in place as a foundation will dramatically limit your liabilities and can help profoundly when the issues get tricky. Contact your local AIA chapter, or go to www.aia.org.
Part 4: THE BANK
Several of my angriest phone calls during this process were with the bank. They were doing their due diligence. With the sub-prime mortgage crisis now, it’s a good thing they did, but man did they give us a hard time.
10/30 Got a call from the bank's plans appraiser. "Your typical buyer is looking for:.." Apparently our house is not a typical house that a typical buyer would want to buy with the amount of money we're putting in. We don't have a coat closet and we don't have a palatial bathroom and so on. It's hard to build your own house. We'll see what happens next.
LESSON #4: Remember how much this is costing you.
Most of these lessons are related, but this is a big one. With all hope that your home is the investment you intend it to be, it will still cost you a lot of money. Your mortgage will very likely be the largest bill you pay every month, every month until you are a much older person.
I remind you of this because every time I make that mortgage payment, I am reminded of all the things around the house that the contractor didn't finish. I'm reminded of the places around the house, where the contractor used inferior products or methods that I will have to pay, again, to replace or have redone. My dad liked to say that you get what you pay for. Remember that you are paying a lot, and make sure you get what you need, in good materials and proven construction methods.
Part 5: PERMITS
Permits for most houses are . . . easy. If you read any municipality’s website, they require about 4 drawings, a site plot, and a couple hundred dollars. If you try to do something new, or anything prefabricated, it gets more complicated. In that case, you need engineers, with seals in your state. You’ll have to answer a lot of questions. We had a lot of engineers.
February and March Our builder called one day saying that our plot plan wasn't drawn just right. We made some changes and turned that in to the city. No progress, no progress - our plans got put back on the bottom of the pile. In early March, I went to the city myself and talked to a few friendly people. The plans were ready to pick up - with no permit,. They were marked up with several comments. Some were things on the plans that they missed, but most were comments that they needed seals for all the pre-fab parts . It took about three weeks to pull those together and three more engineers. This may be the most designers of record per square foot on the East coast.
LESSON #5: Trust your engineers.
As an architect, I have mixed feelings about the profession of engineering. I know that to my engineer friends, the feelings are mutual! Because of the multiple building systems we used on this house, we had a potpourri of engineers, just so we could get our plans through the city. Every time the house creaks and pops with a change in weather, I hope those engineers did their jobs.
The one engineer who really came through for us was our geotech. We had the soils tested many months before construction began. We had a sealed report about the bearing pressure of the soils, and that report became the basis for the foundation design.
On the first day of construction, the contractor called to say that the soils were no good, would have to be over-excavated, and wouldn’t we like to have a much larger basement anyway. When we notified our geotech, he immediately came out to the site, re-tested the soil, and restated his opinion that the soil was fine. He attended an ad hoc meeting with the contractor and our foundation engineer, and stated his opinion that the contractor should put the dirt back in the hole, and certainly should not charge for the work. He got us out of a lot of money, and gave us credibility that kept the contractor at bay when things got tough the next time.
Part 6: WAITING
Finding land can take an instant or years. Getting a loan can take weeks. Permits can take months. And contractors . . . contractors can take as long as they feel like taking, depending on the market. Be prepared to wait a lot.
4/10 No new news. Went out with some hugely supportive friends after work and had a good time. We drove by the lot on the way home and it was dark, but it looks like a good place for a house. We're wondering about when the crew will arrive and how many trucks will drive down our quiet little street over the next months.
LESSON #6: Hang on to your friends.
Every step of the way, you’ll be doubting yourself. And, you’ll have time to do it. You need your friends. You need them for reassurance, for listening ears to your ridiculous stories, for the voice of experience if you’re lucky, and you need them to remind you that you’re not in this adventure alone.
Part 7: CONSTRUCTION BEGINS
We ran to the site the first day we saw the crews arrive. The hole was dug in a day. The pre-fab concrete-stud foundation and basement panels came on a truck and were dropped in a place in a morning. The floor joists went on top of the basement panels, and then we waited.
7/1 Slab poured, sawcut. Wall panel sub says he'll be here before the end of July. Contractor says we'll have some slow weeks.
7/31 Wall panel sub says he'll be here next week.
8/15 Wall panel sub says he'll be here next week.
8/22 Wall panel sub says he'll be here next week without fail.
8/30 10:45pm Trucks fill street in front of our lot with panel blanks. Neighbors call the police because of the late-night disturbance.
LESSON #7: Watch your mouth.
After all the months of waiting for our turn in line, on the first day of construction, the day the digging began, I received a call at work from our contractor. He said, "The soil's no good. We have to dig out twice as much as we expected. It's going to cost $10,000 more. Is that okay?” Without thinking enough, and eager to get started, I said, "Yes." Those three letters haunted the rest of the job and the end result.
Also, it goes without saying that "a gentle answer turns away wrath." Your life savings are on the line, your contractor's work is called into question - your opinions will differ, but you'll be working together for several months at least. Keeping a careful reign on your tongue is critical for so many reasons.
LESSON #8 Don't feel sorry for the contractor. This is my worst regret.
Say "NO.": When he asks you for extra money for things that are already in the contract.
Say "NO.": When he tells you there's a problem that's going to change the whole job and he wants to do it without giving you time to think it through.
Say "NO.": When he tells you that that's the best he can do.
Say "NO.": When he wants to leave part unfinished because he has another job to get to.
Say "NO.": When he tells you his sub is going to be a few months later than expected.
Say "NO.": When he puts a window in a different place than the plans show and he wants to know if he can leave it because, "It doesn't really make a difference, does it?"
To be fair, when you make a change to the job, or when legitimate unforeseeable circumstances arise, make an agreement for a fair change in fee. And, be willing to accept reasonable delays, especially during busy or weather-prone building seasons. Your contract will help you understand what’s fair and what’s to be expected.
Part 8: MORE MONEY
The good news about construction money is that it’s cheap and easy to come by. You’ve already signed all the paperwork, and the bank is more than willing to do their part. A construction loan comes with very low interest, and for the first few draws, you don’t owe very much. The bad news is that you’re paying it out fast.
LESSON #9: Keep track of the costs yourself.
Tracking the allowances, draws, and change orders is critical. If your contractor is like ours, he may have little interest in actually tracking the financials himself, despite your expectations. Our contractor seemed to have some vague idea of a barter system. He continued to remind us that he took the cost of the "hole" on the chin, despite our explanation that it was his sub that was taking him for a ride, and he expected us to take the cost of the other issues as they came up. We maintained a spreadsheet of the agreed price, the allowances, the draws, and the change orders. This became our best resource in the ever-present money conversations. By the middle of the job, our contractor was asking us for copies of our spreadsheets.
Part 9: DOING IT YOURSELF
LESSON #10: Don't do it yourself.
Money is a constant point of decision - what do I want, what am I paying for, and what can I do myself for free? In order to save money, we thought, we opted to do most of the finishes by ourselves. Thus this lesson: Don’t Do It – keep your day job.
1) Paint - we had one bold work day with our best friends. We put on the primer coat. The whole house was whitewashed. We reached as far as we could into the highest points of the ceilings. We wore ourselves out, and realized we had yet to put on the color coats. For what seemed like a very reasonable sum, we hired the painter to finish the job. Since then, I've done some painting around the house and have learned that I'm not the artist I thought I could be - spots on the carpet, spots on the ceiling, wavy cut lines, and no one to blame.
