The clomping of work boots is the sound that wakes me. It is coming from just outside my second-floor bedroom window. As I tear away the dreamy haze of the beautifully finished home, the polished furniture, and the manicured lawn, the dream gives way to the reality; the workers are here on the scaffolding outside my bedroom window, and there are no curtains. As I wrap myself in my blankets, grab my sweats and shuffle off into the bathroom, the voices outside remind me there are no curtains here either; the scaffolding wraps around the entire sides and rear of the house. I retreat into the bathtub, drawing the shower curtain behind me for privacy in order to get dressed, cursing myself for having overslept.
On my way out of the bedroom, I greet the plaster crew headed up the hallway toward the front bedroom, bags of plaster over their shoulders. As I duck under the scaffolding on the staircase, the inside painters are just setting up in the music room, and the squeak, screech, and muffled crinkle of platforms rolling over papered floors covered in canvas, is suddenly replaced by lively Latin music. This competes with the talk radio playing across the hall, letting me know that the faux-grainers are here, working on the woodwork in the parlors, a day earlier than I had anticipated them.
The powerful diesel engine of the hydraulic telescoping boom lift in the front yard roars to life, followed by the piercing insistent chirp announcing reverse gear, moving it into place for access to the higher-up decorative elements. A carpenter, a mason, or possibly a painter would likely be working on the platform today.
The kitchen is strewn with random house parts; door knobs, window latches, switch plate covers and the like, drawings, tools, and random bits of paper. Curiously, there is a sofa in the kitchen which wasn’t there last night. I search the freezer only to remember that I ran out of coffee beans the last time we were here. No matter; I dig through the cabinets and find a tin of Turkish Coffee powder. I did not expect the sugar bowl to be empty, however, but I spy a half-eaten block of fudge on the counter, chop off a chunk and throw it in with the now-boiling Turkish coffee on the stove. As I hold the steaming mug in my hands, surveying the mess of my kitchen, I listen to the chatter of the drywall crew working in the newly-framed mother-in-law suite across the sunroom and wonder how much I will be able to accomplish today.
I’ve set my sights on the tile room in the basement. Technically, it is the boiler room, but it serves a dual purpose. Every square foot not required for the boilers, or for access to the boilers, has been piled three feet high in places with a disorganized jumble of boxes of excess marble and tile accumulated over the course of many years. Here lies the extra marble and travertine we cut for use in bathrooms we already installed. You can find various colors of new 1’x1′ marble in boxes waiting to be cut for future designs; 16″x16″ travertine we bought on sale; long Carrera thresholds both wide and narrow; sheets of marble mosaics. There are boxes upon boxes of antique red glazed tile, and no matter how many times I look at these boxes, I cannot recall where we got it all, and am unable to bring forth any recollection of what we had planned to do with it all. That red tile remains a mystery to me even still. The icing on the cake, however, is the dozens of milk crates full of random colors and shapes of antique encaustic tiles pulled from the floor of a burned-out church in New Jersey. That is the true vein of treasure in this large deposit of marble and tile.
Adding to this chaos, the electricians, plumbers, carpenters, and steam boiler guys have, in their own time, each taken a messy stab at the plaster ceiling above for access to various systems in the house. The holes in the ceiling correspond to large pieces of debris, a grimy granular sandy layer coating everything, and a fine layering of dust over everything. My job is to create order out of this chaos.
I start with a moment of silence to give thanks to Costco for providing us with reasonably-priced heavy-duty metal shelving units, and begin by assembling the first few shelving units to be stacked. After that, it’s a matter of sorting, vacuuming, and organizing. The weight of the boxes is somewhat of an issue, but my legs are strong enough to do what my arms cannot, and my lower body is able to handle the brunt of the lifting; the inevitable bruises on my thighs will fade with time. With the help of a crowbar, I can easily move things around on the shelves once they are placed there, which works well enough until the unfortunate incident whereupon I forget where I lodged the crowbar, and ended up walking right into the damned thing, leaving me with a nice gash on my forehead and a black eye. Aaaaah the joys of renovation!
