Construction has begun and the building has now been framed.

 Working out the design has been great fun for our office. Some of our "Fun Fridays" have been spent drinking beer and trying to sketch how the space should work. Here are some of our goals:

• Create an efficient and open layout, exposing the "bones" of the old space (specifically, the open web metal trusses). 
• Cost effectiveness (of course!)
• To create a dynamic anchor for the office (Conference Room) that is energizing, unique, and that encourages dialogue. 
• Allow room for growth.
• A sensible divide between our office and the retail space we have created at the front of the building. This retail space will hopefully be rented out by a chef with a vision in the near future.
• Signage and parking that is easy for the public to locate and access.
• And... a functioning kitchenette of course. 

Another benefit of moving our office to this location is that we will be across the street from the lovely and historic Wendland building which has been transformed into an artist's studio. We caught a few of San Angelo's trademark sheep, waiting to be painted and peeping at us on our way out. 

We'll keep posting updates on the progress of our new office. It's a great opportunity for us to create something good for our office and, hopefully, for downtown San Angelo.

'The Used Car Lot' in all its vacant, rundown glory. The flat, straight lines in the building recall a bygone era...and echo the West Texas landscape. 

There are still spare parts laying around. Anyone need a windshield replacement?

The great, bold shapes give the building forward momentum. We are hoping to translate this momentum and sense of place into the new foundation offices. We intend to reuse the red roman brick in the new facade for the foundation.

The graffiti and paint jobs remaining gave us a taste of what the building's past lives may have been like. 

We feel that it was important to document these buildings and the site so that they can help to inform what happens in the future. 

From one life and generation to the next - such is the nature of buildings... and people! Much excitement comes from being able to be a part of these transitions as architects.  

In our established 1920’s era neighborhood were perhaps three lots that were clear and unbuilt.  The most beautiful of these—by far—was on Sulphur Draw.  It had a small creek running thru with trees lining the water’s edge.  Old timers told stories of exploring this area in the thirties.  Neighborhood kids had installed a rope swing in the deeper pool.  It had the feel of being in the country.  It was also considered unbuildable due to being in the flood plain. 

Here is a photo of the site, pre-house, from Google Earth My wife and I had talked for years about moving out of the ranchburger, so she was on board.  As an artist, she needed light and air also. We had been looking for years to find a different house in the same neighborhood—with no luck.

We made a list of For and Against the move to build a new house:

For:

1. Being an architect reduced architectural fees considerably

2. Having engineers donate their services for “a good cause” helped the budget.

3. Having good relationships with subcontractors allowed us to get some really good pricing

4. Having good relationships with local contractors allowed us to accept certain valuable materials that would otherwise have been discarded in the landfill (ie: select fill from ditches).  We needed a LOT of this to raise the house out of the flood plain.

5. Most importantly, we had/have a father in law who was/is a master builder…and who volunteered his time to build the house.  He is retired which allowed him the freedom to really spend time at the construction site.  Needless to say, this was invaluable and something that was crucial if we were to proceed.  Neither my wife nor I had the time to babysit a construction site.

Against:

1. Lack of funds.

2. Wanting to do something that would really connect to the outdoors and the site required something we didn’t have: funds

3. Not enough money.

“For” won.  In the end, no list was going to make the decision.  What was money?  This was emotional.  My wife called the number on the For Sale sign of the flood plain lot and worked the owner down to $25,000.  We were committed.

Clearly, we didn’t do the most sustainable thing.  But given that we were going to build we were committed to doing so with as little impact on the world as possible, as much as our budget would allow—not easy.  Though I am LEED accredited, I didn’t have the time or desire to do paperwork so we opted to simply do everything we could, within our budget, to “build green.”

Some primary goals we worked towards:

1. We researched energy efficient ways of building the shell: earth blocks, insulated concrete forms, straw bales, and structural insulated panels.  SIP’s won in the end due to the advertised ease of construction (not so, in our case) and because the factory is located two hours away (next door in West Texas).

2. An efficient, zoned, HVAC system.

3. Water saving features.

Some things we included in the house:

1. Across from our office (see photo at right), the two owners of a house built in 1901 were tearing it down themselves, board by board.  I asked if we might buy the lumber.  They were thrilled and so were we.  As I type this, I look down at our longleaf pine floor boards from the house (originally the shiplap interior siding in the rooms) that date back to the time of Jefferson and Washington.  I counted 223 rings on some of the boards—so I come up with 1779 as the date of the pine seedlings.  The floor is beautiful, dense, and lustrous not like the quickly grown wide grain pine wood of today. Not to say there wasn’t work involved in the reclaiming.  We planed and sawed and tongued and grooved.  Overall, it ended up costing about $9/sf.—pretty good

Additionally, the soffits above our patios came from the floor of the old house.  Glue from old carpet still stains them—we left all the “history” on them even though our workers begged to sand and finish them. 

Finally, we bought all of the old studs from the house. They were straight as an arrow and hard as nails.  All the lumber used in our house ended up being reclaimed.

2. We installed a white PVC roof (Durolast) that reflects the heat away in our desert like climate.

3. Installed a 10,000 gallon water cistern to catch rainwater off the roof.  This feeds our large grass lawn that leads down to the creek.  All other landscaping is xeriscaped.

4. We installed low water flow fixtures and used a continuous loop that circulates hot water to fixtures only when there is activity in the house.  This has been one of the things we like most: no wasted water waiting for a shower.

5. Installed insulated Low-E glass with thermally broken window mullions.

6. We carefully positioned windows so that they rarely receive direct sunlight and so that, during the day, we rarely turn a light on.

7. Used a high SEER rated air to air heat pump, zoned.  When the kids are at school, we turn their systems off.   During temperate months, we try not to use the system at all, using natural ventilation and ceiling fans.

8. We tried to minimize trips to the dump by creating a dumping ground of our own for discarded building materials.   Below the extensive fill used to create the slope up to the house we encouraged the tradesmen to dump scraps of lumber, stone, cmu, and other non-toxic materials.  This was the PHOTO donated fill saved from the dump.  The SIP panels, to their credit, had little waste due to their being built (to our design) in the factory.

9. Lastly, we reused a great old fifties globe chandelier that was pulled from a dumpster—it used to hang in the local Junior High School Library and was thrown away(!) during a renovation.

Yet, during this project, it became more clear that it is crucial to “listen to a site” and the only way to have a successful building.  And when I say site, my hunch is that Site is larger than merely the physical environment of land features and solar orientation.  It includes more abstract things such as Client, Budget, Program, and the Cultural/Social/Geographical meaning of a place.  Really, it is the thing that will help to create a PLACE—and places are where people want to be, isn't it?

Our site had the creek running thru, it had a small thicket along the creek, it was in the flood plain.  The best view faced East, toward the creek, a good thing for this site because the West sun in West Texas can make you cry.  For our small city, there is a fairly busy street along the south boundary.  It seems the stars had aligned for placing the house facing the creek, towards the best view, and out of harm’s way (the sun!).  The view was everything.  If the house didn’t pay more attention to the view than itself, I believe it would be a failure.  The entry and garage would be on the south where we would keep things simple with few windows to avoid a connection to the traffic of the street, as well as providing a buffer to the sun.  The south side could help to shield the rest of the site and house from noise and unwanted onlookers.

Now, as I type, the sun sets in the west and we reap the benefit of seeing light reflect off the pond towards the east. The trees are lit, it seems, from within and it makes me glad that we said “yes” way back when.  This is a magical place or so it seems

Of course it came with a cost.  Before we said yes, we tried to estimate what a house like this might cost.  I drew plans and did my own cost estimate and then a local contractor friend did a separate estimate.  His estimate was more than mine.  And we chose to believe mine, fools that we were/are.  Don’t we always want to believe the best about the situations that affect us?  Surely it couldn’t be as bad as all that, right?  Wrong.  It ended up costing even more than my friend’s estimate.  As I witness the light as it sets and lights up the creek, and as I feel the breeze winding its way thru the house (windows open), I wonder what that might have cost, but not really.  It’s lovely.

How have the panels performed? I was hoping they would end the hit that we take every month on energy bills.  They lessened the pain but they certainly didn’t end it.  Yet, I can’t say I’m disappointed because I don’t know what the bills might have been using other framing scenarios.  We have large expanses of glass opening to the view which can’t help the situation.  The bills are not nearly as high as our previous house (about $220 for electrical in August) but we don’t have the same square footage (now we have 2,400 sf vs. 3,200 sf previously).  Maybe my expectations were unrealistic. Maybe, if we hook up the solar panels we wired for, it will assuage my pain—the solar panels we couldn’t afford to begin with.

Since the panels were made in the factory and hauled here on a truck, there was very little waste—a good thing.

I will say that it is very nice to be comfortable in 15 degree weather outside.  The house is virtually airtight, it’s like living inside a Styrofoam beer cooler.  There are no radiant qualities here…but it only takes a second to condition the house and it stays that way for awhile unless you open a window or door.

2. I would have spent more time trying to simplify the work process.  Most everything that we built had to be skimcoated, painted, re-worked, finished, modified, coddled, or cut-to-fit.  I’d like to do a house where, once an element is installed, that’s it, there’s nothing more to do: what you see is what you get and things actually do snap together.  This would take more up-front time with the design and with shop drawings.  It may be that I’m asking for too much, that the construction tolerances inherent in building will not accommodate such a vision…but if we’re not there yet, we’re getting close.  Machining and manufacturing, aided by new technology such as BIM should be close to achieving this end.  In a small town in West Texas, our local manufacturers are not yet there.  Modern architects in the twenties dreamed of such an architecture (eg: “a machine for living”) but the dream turned out to be difficult to realize on a budget…are finally getting there?

3. I would simplify the electrical switching.  We couldn’t afford to buy higher end automated lighting systems so we ended up with too many switches trying to do too many things.  There are too many circuits and dimmers and knobs and plates and you have to remember what is what or you’re likely to hit four switches before you get what you want.

The Bird house project continues. Here are all seven of our bird houses on display primed and ready to be painted. The bird houses are going to be set up at the back of our new offices, which is the old San Angelo bus station. We are going to paint the bird house in a monchromatic style with bright colors. We will have pictures up shorlty of the finished product