2) Tile: When we worked on the house, it was winter, and we had no heat. Instead, we had a propane heater that looked, sounded, and smelled like an indoor jet engine. My wife did much of the hands-on tile work, I did the cutting. We chose some wonderful tile, which meant that it was extraordinarily hard to cut. My wife's hands were frozen and dried and cracked by mortar for weeks. And despite our noblest efforts, we could not deny the truth that we had never done this before, and we learned this was an art requiring some skill. The freezing conditions begat haste. I hate that we put ourselves through that ordeal, and the finished product leaves some to be desired.
3) Cabinets: This was something I just wanted to do. Perhaps the tile was like that for my wife. I wanted to try to build a part of my own house with my own hands, and I'm glad I did it. I built the cabinet boxes for our kitchen and around the house. They're quirky to say the least, but they're ours. We hired a cabinet shop to make the cherry doors - that was a good decision, to give us a good finish. And after months of “somedays,” we hired a woodworker to fix our drawers so that they actually worked. This has been a wonderful breakthrough, and another good decision. So, when I say I built our cabinets, I must clarify that I didn't build the parts that showed, and the functional parts I built didn't function the first time around. When you decide to do your own work, for whatever reason, it's important to at least know what you're getting into.
Part 10: HOME AT LAST
We’ll never forget our first night in our new house. It was surprisingly quiet after so many months of noisy construction. It was our home. We opened the window and heard the night sounds that are familiar now, but which we were discovering for the first time. Our home is the sanctuary we hoped for. It’s a perfect place to raise our son and future children. It came with memories the day we moved in, and plenty of reminders that nobody’s perfect. And, we learned a lot to pass on to the next generation of home builders.
© 2007 Andy Osterlund, AIA
Ten Lessons from an Architect’s Home Building Experience
Over the course of four years, my wife and I bought land, designed our new home, hired a general contractor, and saw the home built and finished. We went through many interviews with contractors, learned how much we could afford, and scaled back the project scope to its current size and configuration.
The general contractor we hired was knowledgeable, but he showed little interest in managing our home. His subcontractors took weeks to arrive on site and attempted to overcharge us, consistently. As designers, my wife and I attempted every method we could to cut costs, including using common material dimensions and doing the finish work ourselves. The contractors took no note of our cost saving designs, and the work we did ourselves produced less than professional results.
We took some chances and used several progressive design materials and methods. We used Structural Insulated Panels (SIPs) for the walls and roof. We used pre-cast concrete stud panels for the basement. And we used several alternative finish materials, including stained concrete in the kitchen and living rooms, plywood flooring in the corridors and studio, and break-metal flashing for wall base.
We’re glad to be in our home, glad that it’s “ours,” and we learned a few lessons on the way:
LESSON #1 Go with your good ideas.
LESSON #2: Build where you want to live.
LESSON #3: Use real contracts.
LESSON #4: Remember how much this is costing you.
LESSON #5: Trust your engineers.
LESSON #6: Hang on to your friends.
LESSON #7: Watch your mouth.
LESSON #8 Don't feel sorry for the contractor.
LESSON #9: Keep track of the costs yourself.
LESSON #10: Don't do it yourself.
Part 1: DESIGN
The first day of design was the best. My wife and I sat across the kitchen table in our little apartment, with the dim overhead light. We set out a roll of architects' trace paper, "trash", and she drew on her side and I drew on mine. The concepts came quickly, we had the ideas already, we were ready to move ahead.
LESSON #1 Go with your good ideas.
My wife and I had a few design ideas that were important to us. One was having steps in significant places, another was having a two-story lit hallway, and a third was energy efficiency and innovative building systems. These were all quirky, personal ideas that, at one time or another, someone would try to talk us out of. We're thankful we followed them through.
First, steps. We have a step down from the entrance into the living area. We have a step up from the public area of the house to the bedrooms. The steps were an area of good compromise between my wife and myself. I've seen a few people trip on them, an elderly neighbor and friends' children, and that makes me re-evaluate their value-to-risk, but they gave us a good place to transition materials, and they're symbolic in some ways, and they're okay.
The two-story lit hallway was an idea that I could see in my mind, but that almost no one else could understand. As we cut rooms off the back of the house, the hallway turned into a dead end with a little library / reading nook at the end. Even those who sympathized with the idea thought it wouldn't be what we expected. That dead end hallway, with the windows and warm southern light, has become one of my favorite rooms in the house. My wife bought me a perfect Eames chair to put by the book shelves, and with a little rug, it's perfect. When I sit it that chair, I almost always think of quitting my job and becoming a poet. So, it's risky, but it's a good risky.
Energy efficiency is always a good idea, and one we enjoy every time the cooling bills come in. The SIPS were a good idea - they went up simply, gave us vaulted ceilings, and a very quiet, tight home.
Part 2: LAND
Finding the land came quickly too. We had simple goals: close to work, close to church, on a street with sidewalks and curbs. And we had a budget. Our first realtor thought our budget was useless, impossible, a waste of her time. She gave us some sites far outside the city limits, sites without water or sewer. She proceeded then to inform us that her son was an up and coming home builder, that he was very successful, that he had connections who may be helpful to our otherwise impossible goals, and that this could all turn out to be a profitable experience for all of us.
We left her office and found another realtor. I understand it would be helpful to readers to share how we found a better realtor, but honestly, I can't remember. However, I may never forget his face, because for the next two years, following our land purchase, we remained on his mailing list, and each envelope included another business card with his smiling portrait. We found the land we wanted. It was on an old, under-developed, dead-end street. It was quiet, but with plenty of activity. The architecture on the street was already widely varied: very small homes and large ones, some new, and most with the character of age. We met friendly people, it was near to the office, near to church, and the street had sidewalks and curbs.
Our realtor with the friendly photograph spent several months referring us to contractors and pressing us to finish our drawings. Despite his pressure, we knew we needed to press on. Our drawings had to be precise, so that our pricing would be fair. We standardized our dimensions - 4 foot and 8 foot increments, for efficiency of materials. We selected modern construction systems for simplicity of construction, for off-the-shelf accessibility, and for timely coordination. We were sure that these deliberate methods, along with detailed construction drawings, would allow any contractor to produce the home we wanted exactly, to give us a price we could both have confidence in without fear of change orders, and that that price would be lower than the market rate.
LESSON #2: Build where you want to live.
Of all the decisions we made in this process, I think we did this one right. This one goes to the nature of "home." A lot of people give a lot of reasons for buying a particular house. The most popular reasons are resale value, school systems, and safety. I won't deny the validity of these concerns, but I will say that they must take second place to concerns about living.
I didn't want to buy a house while thinking about selling it. I'm not an entrepreneur, not a developer or a realtor. Resale wasn't my goal. I wanted a place to grow my family, a sanctuary from the world, a home.
In our town, the school districts change every year. Demographics shift, politicians play their games, and bussing is unpredictable. There's no way to predict the status of the system when my children will be of age, it's my civil duty support whatever local system our family is in, and if we don't like it, private school is an option.
And safety - it's a myth. The way to improve crime statistics in any region is to support the law enforcement in those areas, to get to know your neighbors, and to live a better example. I'm over-simplifying several enormous social issues, but again, I didn't want to live paranoid, and I didn't want to live removed from true society.
Our neighborhood has the sidewalks and curbs we wanted. We enjoy walking the street. We're thankful to see so many kids playing so often. We have a park, a playground, and a grocery store a comfortable walking distance away. And, our son will grow up hearing no fewer than four different languages, meeting children of different races, with parents of different backgrounds and professions. It's the right way to live in the world, and I feel good about it.
Part 3: CONTRACTORS
We started meeting with contractors. The first meetings were in comfortable offices and restaurants. We met with our realtor's associates, we met with reputable professionals in our area, we met with friends of colleagues. They reviewed our floor plans, they didn't sit down. "$100 per square foot." It was like a contractor mantra. It was like they were unionized. It was like their finger was on the pulse of the market, and that market could be phenomenally quantified and averaged, in respect of materials and labor and all conceivable contingencies, and the universal answer was "$100 per square foot." Design didn't matter. Innovative materials and methods didn't matter. Standardized dimensions? That's just naïve. One contractor did have another way of pricing: it was a factor of the price of the land, the square footage of the footprint, and some engineered constant driven by market forces and mood. The more we tried to reason with this man, asking him to bill us for the materials and labor for the work, plus a reasonable overhead, the more we just got mad.
Finally, we called the phone number on a yard sign that we saw on a front lawn of a renovated home in a prominent neighborhood.
LESSON #3: Use real contracts.
We used A105-1993, “Standard Form of Agreement Between Owner and Contractor for a Small Project” from the American Institute of Architects. A standard contract can be customized to meet your project, and your specific needs. Much of the day-to-day agreements between you and your contractor will be simple, verbal, or scratched on notebook paper. However, having a real contract in place as a foundation will dramatically limit your liabilities and can help profoundly when the issues get tricky. Contact your local AIA chapter, or go to www.aia.org.
Part 4: THE BANK
Several of my angriest phone calls during this process were with the bank. They were doing their due diligence. With the sub-prime mortgage crisis now, it’s a good thing they did, but man did they give us a hard time.
10/30 Got a call from the bank's plans appraiser. "Your typical buyer is looking for:.." Apparently our house is not a typical house that a typical buyer would want to buy with the amount of money we're putting in. We don't have a coat closet and we don't have a palatial bathroom and so on. It's hard to build your own house. We'll see what happens next.
LESSON #4: Remember how much this is costing you.
Most of these lessons are related, but this is a big one. With all hope that your home is the investment you intend it to be, it will still cost you a lot of money. Your mortgage will very likely be the largest bill you pay every month, every month until you are a much older person.
I remind you of this because every time I make that mortgage payment, I am reminded of all the things around the house that the contractor didn't finish. I'm reminded of the places around the house, where the contractor used inferior products or methods that I will have to pay, again, to replace or have redone. My dad liked to say that you get what you pay for. Remember that you are paying a lot, and make sure you get what you need, in good materials and proven construction methods.
Part 5: PERMITS
Permits for most houses are . . . easy. If you read any municipality’s website, they require about 4 drawings, a site plot, and a couple hundred dollars. If you try to do something new, or anything prefabricated, it gets more complicated. In that case, you need engineers, with seals in your state. You’ll have to answer a lot of questions. We had a lot of engineers.
February and March Our builder called one day saying that our plot plan wasn't drawn just right. We made some changes and turned that in to the city. No progress, no progress - our plans got put back on the bottom of the pile. In early March, I went to the city myself and talked to a few friendly people. The plans were ready to pick up - with no permit,. They were marked up with several comments. Some were things on the plans that they missed, but most were comments that they needed seals for all the pre-fab parts . It took about three weeks to pull those together and three more engineers. This may be the most designers of record per square foot on the East coast.
LESSON #5: Trust your engineers.
As an architect, I have mixed feelings about the profession of engineering. I know that to my engineer friends, the feelings are mutual! Because of the multiple building systems we used on this house, we had a potpourri of engineers, just so we could get our plans through the city. Every time the house creaks and pops with a change in weather, I hope those engineers did their jobs.
The one engineer who really came through for us was our geotech. We had the soils tested many months before construction began. We had a sealed report about the bearing pressure of the soils, and that report became the basis for the foundation design.
On the first day of construction, the contractor called to say that the soils were no good, would have to be over-excavated, and wouldn’t we like to have a much larger basement anyway. When we notified our geotech, he immediately came out to the site, re-tested the soil, and restated his opinion that the soil was fine. He attended an ad hoc meeting with the contractor and our foundation engineer, and stated his opinion that the contractor should put the dirt back in the hole, and certainly should not charge for the work. He got us out of a lot of money, and gave us credibility that kept the contractor at bay when things got tough the next time.
Part 6: WAITING
Finding land can take an instant or years. Getting a loan can take weeks. Permits can take months. And contractors . . . contractors can take as long as they feel like taking, depending on the market. Be prepared to wait a lot.
4/10 No new news. Went out with some hugely supportive friends after work and had a good time. We drove by the lot on the way home and it was dark, but it looks like a good place for a house. We're wondering about when the crew will arrive and how many trucks will drive down our quiet little street over the next months.
LESSON #6: Hang on to your friends.
Every step of the way, you’ll be doubting yourself. And, you’ll have time to do it. You need your friends. You need them for reassurance, for listening ears to your ridiculous stories, for the voice of experience if you’re lucky, and you need them to remind you that you’re not in this adventure alone.
Part 7: CONSTRUCTION BEGINS
We ran to the site the first day we saw the crews arrive. The hole was dug in a day. The pre-fab concrete-stud foundation and basement panels came on a truck and were dropped in a place in a morning. The floor joists went on top of the basement panels, and then we waited.
7/1 Slab poured, sawcut. Wall panel sub says he'll be here before the end of July. Contractor says we'll have some slow weeks.
7/31 Wall panel sub says he'll be here next week.
8/15 Wall panel sub says he'll be here next week.
8/22 Wall panel sub says he'll be here next week without fail.
8/30 10:45pm Trucks fill street in front of our lot with panel blanks. Neighbors call the police because of the late-night disturbance.
LESSON #7: Watch your mouth.
After all the months of waiting for our turn in line, on the first day of construction, the day the digging began, I received a call at work from our contractor. He said, "The soil's no good. We have to dig out twice as much as we expected. It's going to cost $10,000 more. Is that okay?” Without thinking enough, and eager to get started, I said, "Yes." Those three letters haunted the rest of the job and the end result.
Also, it goes without saying that "a gentle answer turns away wrath." Your life savings are on the line, your contractor's work is called into question - your opinions will differ, but you'll be working together for several months at least. Keeping a careful reign on your tongue is critical for so many reasons.
LESSON #8 Don't feel sorry for the contractor. This is my worst regret.
Say "NO.": When he asks you for extra money for things that are already in the contract.
Say "NO.": When he tells you there's a problem that's going to change the whole job and he wants to do it without giving you time to think it through.
Say "NO.": When he tells you that that's the best he can do.
Say "NO.": When he wants to leave part unfinished because he has another job to get to.
Say "NO.": When he tells you his sub is going to be a few months later than expected.
Say "NO.": When he puts a window in a different place than the plans show and he wants to know if he can leave it because, "It doesn't really make a difference, does it?"
To be fair, when you make a change to the job, or when legitimate unforeseeable circumstances arise, make an agreement for a fair change in fee. And, be willing to accept reasonable delays, especially during busy or weather-prone building seasons. Your contract will help you understand what’s fair and what’s to be expected.
Part 8: MORE MONEY
The good news about construction money is that it’s cheap and easy to come by. You’ve already signed all the paperwork, and the bank is more than willing to do their part. A construction loan comes with very low interest, and for the first few draws, you don’t owe very much. The bad news is that you’re paying it out fast.
LESSON #9: Keep track of the costs yourself.
Tracking the allowances, draws, and change orders is critical. If your contractor is like ours, he may have little interest in actually tracking the financials himself, despite your expectations. Our contractor seemed to have some vague idea of a barter system. He continued to remind us that he took the cost of the "hole" on the chin, despite our explanation that it was his sub that was taking him for a ride, and he expected us to take the cost of the other issues as they came up. We maintained a spreadsheet of the agreed price, the allowances, the draws, and the change orders. This became our best resource in the ever-present money conversations. By the middle of the job, our contractor was asking us for copies of our spreadsheets.
Part 9: DOING IT YOURSELF
LESSON #10: Don't do it yourself.
Money is a constant point of decision - what do I want, what am I paying for, and what can I do myself for free? In order to save money, we thought, we opted to do most of the finishes by ourselves. Thus this lesson: Don’t Do It – keep your day job.
1) Paint - we had one bold work day with our best friends. We put on the primer coat. The whole house was whitewashed. We reached as far as we could into the highest points of the ceilings. We wore ourselves out, and realized we had yet to put on the color coats. For what seemed like a very reasonable sum, we hired the painter to finish the job. Since then, I've done some painting around the house and have learned that I'm not the artist I thought I could be - spots on the carpet, spots on the ceiling, wavy cut lines, and no one to blame.
2) Tile: When we worked on the house, it was winter, and we had no heat. Instead, we had a propane heater that looked, sounded, and smelled like an indoor jet engine. My wife did much of the hands-on tile work, I did the cutting. We chose some wonderful tile, which meant that it was extraordinarily hard to cut. My wife's hands were frozen and dried and cracked by mortar for weeks. And despite our noblest efforts, we could not deny the truth that we had never done this before, and we learned this was an art requiring some skill. The freezing conditions begat haste. I hate that we put ourselves through that ordeal, and the finished product leaves some to be desired.
3) Cabinets: This was something I just wanted to do. Perhaps the tile was like that for my wife. I wanted to try to build a part of my own house with my own hands, and I'm glad I did it. I built the cabinet boxes for our kitchen and around the house. They're quirky to say the least, but they're ours. We hired a cabinet shop to make the cherry doors - that was a good decision, to give us a good finish. And after months of “somedays,” we hired a woodworker to fix our drawers so that they actually worked. This has been a wonderful breakthrough, and another good decision. So, when I say I built our cabinets, I must clarify that I didn't build the parts that showed, and the functional parts I built didn't function the first time around. When you decide to do your own work, for whatever reason, it's important to at least know what you're getting into.
Part 10: HOME AT LAST
We’ll never forget our first night in our new house. It was surprisingly quiet after so many months of noisy construction. It was our home. We opened the window and heard the night sounds that are familiar now, but which we were discovering for the first time. Our home is the sanctuary we hoped for. It’s a perfect place to raise our son and future children. It came with memories the day we moved in, and plenty of reminders that nobody’s perfect. And, we learned a lot to pass on to the next generation of home builders.
© 2007 Andy Osterlund, AIA
Sunday, September 02, 2007
August's Baptism
Our boy was baptised today! For those who missed it, here's the testimony I gave:
Kristen and I were both raised in Christian homes. Our parents taught us the Bible and lived out their faith, and we were both brought to church consistently for worship and Sunday school. We’re very thankful for that gift from our parents, and we’re also thankful that our family could be here with us today, for August.
I believed in Jesus when I was very young. I remember praying in bed and thanking God for everything I could remember. As I got older, at several points, I remember having to take a stand for Jesus and committing to obey Him. One of those points was my own baptism, when I was about 13.
I learned to trust God more deeply, starting in college, when I was on my own, away from home, learning about school and schedules and bills, and God was faithful then.
Kristen and I met in college. The story is that I noticed that she had a Bible on her desk, and I asked her about it, and that’s how we met.
Since we’ve been married, we’ve learned to trust God together: learning about work and, again, about schedules and bills. We’ve seen him provide for our needs every year.
The most challenging times have been the past several years, hoping and praying for a family and wondering why it was taking so long. We’re now thankful to know that the time spent waiting was so that we would be all lined up to meet and receive August. We’ve seen God now answer, so sweetly, all those many prayers for him.
“August” is a family name – I wanted him to have a reminder that he’s connected to our family and to all the routes that God took to bring these immigrants together. However, at his adoption, we were also amazed to hear the verses that were read over him – many verses taken from the book of Jeremiah, which is his second name.
We heard Jeremiah 1:4:
The word of the LORD came to me, saying,
"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,
before you were born I set you apart;
I appointed you as a prophet to the nations."
Again, we’re learning to trust God about bottles and schedules and bills, August reminds us of God’s faithfulness. His first name reminds us of God’s providence, for generations, even to our own family, and his second name reminds us of the promises and hope God has for his future.
Kristen and I were both raised in Christian homes. Our parents taught us the Bible and lived out their faith, and we were both brought to church consistently for worship and Sunday school. We’re very thankful for that gift from our parents, and we’re also thankful that our family could be here with us today, for August.
I believed in Jesus when I was very young. I remember praying in bed and thanking God for everything I could remember. As I got older, at several points, I remember having to take a stand for Jesus and committing to obey Him. One of those points was my own baptism, when I was about 13.
I learned to trust God more deeply, starting in college, when I was on my own, away from home, learning about school and schedules and bills, and God was faithful then.
Kristen and I met in college. The story is that I noticed that she had a Bible on her desk, and I asked her about it, and that’s how we met.
Since we’ve been married, we’ve learned to trust God together: learning about work and, again, about schedules and bills. We’ve seen him provide for our needs every year.
The most challenging times have been the past several years, hoping and praying for a family and wondering why it was taking so long. We’re now thankful to know that the time spent waiting was so that we would be all lined up to meet and receive August. We’ve seen God now answer, so sweetly, all those many prayers for him.
“August” is a family name – I wanted him to have a reminder that he’s connected to our family and to all the routes that God took to bring these immigrants together. However, at his adoption, we were also amazed to hear the verses that were read over him – many verses taken from the book of Jeremiah, which is his second name.
We heard Jeremiah 1:4:
The word of the LORD came to me, saying,
"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,
before you were born I set you apart;
I appointed you as a prophet to the nations."
Again, we’re learning to trust God about bottles and schedules and bills, August reminds us of God’s faithfulness. His first name reminds us of God’s providence, for generations, even to our own family, and his second name reminds us of the promises and hope God has for his future.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
On the porch with a secret - writing exercise #2
Here's our second writing exercise of the day: "Imagine a character sitting on a front porch. Create a first person monologue in which the character reveals a secret about himself/herself that no one has ever known. Give us a sense of setting." We didn't have enough time to have more than one idea. Beware, I told you I was in a funky mood.
A Seat on the Porch
5/5/07
(c) Andy Osterlund, 2007
As a day for a seat on the porch, this isn’t a bad one. The air is clear and comfortable. The season’s too early for bugs. It’s quiet, most of the neighbors away or in their routines. It’s a surprise to be here, but surprises can be okay. It’s very quiet, and warm. It’s okay to rest, to sit and to “be.” We don’t take enough time to reflect, do we? Never enough time to sit on a porch on a quiet day and reflect, until sometimes you just have to sit.
I’ll have to finish up the lawn later, maybe when it’s cooler. Or, maybe we can hire a neighbor this time to finish up. Have to put the mower away then, maybe she’ll get a neighbor to do that too. I hate to put so much on her. She’ll have time. She’ll be okay too.
It’s funny what we fear, thinking about it now. We’re afraid of others so often, but perhaps not when we need to be. Remember last year, the plant closing, the fears we had then? The town is moving on, isn’t it now, new grocery stores and the book store there, and the Cappuccino Café. Some people have moved on, it’s okay to move on. New plant opening on the other side of the hill, that’ll be a good thing for some people. People thought I was the bad guy, but they didn’t really see what I went through, what we all went through in the office - same pressures as everyone else. Same pressures and fears. Everyone’s afraid, but you just have to make it work, make your decisions and move on.
Now, looking back, it’s easy to look at things and realize that it was a good thing. The town is going to be much better after this – much better after this. Look at us now, we’ve already got the Cappuccino Café – I hear other stores are coming into town, and that will bring new people to town. That will really bring this place around. It’ll be a good thing. People will see in time. It takes patience, but people will see this town turn around. And the plant, of course, it was just what we had to do. Times are changing, the products change. We have to adapt. It’s all cycles, and it’s really a good change. Looks like the plant will be opening again in a few months, and we’ll be able to start new. It’s always a good thing to start new – to take what you learned from the past, to remember those hard lessons and the choices you had to make and the sacrifices, but then you get to start new, and this town will be a better place for it.
And so much at home. She and I, we just had to go through this. We didn’t know what was going to happen, but we made it through and things are looking up. So much warmth. She was always supportive. She was always sympathetic. She always understood. Even when the reporters came and accused us of so many things, she understood. And now, things are looking up.
I’ve heard stories of feeling like this, wondered what it would be like, in some lonely, desperate way. I feel the warmth; of course my shirt is soaked, that’s uncomfortable. The pain is there, but it’s so deep, deeper than anything I’ve ever felt, there’s really nothing I can do about it. The ambulance should be on its way. My daughter made me buy this phone, “At least for emergencies,” she said, “And to call me!” She said, I remember that. The ambulance should be on its way. It can take a while to get around in this town. The paper’s had some articles about that recently, with all the violence. It’s just something we’re not used to, not completely prepared for. But, it just takes time. Like that snow we had a few years back, biggest ever – we weren’t prepared for it then, but now we’re more prepared. We just need to learn from these things, and it makes the town a better place. But, the ambulance should be here any minute. Actually, she should be here any minute too. I hope she doesn’t see me like this – it would be better, I think, if she didn’t. Maybe I should call the ambulance again, just to make sure they know I’m here and know how to find me. I don’t know what’s taking them so long. It would be good if she didn’t see me like this.
Remember last time she found me like this? Well, not exactly like this of course, but remember when I was working on the lawnmower, and I hadn’t tightened the, well, there’s no need to remember everything, but that was quite a day too. She must have yelled at me for an hour, remember? I mean, yelled! Other people don’t get to see her that way, that’s reserved just for me. We’ve been through a lot, she and me. I think this is the happiest we’ve ever been. We probably say that every year, and I think it’s true every time. This time it definitely is. So many things that we’ve waited for all these years, so many things coming true. The hardships? Sure, we’ve been through our share or more than our share, but I think we’re the happiest we’ve ever been. It’s just that things change, and sometimes you have to adapt, and you work through it again, and you’re better for it, every time.
Did I know the man in the car? Was he in the plant some time? It’s impossible to know everyone. I just couldn’t recognize him. Maybe if I thought about it harder for a while. I suppose I should try to remember his face. I just don’t know if I could recognize him if I saw his picture, maybe saw it in a company photo. It happened so fast. They always say that in the newspaper. Maybe he was there for barbeque that Saturday, but I just didn’t recognize him. Maybe I would recognize his voice, maybe he called, last week, was that the man who called last week? It could have been. It’s just hard to remember in different circumstances, and it’s hard to really be prepared for the unexpected – especially things like this. Nobody’s prepared for this. There was no way to know. Maybe someone knew, but, well, we got a lot of calls like that last week, and the week before. It’s just so hard to be prepared or to know what to expect, especially when you have so many people. It’s impossible to know everyone.
I hope we can still make the wedding next weekend. Shouldn’t be a problem. He’s a good man – not rich like I hoped, but he’s fine, and he’s smart. I love seeing her around him – she looks different, and I like that. Their new town will be fine too – she’ll have to adapt some, I think, it’ll be different for her, and it’ll be different for us, not having her here. But that’s the way of things, and really, we’ve never been happier. We couldn’t be happier for her. That’ll be a beautiful day, and I can’t wait. She’ll look so beautiful, I’m sure.
He’s fine and he’s smart. He has plans, and that’s good, and he got the job in the new town, so that’s fine. It’s just fear again, you just don’t know. And now, I can’t control everything anymore – they’re out of my hands, and I have to accept that. We hope and we’ve prayed for the best, and you just don’t always know what’s next.
(c) Andy Osterlund, 2007
A Seat on the Porch
5/5/07
(c) Andy Osterlund, 2007
As a day for a seat on the porch, this isn’t a bad one. The air is clear and comfortable. The season’s too early for bugs. It’s quiet, most of the neighbors away or in their routines. It’s a surprise to be here, but surprises can be okay. It’s very quiet, and warm. It’s okay to rest, to sit and to “be.” We don’t take enough time to reflect, do we? Never enough time to sit on a porch on a quiet day and reflect, until sometimes you just have to sit.
I’ll have to finish up the lawn later, maybe when it’s cooler. Or, maybe we can hire a neighbor this time to finish up. Have to put the mower away then, maybe she’ll get a neighbor to do that too. I hate to put so much on her. She’ll have time. She’ll be okay too.
It’s funny what we fear, thinking about it now. We’re afraid of others so often, but perhaps not when we need to be. Remember last year, the plant closing, the fears we had then? The town is moving on, isn’t it now, new grocery stores and the book store there, and the Cappuccino Café. Some people have moved on, it’s okay to move on. New plant opening on the other side of the hill, that’ll be a good thing for some people. People thought I was the bad guy, but they didn’t really see what I went through, what we all went through in the office - same pressures as everyone else. Same pressures and fears. Everyone’s afraid, but you just have to make it work, make your decisions and move on.
Now, looking back, it’s easy to look at things and realize that it was a good thing. The town is going to be much better after this – much better after this. Look at us now, we’ve already got the Cappuccino Café – I hear other stores are coming into town, and that will bring new people to town. That will really bring this place around. It’ll be a good thing. People will see in time. It takes patience, but people will see this town turn around. And the plant, of course, it was just what we had to do. Times are changing, the products change. We have to adapt. It’s all cycles, and it’s really a good change. Looks like the plant will be opening again in a few months, and we’ll be able to start new. It’s always a good thing to start new – to take what you learned from the past, to remember those hard lessons and the choices you had to make and the sacrifices, but then you get to start new, and this town will be a better place for it.
And so much at home. She and I, we just had to go through this. We didn’t know what was going to happen, but we made it through and things are looking up. So much warmth. She was always supportive. She was always sympathetic. She always understood. Even when the reporters came and accused us of so many things, she understood. And now, things are looking up.
I’ve heard stories of feeling like this, wondered what it would be like, in some lonely, desperate way. I feel the warmth; of course my shirt is soaked, that’s uncomfortable. The pain is there, but it’s so deep, deeper than anything I’ve ever felt, there’s really nothing I can do about it. The ambulance should be on its way. My daughter made me buy this phone, “At least for emergencies,” she said, “And to call me!” She said, I remember that. The ambulance should be on its way. It can take a while to get around in this town. The paper’s had some articles about that recently, with all the violence. It’s just something we’re not used to, not completely prepared for. But, it just takes time. Like that snow we had a few years back, biggest ever – we weren’t prepared for it then, but now we’re more prepared. We just need to learn from these things, and it makes the town a better place. But, the ambulance should be here any minute. Actually, she should be here any minute too. I hope she doesn’t see me like this – it would be better, I think, if she didn’t. Maybe I should call the ambulance again, just to make sure they know I’m here and know how to find me. I don’t know what’s taking them so long. It would be good if she didn’t see me like this.
Remember last time she found me like this? Well, not exactly like this of course, but remember when I was working on the lawnmower, and I hadn’t tightened the, well, there’s no need to remember everything, but that was quite a day too. She must have yelled at me for an hour, remember? I mean, yelled! Other people don’t get to see her that way, that’s reserved just for me. We’ve been through a lot, she and me. I think this is the happiest we’ve ever been. We probably say that every year, and I think it’s true every time. This time it definitely is. So many things that we’ve waited for all these years, so many things coming true. The hardships? Sure, we’ve been through our share or more than our share, but I think we’re the happiest we’ve ever been. It’s just that things change, and sometimes you have to adapt, and you work through it again, and you’re better for it, every time.
Did I know the man in the car? Was he in the plant some time? It’s impossible to know everyone. I just couldn’t recognize him. Maybe if I thought about it harder for a while. I suppose I should try to remember his face. I just don’t know if I could recognize him if I saw his picture, maybe saw it in a company photo. It happened so fast. They always say that in the newspaper. Maybe he was there for barbeque that Saturday, but I just didn’t recognize him. Maybe I would recognize his voice, maybe he called, last week, was that the man who called last week? It could have been. It’s just hard to remember in different circumstances, and it’s hard to really be prepared for the unexpected – especially things like this. Nobody’s prepared for this. There was no way to know. Maybe someone knew, but, well, we got a lot of calls like that last week, and the week before. It’s just so hard to be prepared or to know what to expect, especially when you have so many people. It’s impossible to know everyone.
I hope we can still make the wedding next weekend. Shouldn’t be a problem. He’s a good man – not rich like I hoped, but he’s fine, and he’s smart. I love seeing her around him – she looks different, and I like that. Their new town will be fine too – she’ll have to adapt some, I think, it’ll be different for her, and it’ll be different for us, not having her here. But that’s the way of things, and really, we’ve never been happier. We couldn’t be happier for her. That’ll be a beautiful day, and I can’t wait. She’ll look so beautiful, I’m sure.
He’s fine and he’s smart. He has plans, and that’s good, and he got the job in the new town, so that’s fine. It’s just fear again, you just don’t know. And now, I can’t control everything anymore – they’re out of my hands, and I have to accept that. We hope and we’ve prayed for the best, and you just don’t always know what’s next.
(c) Andy Osterlund, 2007
Ginger root - writing exercise #1
Our teacher handed out writing starters. She asked us to use similies and metaphors to describe it. I got a ginger root. I was in a little bit of a funk today, so my writing came out a little weird.
Ginger root
An object I would not have known premaritally.
An object I would not associate with the sweetness
Or the spiciness (a matter of measure), the drama of a sauce
Before my new wife brought it into our little apartment home from the
Grocery store. I wondered if she had gone to some new age shop,
Some retailer that sold crystals and herbs and bits or root and foreign dirt.
It’s skin like nothing. Its edges like brokenness. Textures of dirt, color of air and emptiness. Scent of an absorbent sponge.
This thing that sneaks into our grocery bags. This thing profoundly discovered now in the shelves with beans and leeks and once living vegetation.
- - -
It looks like it has a face. I can see eyes looking over my shoulder, to the corner of the room.
A horn, or a bad wart, or a millionaire’s parted hair.
Knowing the smells when caught with a knife. Afraid to bring a knife into the memory of this thing and the first days with my wife the gourmet chef.
Dirt like a bruise, like a tear, like an eye open too long without enough sleep.
An object I would not have known premaritally.
An object I would not associate with the sweetness
Or the spiciness (a matter of measure), the drama of a sauce
Before my new wife brought it into our little apartment home from the
Grocery store. I wondered if she had gone to some new age shop,
Some retailer that sold crystals and herbs and bits or root and foreign dirt.
It’s skin like nothing. Its edges like brokenness. Textures of dirt, color of air and emptiness. Scent of an absorbent sponge.
This thing that sneaks into our grocery bags. This thing profoundly discovered now in the shelves with beans and leeks and once living vegetation.
- - -
It looks like it has a face. I can see eyes looking over my shoulder, to the corner of the room.
A horn, or a bad wart, or a millionaire’s parted hair.
Knowing the smells when caught with a knife. Afraid to bring a knife into the memory of this thing and the first days with my wife the gourmet chef.
Dirt like a bruise, like a tear, like an eye open too long without enough sleep.
Writers' Workshop Day
Spent much of the day in a writers' workshop today at church . It was interesting and helpful. The best part was the writing exercises, and hearing other people's writing. The writing today had an openness and authenticity that's been rare in our church's arts conversations so far.
However, again, I was left with the question of "what do I do with this thing, now that I've made it?" What good is a collection of short stories or poems sitting on my own hard drive or in my own notebooks? As always, we were encouraged to refine our work, to expand upon today's exercises. But, again, I'm left in this lonely question of "why?"
The habitual writer will say, "I can't NOT write." And that's true for me. Writing is like exhaling, like blinking, like leaving the artifact of a footprint in a forest. It can't be helped, so we should do it well. But my habits aren't that disciplined.
The casual writer will say, "I enjoy writing." And, I do. But I enjoy a lot of things. I enjoy TV. I'm easily entertained. That's not a good enough reason for much.
The prophetic writer will say, "I must write for others." And I want others to know and feel what I do. But, I'm shy.
Yes, writing should be shared. And writing shouldn't exist to be sold. And that's why I blog - blog into the depths of anonymity, into the sea of other bloggers sharing their wares, hoping for the random possibility of forming community.
But that's also why I go to writing conferences - a community for a weekend. That, and I'm always hoping to be discovered.
However, again, I was left with the question of "what do I do with this thing, now that I've made it?" What good is a collection of short stories or poems sitting on my own hard drive or in my own notebooks? As always, we were encouraged to refine our work, to expand upon today's exercises. But, again, I'm left in this lonely question of "why?"
The habitual writer will say, "I can't NOT write." And that's true for me. Writing is like exhaling, like blinking, like leaving the artifact of a footprint in a forest. It can't be helped, so we should do it well. But my habits aren't that disciplined.
The casual writer will say, "I enjoy writing." And, I do. But I enjoy a lot of things. I enjoy TV. I'm easily entertained. That's not a good enough reason for much.
The prophetic writer will say, "I must write for others." And I want others to know and feel what I do. But, I'm shy.
Yes, writing should be shared. And writing shouldn't exist to be sold. And that's why I blog - blog into the depths of anonymity, into the sea of other bloggers sharing their wares, hoping for the random possibility of forming community.
But that's also why I go to writing conferences - a community for a weekend. That, and I'm always hoping to be discovered.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Poems and Places
Have a speach again this week - I have to read a poem to the group. It's been a lot of fun browsing through anthologies, trying to find a theme or something to connect with. I was surprised (it's been a while since I've really dug into poetry) to remember how heavy most of it is! (Maybe it's just the anthologies on my shelves.) But, with this Valentine's week et al, I was expecting to find a few happy, beautiful bits that would be easy to read and make us all feel warm.
Going through the Romantics, found all this extremely heavy work like "Ozymandius" and "Ode on a Grecian Urn" - references to Greek gods and this insanely complex sentence structure. I thought Shakespeare's sonnets would be sweet, but, (and maybe I'm not as smart as I used to be, or maybe I'm just more honest), I just wasn't sure what he was saying! If the woman was wooed by the first lines, I think she would be confused by the end, which probably was Shakespeare's intention.
And then, the modern poetry, so much is either 1) morbid eg about death and suicide and black things, or 2) ironic and cynical and hopeless, or 3) nonsense and meaningless, or 4) just kind of dry, or 4) bizarrely exagerated. What happened to all the pretty poetry?
I think I really was looking for something as beautiful as Song of Songs. I've been reading Psalms for a while, but that's heavy too. Song of Songs is just glorious and lovely. It was edifying to have that experience too, to know that besides being Truth, the Bible includes the most beautiful text I could find on my shelf.
But, without further ado - here's my first draft of the 8 minute speech for Wednesday:
What a privilege to get to read poetry to this group! I’ll be reading four short poems about places. I enjoy thinking about spaces and really experiencing where I am. These are poems about experiencing where you are.
The first is the most abstract. This is by EE Cummings, written from the perspective of a man sitting in a booth in a busy bar in New York. You can hear the sounds of the bar around him, the bits of conversations, and you get to feel some of his experience as he sits in that room.
The second is by Carl Sandberg about being on Clark Street Bridge in Chicago at night.
The third is by my friend Steve West, written during a business trip to Milwaukee. It’s directed to Solomon Juneau, the founder of the city. You can see him walk down the street, encountering people as he passes the street signs.
Finally, a short piece by me. For a while on Sundays, my wife had to get to church earlier than I did, so I would sit in front of this baseball field in Cary in my car and think and write. This is one episode from that series.
Here goes . . .
[i was sitting in mcsorley’s]
E. E. Cummings
1925
i was sitting in mcsorley's. outside it was New York and beautifully snowing.
Inside snug and evil. the slobbering walls filthily push witless creases of screaming warmth chuck pillows are noise funnily swallows swallowing revolvingly pompous a the swallowed mottle with smooth or a but of rapidly goes gobs the and of flecks of and a chatter sobbings intersect with which distinct disks of graceful oath, upsoarings the break on ceiling-flatness
the Bar.tinking luscious jigs dint of ripe silver with warm-lyish wetflat splurging smells waltz the glush of squirting taps plus slush of foam knocked off and a faint piddle-of-drops she says I ploc spittle what the lands thaz me kid in no sir hopping sawdust you kiddo
he's a palping wreaths of badly Yep cigars who jim him why gluey grins topple together eyes pout gestures stickily point made glints squinting who's a wink bum-nothing and money fuzzily mouths take big wobbly foot
steps every goggle cent of it get out ears dribbles soft right old feller belch the chap hic summore eh chuckles skulch. . . .
and I was sitting in the din thinking drinking the ale, which never lets you grow old blinking at the low ceiling my being pleasantly was punctuated by the always retchings of a worthless lamp.
when With a minute terrif iceffort one dirty squeal of soiling light yanKing from bushy obscurity a bald greenish foetal head established It suddenly upon the huge neck around whose unwashed sonorous muscle the filth of a collar hung gently.
(spattered)by this instant of semiluminous nausea A vast wordless nondescript genie of trunk trickled firmly in to one exactly-mutilated ghost of a chair,
a;domeshaped interval of complete plasticity,shoulders, sprouted the extraordinary arms through an angle of ridiculous velocity commenting upon an unclean table.and, whose distended immense Both paws slowly loved a dinted mug
gone Darkness it was so near to me,i ask of shadow won't you have a drink?
(the eternal perpetual question)
Inside snugandevil. i was sitting in mcsorley's It,did not answer.
outside.(it was New York and beautifully, snowing. . . .
CLARK STREET BRIDGE
Carl Sandberg
1916
DUST of the feet
And dust of the wheels,
Wagons and people going,
All day feet and wheels.
Now. . .
. . Only stars and mist
A lonely policeman,
Two cabaret dancers,
Stars and mist again,
No more feet or wheels,
No more dust and wagons.
Voices of dollars
And drops of blood
. . . . .
Voices of broken hearts,
. . Voices singing, singing,
. . Silver voices, singing,
Softer than the stars,
Softer than the mist.
Poem-Walk
Steve West
c. 2000
Listen to me, Solomon Juneau.
I am on a mission from God.
I am an extra-terrestial,
a wide-eyed wanderer
on this
terrestrial ball.
See me there? Here comes
santa claus looking worn &
frail, an overdressed rabble of a
man, bearded, half-blind, under-
nourished, with a sack of treasure
on his back.
Yes, I just touched down, Soloman Juneau,
on this blue end of Milwaukee, only
visiting this planet. Call it
Terra firma. Earth.
I’m walking on the solid
flesh and dirt of life.
Lapham. Becher. Waukesha.
I dodge the word puddles, the
splash of image, tripping over
profundities and wonders.
Can you hear it Soloman Juneau?
Can you hear the hip hop bop, the
music of the poet thinking?
Van Buren. Marquette. Grand Avenue.
A black man peers from
behind a dirty screen.
(Hear the silence speaking?)
A woman sunbaths, workers
lounge, winos loll.
(Can you feel the wonder?)
In the Cafe Leon a
woman sips, motions, shrugs,
dismisses, her upturned laugh
rippling through the air.
The air is pompous-smelling,
magenta in all its hipness, the
people poised and sheek.
I am the meek and minding.
I eat.
I listen.
I spy.
In the cafe, on the street,
I gather the pearls of conversation,
laughing at my wealth.
I am king for the moment,
resplendent in my humaness,
carrying my sackful of words,
my rattles and my rhymnes.
I am accused of metaphoric dementia ---
diagnosis: too human, naked, unashamed
prognosis: animal skins and fig leaves
Are you watching, Soloman Juneau?
See me spill my words?
Watch me unwrap these packages.
I’ll fashion up some truth.
I am an extra-terrestrial ---
word-full
wacked-out &
wondered. A
meteoric, metaphoric, poet.
Don’t you know it?
Really, only human, Soloman Juneau.
An Empty Ballfied on a Sunday Morning
Andy Osterlund
2005
An empty ballfield on a Sunday morning
A rabbit and a squirrel and a scoreboard unlit
A fly comes through my open windows screaming a buzz
Boundaries and fences; markers and out of bounds
Jet overhead; brush underneath; and me in between
Electrical boxes waiting for a night game.
Coming to the limits of inspiration and provocation
Coming to the limits of what can be derived from a scene
But the creatures keep stirring and the sun is interrupted by the trees.
Going through the Romantics, found all this extremely heavy work like "Ozymandius" and "Ode on a Grecian Urn" - references to Greek gods and this insanely complex sentence structure. I thought Shakespeare's sonnets would be sweet, but, (and maybe I'm not as smart as I used to be, or maybe I'm just more honest), I just wasn't sure what he was saying! If the woman was wooed by the first lines, I think she would be confused by the end, which probably was Shakespeare's intention.
And then, the modern poetry, so much is either 1) morbid eg about death and suicide and black things, or 2) ironic and cynical and hopeless, or 3) nonsense and meaningless, or 4) just kind of dry, or 4) bizarrely exagerated. What happened to all the pretty poetry?
I think I really was looking for something as beautiful as Song of Songs. I've been reading Psalms for a while, but that's heavy too. Song of Songs is just glorious and lovely. It was edifying to have that experience too, to know that besides being Truth, the Bible includes the most beautiful text I could find on my shelf.
But, without further ado - here's my first draft of the 8 minute speech for Wednesday:
What a privilege to get to read poetry to this group! I’ll be reading four short poems about places. I enjoy thinking about spaces and really experiencing where I am. These are poems about experiencing where you are.
The first is the most abstract. This is by EE Cummings, written from the perspective of a man sitting in a booth in a busy bar in New York. You can hear the sounds of the bar around him, the bits of conversations, and you get to feel some of his experience as he sits in that room.
The second is by Carl Sandberg about being on Clark Street Bridge in Chicago at night.
The third is by my friend Steve West, written during a business trip to Milwaukee. It’s directed to Solomon Juneau, the founder of the city. You can see him walk down the street, encountering people as he passes the street signs.
Finally, a short piece by me. For a while on Sundays, my wife had to get to church earlier than I did, so I would sit in front of this baseball field in Cary in my car and think and write. This is one episode from that series.
Here goes . . .
[i was sitting in mcsorley’s]
E. E. Cummings
1925
i was sitting in mcsorley's. outside it was New York and beautifully snowing.
Inside snug and evil. the slobbering walls filthily push witless creases of screaming warmth chuck pillows are noise funnily swallows swallowing revolvingly pompous a the swallowed mottle with smooth or a but of rapidly goes gobs the and of flecks of and a chatter sobbings intersect with which distinct disks of graceful oath, upsoarings the break on ceiling-flatness
the Bar.tinking luscious jigs dint of ripe silver with warm-lyish wetflat splurging smells waltz the glush of squirting taps plus slush of foam knocked off and a faint piddle-of-drops she says I ploc spittle what the lands thaz me kid in no sir hopping sawdust you kiddo
he's a palping wreaths of badly Yep cigars who jim him why gluey grins topple together eyes pout gestures stickily point made glints squinting who's a wink bum-nothing and money fuzzily mouths take big wobbly foot
steps every goggle cent of it get out ears dribbles soft right old feller belch the chap hic summore eh chuckles skulch. . . .
and I was sitting in the din thinking drinking the ale, which never lets you grow old blinking at the low ceiling my being pleasantly was punctuated by the always retchings of a worthless lamp.
when With a minute terrif iceffort one dirty squeal of soiling light yanKing from bushy obscurity a bald greenish foetal head established It suddenly upon the huge neck around whose unwashed sonorous muscle the filth of a collar hung gently.
(spattered)by this instant of semiluminous nausea A vast wordless nondescript genie of trunk trickled firmly in to one exactly-mutilated ghost of a chair,
a;domeshaped interval of complete plasticity,shoulders, sprouted the extraordinary arms through an angle of ridiculous velocity commenting upon an unclean table.and, whose distended immense Both paws slowly loved a dinted mug
gone Darkness it was so near to me,i ask of shadow won't you have a drink?
(the eternal perpetual question)
Inside snugandevil. i was sitting in mcsorley's It,did not answer.
outside.(it was New York and beautifully, snowing. . . .
CLARK STREET BRIDGE
Carl Sandberg
1916
DUST of the feet
And dust of the wheels,
Wagons and people going,
All day feet and wheels.
Now. . .
. . Only stars and mist
A lonely policeman,
Two cabaret dancers,
Stars and mist again,
No more feet or wheels,
No more dust and wagons.
Voices of dollars
And drops of blood
. . . . .
Voices of broken hearts,
. . Voices singing, singing,
. . Silver voices, singing,
Softer than the stars,
Softer than the mist.
Poem-Walk
Steve West
c. 2000
Listen to me, Solomon Juneau.
I am on a mission from God.
I am an extra-terrestial,
a wide-eyed wanderer
on this
terrestrial ball.
See me there? Here comes
santa claus looking worn &
frail, an overdressed rabble of a
man, bearded, half-blind, under-
nourished, with a sack of treasure
on his back.
Yes, I just touched down, Soloman Juneau,
on this blue end of Milwaukee, only
visiting this planet. Call it
Terra firma. Earth.
I’m walking on the solid
flesh and dirt of life.
Lapham. Becher. Waukesha.
I dodge the word puddles, the
splash of image, tripping over
profundities and wonders.
Can you hear it Soloman Juneau?
Can you hear the hip hop bop, the
music of the poet thinking?
Van Buren. Marquette. Grand Avenue.
A black man peers from
behind a dirty screen.
(Hear the silence speaking?)
A woman sunbaths, workers
lounge, winos loll.
(Can you feel the wonder?)
In the Cafe Leon a
woman sips, motions, shrugs,
dismisses, her upturned laugh
rippling through the air.
The air is pompous-smelling,
magenta in all its hipness, the
people poised and sheek.
I am the meek and minding.
I eat.
I listen.
I spy.
In the cafe, on the street,
I gather the pearls of conversation,
laughing at my wealth.
I am king for the moment,
resplendent in my humaness,
carrying my sackful of words,
my rattles and my rhymnes.
I am accused of metaphoric dementia ---
diagnosis: too human, naked, unashamed
prognosis: animal skins and fig leaves
Are you watching, Soloman Juneau?
See me spill my words?
Watch me unwrap these packages.
I’ll fashion up some truth.
I am an extra-terrestrial ---
word-full
wacked-out &
wondered. A
meteoric, metaphoric, poet.
Don’t you know it?
Really, only human, Soloman Juneau.
An Empty Ballfied on a Sunday Morning
Andy Osterlund
2005
An empty ballfield on a Sunday morning
A rabbit and a squirrel and a scoreboard unlit
A fly comes through my open windows screaming a buzz
Boundaries and fences; markers and out of bounds
Jet overhead; brush underneath; and me in between
Electrical boxes waiting for a night game.
Coming to the limits of inspiration and provocation
Coming to the limits of what can be derived from a scene
But the creatures keep stirring and the sun is interrupted by the trees.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Reading Man
It's been a record month or so for me, book-wise:
- Finished Calvino's "If on a winter's night a traveler".
- Started and finished Foer's "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close".
- Saturdays at the gym on the recumbant stationary bike.
- Joining a newly formed book club with a deadline (Foer's book, March 30.)
- Reading a best-selling novel by a still-living author in its original language (again, Foer's book.)
But now what?
- Shall I return to Doestoyevsky? Has my new success renewed enough reading confidence, or should I pin a couple more titles to my chest first? But, is it really fair to start another book with this one still half-read? Cons: possibly too heavy for the recumbant stationary bike, 19th century russian author.
- Shall I return to my college pattern of faith, architecture, fiction, culture, repeat? Is "culture" next or should I start back over with "faith" because I've been out of the cycle so long? Cons: what if my reading streak doesn't last?
- And what about the novel I just bought because the movie it spawned looks so interesting? Is that too much fiction for two months time? What about my existentialist ideals? What if I just went to the movie instead?
- Or the coffee table book I got for Christmas? Cons: definitely too heavy for the gym.
- Or the "faith" book that everyone I know has read and likes. Cons: when was the last time I liked something that everyone else liked?
It's either the "movie" book or the popular "faith" book, or the coffee table "architecture" book with another book on the side.
Monday, January 01, 2007
Dillon Triptych
I’m going through my photos this afternoon, and I found this one that I like. It’s of Dillon Supply, downtown Raleigh. It’s shot on 120 fujichrome film with a Holga. The Holga is a Chinese plastic camera with a plastic lens – you never quite know where the film is, so sometimes the shots bleed into each other, and you never quite know what the lens is going to do when the sun comes through it. I like the way the east and west views bleed into each other, I like the urbanity of course, I like the textures and materials. I like the new-city icons in the background of the old. I’ve shot these buildings each many times, but they seem to make more sense as a contextual triptych here than they do individually. That’s significant, I think.
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