Periodically I would take a break to investigate what the other crews were accomplishing. The roofers, the masons, the outside painters…
The house is a beehive of activity. The copper has been installed in all of the hidden gutters, and the roofing crew is tackling the valleys, flashing, and other areas in need of repair. The satisfaction of seeing the yards and yards of brand-new gleaming copper is severely dampened by the last notice from the State Department of Historic Resources a few days ago, where they have revoked their verbal approval for the copper, and want us to install Terne instead. No matter that historic Terne, a material made from tin and lead, is no longer manufactured. A new material made of tin and zinc is available, but must be painted regularly to maintain its maximum lifespan. A lifespan significantly less than the maintenance-free copper we have just paid to have installed. Aaaaah, great, another appeal to write. We have an excellent counter-argument for keeping the copper, however, as there is evidence that there once was copper in the hidden gutters. The remains were found tucked beneath the roof slates when the last few layers of slate were removed, so I predict that this will be an easy argument to win. Besides, it’s so pretty…
Meanwhile, we await a call from an auction house on an interesting piece of iron up for auction that weekend. Anyone who has read this blog previously knows of my iron deficiency — if it is old, rusty, heavy, and needs a forklift to move it, it will probably be something I will absolutely have to have! This piece was a bit more manageable; an applied arts piece. Applied Arts is that category of art that is created not just for beauty’s sake, but for the purpose of making some useful thing into something beautiful. The term is often used to describe decorative house parts, such as exterior decorative terra-cotta pieces, stained glass windows, figural newel post lamps and the like. This auction item was for an 1880s cast-iron fireback.
A fireback is a thick cast-iron sheet placed inside the firebox between the fire and the brick. It not only helps to prevent excessive wear of the bricks, but also serves to throw the heat of the fire back into the room. They can be a simple single piece, or a more elaborate three-piece ensemble, such as the ones which were already found in the house…
This piece was done by Elihu Vedder, an artist in his own right, who produced beautiful murals, mosaics, as well as oils on canvas. If you have ever been to the Library of Congress, you are sure to have seen some of his work there. He did some commissions for Louis Comfort Tiffany as well. This piece was a fireback entitled “The Sun God.” This one was a masterpiece! A powerful male figure inside the bursting rays of the sun, his long hair feathered out around his head, entwining the physical rays of light, clouds ballooning out from the center, and flowers bursting into bloom in the periphery. This example retained its coppery coated finish as well. It was in excellent condition. We used our resources to find out what the last few examples had sold for, and quickly realized we would be on the phone for this piece merely as a point of curiosity, as we would not be able to afford it for sure.
For years we have prowled the hallways of the Portrait Gallery, and have been privileged to view some of the most beautiful art in Washington, D.C. It was there that we first were introduced to Elihu Vedder, both through his art, as well as the beautiful fireback on display immediately adjacent to the John LaFarge Stained Glass Peacock windows. It is a favorite alcove to sit in and admire the colors, the light, and the ar
A painting by Vedder hangs in an adjacent gallery; The Cup of Death…
These pieces just happen to be in the museum that just happens to house one of my favorite paintings, a painting of wild roses by Abbott Henderson Thayer. Thayer is best known for his angelic paintings of his children, so this piece is certainly not typical of his work, but I love it for the unassuming simple wild flowers, just barely beyond their peak, the simple earthenware vase, the thick strokes of a pallet knife, the thin layer of paint over the entire piece. It is not overworked, it does not have a grand subject matter, it is quiet and unassuming; completely unpretentious. The signature is scratched into the wet paint with the butt end of a paintbrush, and the frame merely suggests a pattern. I just love this piece! Anyway, back to Elihu Vedder…
Just down the road a piece, at the Library of Congress, a substantial mosaic of Minerva sits in a prominent alcove, a popular piece to have one’s picture taken in front of. This mosaic was designed and executed by Elihu Vedder. This photo of Tom standing in front of that mosaic was taken in 2009, proof that his choice of clothing has not changed in the least over the last five years. Come to think of it, even the last ten years haven’t changed him a bit.
When the call from the auction house came, I was elbow deep in dust and debris, and had completely lost track of the time. Tom came down to the basement to give me the news…the fireback had indeed sold at the auction. He had been on the phone to witness the bidding. I love how he tries to put me on, and he insisted that he had bought the piece. I had a good laugh at his jest, and he laughed along with me, amusement dancing in his eyes. As I turned to complete my dirty task, he repeated that indeed he had purchased the fireback for me. I started to laugh again, but realized he was serious. We had not even entertained the idea of getting the piece, so I was confused, cautious that he was trapping me into believing something ridiculous so he could poke fun at my naivety. When he stated the price, I knew he was putting me on, the amount was only a tenth of what the last two examples had sold for. He shrugged his shoulders, and I followed him up the basement stairs, curious. Quickly checking the auction house website for the results I confirmed his story, and we celebrated with a break from our work and a nice dark craft beer, laughing out loud at our ridiculous good fortune.
The delight of having purchased a beautiful piece of old iron roused me, and gave me energy for throwing myself into the tile organization. By the end of the weekend I had managed to finish organizing all of the antique encaustic tiles from the New Jersey Church, and setting all of the milk crates on shelving. Next I was to begin tackling the remainder of the random boxes of marble and tile, bags and boxes of grout, and miscellaneous bottles of chemicals, cleaners, and sealers. In the end, it was satisfying to see the finished product — the ability to see what we had in stock, and to easily find what we needed.
In the end, I emerged dusty, sweaty, and exhausted, but the weekend was ultimately productive. My favorite moment, however, was while vacuuming a hard-to-reach corner. Chunks of something kept getting lodged in the shop-vac hose, so I reached my arm in to scoop out the debris rather than vacuum it. After the third or fourth fistful of this crumbling friable material, I happened to look at it more closely…Asbestos? Good lord, I hope not! We had the asbestos professionally removed, but I still have nightmares that a random piece will find its way to me…Lovely. Time to find my face mask! Aaaah, nothing like the glamour of renovating an old house!
Onward, to the tool room! The acoustic ceiling tiles had been removed for easier access to the newly framed mother-in-law suite, above. The plumbers, electricians, and carpenters had done their jobs, and the debris from above no longer rained down upon the tools, as the flooring above had now been installed. It was time to clean up the debris and organize the tools for easier access.
I am slightly optimistic that this room will remain clean for at least 24 hours. Beyond that time frame, my optimism fades significantly.
In the meantime, I’m checking up on Tom to see what he is working on. What design ideas has the “straight guy with the queer eye” come up with this weekend?
I see many stain samples on the floors in the dining room, music room and master bedroom, as the choices for colors on the floor are just as important as the colors on the trim and the walls.
I find my artistic genius in the music room contemplating ceiling colors, playing off the fabric that will eventually adorn the walls and the colors in the trim. Picking colors is a tough job, but someone has to do it…
In addition, there are mortar colors to choose from…to best match the historic mortar that was used to build the house…
There is also the difficult task of having to coordinate paint colors to match an historic Brussels carpet that will be installed in the front bedroom upstairs. Interestingly, this carpet was originally in the Wilcox-Parker mansion in Meriden, Connecticut, installed in the 1870s. From there, it was pulled up and saved, and placed in the living room of a 1960s New England Salt Box home on the shore in Connecticut. This will be the third home for this survivor from the 1870s when it is finally installed.
Back to work for me, though…All of the removed trim and random pieces of moldings were piled high in the basement. By organizing the jumble, I was able to match like-pieces together and find a stock of “old house parts” that perfectly matched my home, hopefully minimizing the need to have new stock run as we completed the renovations. In the jumble I found two brand-new door astragals. We had had the first one manufactured to the specifications of the double door to the restored second (smaller) front porch. It got lost by the time we had found a competent carpenter, so we had a second one manufactured. In the meantime, that carpenter had left us, and we now had the current crews ready to go to install it. Unable to find either astragal, we had ordered a third one to be made. It was satisfying to be able to make that phone call to cancel the order for yet a third astragal.
In the end, I had contributed further to the expanding mass inside the dumpster outside, and had an organized and manageable stock of tile and moldings, and an uncluttered room for the power tools ready for use. It was a very satisfying feeling to be able to see my progress, and to find the basement looking more organized. Even more exciting, I couldn’t wait to see my new fireback.
However battered and bruised I am, and sore from all of the heavy lifting, I can’t seem to wonder how it is that nature denied me a color sense, and gave me a strong desire for organization instead. I am glad that my life partner has the ability to see colors in a way that I am unable, but at times I wonder what life would be like with a little paint brush in my hand, clean clothes, hours of contemplation, and the occasional trip up a ladder…
Of course anyone who has seen the project knows that I truly have the better end of this bargain! Onward!
Carla Minosh
While I am new to Blogging, I have always enjoyed sharing the stories of my crazy life, so this is simply another medium to share, and hopefully entertain and enrich others. Perhaps you can feel thankful that your life is so steady and predictable after reading these, perhaps you can appreciate the insanity and wish you had more of it in your life. Either way, the crazy tales are all true (to the best of my spotty recollection) and simply tell the tale of a life full of exploration, enthusiasm, curiosity and hard work. I hope you all enjoy being a part of the journey.
Dear Carla I am researching a magnificent pair of Renaissance style grotesquely carved doors possibly by Luigi Frullini here in the U.K. – please contact me at david.j.bridgwateratbtinternet.com and I will send you photographs. Excellent blog by the way!
It seems that you and Tom are an ideal match in many ways.
I am quite envious! I am restoring an 1894 house all by myself. I often think: this would be much easier/fun with a great partner.
Anyway, I am so happy for you crazy kids!
I have just stumbled across your blog … how wonderful … I live in Australia and was looking for a second hand vestibule door and a picture of your house came up in the results (the one with the circle around where the servants entrance was … and I was intrigued from the start and have just read this first part … how amazing ! What fantastic custodians of heritage you both are. Thank you for sharing your story and photos. Dawn
Envy is a cardinal sin. You have made me a sinner. I know you will be forgiven. Now let's move on to lust. Congratulations and thank you. We do our best work with mud here in this arguably oldest (1603) Spanish settlement in North America, Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA.