Real estate developer Scott Rerucha and his wife Aree fully embraced this mindset when they decided to build a ground-up home in Kirkland. The duo—who met more than a decade ago while Scott was on an overseas business trip—had lived in two houses in the downtown area, but, according to him, one was too small and the other was fine, but not their dream spot. After they moved in, they found a vacant lot with territorial views where they envisioned building a custom home.

Aree and Jill chose an extra-large architectural light fixture from Italy to hang in the kitchen. Scott wasn’t sure at first, but now he can’t picture the room without it.

Photography by Kevin Scott

“We really built this house for ourselves,” Scott says of the 3,800-square-foot, two-story modern residence. “I just threw the investment thing to the side and said, ‘I don’t care about that part. What I care about is that we get what we want to live in.’”

Once they secured their lot, Scott and Aree immediately brought on an architect—Scott’s sister, Jill Rerucha, founder of Seattle-based Rerucha Studio. “We always wanted my sister to design a home for us,” Scott says. When the trio sat down to discuss the house, Scott and Aree, who is originally from Thailand, brought different styles, underscored by a shared penchant for simple forms, clean lines, and a connection to the surrounding landscape.

“They both influenced me,” Jill says of her design, which combines an industrial-leaning glass-and-steel palette with custom wood elements—screens, ceilings, panels, and the front door—that firmly ground the house within the Northwest architectural vernacular. She worked with local contractor  Stackman Homes on the build. “My brother is more traditional, but also bold. He wanted a large house with a lot of street presence. Aree has a more modern aesthetic and a little fresher look at things.”

The striking welcome includes a custom front door from Starboard Door.

Photography by Kevin Scott

A reflecting pond just off the entryway, where a custom fabricated staircase winds to the second floor.

Photography by Kevin Scott

One approach the couple agreed on was the importance of entertaining spaces. Both Scott and Aree are very social, and according to the couple, it’s not rare for them to have 20 people over to share a big, home-cooked Thai meal. The views are most visible from the second story, so Jill positioned that level as the main living space, comprising the living room, dining room, and kitchen—off of which is a large, covered terrace accessed by a row of Fleetwood that can fully open for total indoor-outdoor connection—as well as the primary suite. Here, Aree has a custom walk-in closet with a chandelier: her top request for the project.

Downstairs is Scott’s golf room (complete with a virtual-play setup), a lounge, the guest suite, laundry room and dog bath, as well as a flex space that Scott uses as an office when he works from home.

According to Jill, “since their living space is upstairs, that really defined the layout of the house.” To make it easier to transfer groceries, luggage, and the couple’s two dogs up one level, they installed an elevator, which the architect decorated with emerald-green paint and Italian floor tiles.

Floating stairs were high on the couple’s must-have list.

Photography by Kevin Scott

As guests ascend or descend, music is piped in to add atmosphere.

Elsewhere in the house, the palette is subdued, with white oak flooring, textured walls, and neutral-toned furniture. Asian-inspired influences—the wood screens, the open layout, a reflecting pond, and a bamboo grove in the yard—are a nod to Aree’s Thai culture, and gentle touches that warm up the otherwise industrial materials.

“The [slatted] screens bring patterned light in the house,” Jill says, “and not using blonde wood, using walnut instead, it’s very much like their house in Thailand.”

Two standout moments are the entry stairs, a request from the couple, the white oak steps float on a heavy steel spine; and the kitchen, which is all black. “The staircase is one piece of metal,” Scott says. “It had to be brought in before the house was fully framed.” The kitchen, where Aree spends a lot of time with her friends, cooking traditional Thai meals, features charcoal-toned quartz countertops, black marble backsplashes, and custom cabinetry stained dark, with a pearlized finish that catches the light. “We ended up having to stain the cabinets a couple of times,” Scott explains, “because it’s really hard to keep the look consistent.”

For some siblings, working together would be like trying to combine oil and water, but for Jill and Scott, the process was smooth and collaborative, and it deepened their mutual trust. Scott and Aree love their house and their ability to easily bring together friends and family. “Thai culture is so endearing and warm and accepting of everybody,” Scott says. “When we created our home, we thought about that, and we wanted it to be a space that we love, and that we can share with others.”

The post Collaborating Cultures appeared first on Seattle magazine.

Dense suburban charm is what lures many families to Montlake. Dense suburban charm is also what forces many families to leave Montlake.

“The lots here are very small, with setback and height restrictions,” says architectural designer and local resident Tamara Engel.

The affluent Montlake neighborhood is an important sanctuary for historic Tudor revival homes. The National Parks Service estimates that 27% of the neighborhood’s homes are century-old Tudors, making it the predominant style.

An extra 200 square feet made the kitchen airier and more connected.

Photography by Sumaira Amber

Think of a Tudor revival home as a Victorian home that got into the cooking sherry. The movement arose in the U.S. in the 1890s as a nod to the rustic English Tudor cottages of the 1500s, and as a pushback against more starchy vernaculars. Tudors are distinguished by their eccentricity and asymmetry. No two Montlake Tudors are exactly alike, even in blocks built by the same developer.

Since they were mostly constructed in the roaring late 1920s, Tudors are sometimes called stockbroker homes. Their popularity, however, plunged with the markets. A typical Tudor has a steeply pitched roof and dominant front-facing gable; decorative half-timber framing; arched doorways; patterned or clinkered large chimneys; and tall, narrow window groups.

Chock-blocking zoning restrictions make expanding up or down the only viable options for many Montlake families experiencing growing pains. Kirt Debique and Ann Marie Mentis ended up doing a little of both. They loved the neighborhood and their storybook 1927 home, which featured old-growth mahogany trim, leaded glass windows and plaster walls, but faced form and function challenges.

“We were storing kitchen items in an unfinished basement, bathroom items in a hallway nook, and clothes in various rooms, given the limited closet space,” Mentis says. “There wasn’t a home for shoes and coats. Typical Tudor living.”

Their existing basement ceiling was just over 6 feet, common for the era but not for Montlake, where most are closer to a luxurious 8 feet.

“We decided to raise the entire house to elevate the finished basement,” she adds. “The extra square footage provided us with a mudroom, office, full bathroom, family room, and we even snuck in a small fourth bedroom. It’s a walk-out basement with high ceilings. I think it’s time we stopped calling it a ‘basement.’ It’s essentially our first floor.”

The couple engaged Engel, a friend and neighbor, to develop an expansion plan that preserved the historic face of the home. Its cedar lap siding was restored to last another 100 years, and the back of the second floor was subtly bumped to add a new primary bedroom.

As Engel says, “When I do a project in a historic neighborhood, my goal is for someone to walk by and never know that a remodel was done.”

Tudor interior design is by definition a moving target. The tricky business of blending new world functionality with old world charm fell to Jennifer Gardner Design. In the kitchen, the stove had been isolated on a wall across from the basement stairs. The room’s flow was further interrupted by an oddly shaped peninsula. “They both love to cook, but they were tripping over each other,” Gardner says.

Timeless elegance

Photography by Sumaira Amber

Two-hundred square feet was added, allowing for a large anchoring island, three cooking/prep stations and seating for guests. Calacatta gold marble countertops and custom cabinets were commissioned. Ferguson Plumbing Supply provided unlacquered, living finish brass and nickel fixtures.

Mentis researched vintage lighting (Rejuvenation and Visual Comfort) extensively, with Gardner advising on scale and finish.

The important matter of high-end ranges was thoroughly vetted. The best candidates seemed to sort themselves into opposing camps, often contradictory camps — high performance or high style. They chose high performance, a six-burner, dual-fuel Wolf.

The kitchen is Debique’s favorite room, while Mentis cheerfully banishes herself to the bright and fully appointed underworld, where even the gruffest old-school Tudor owner might find solace after a hard day of routing peasants. Calming amenities include an elegant new bath with English floral garden wallpaper (William & Morris).

The main draw is the mudroom, which features marble countertops, black and white marble floors, green cabinets, a pink Dutch door that opens to the backyard, and the much anticipated and desperately needed beautiful cafe-curtained storage.

Design challenges included maintaining the home’s historical charm while making it comfortable for modern living.

Photography by Sumaira Amber

“It’s a mother’s dream,” Mentis notes. “As a stay-at-home, I joke that it’s my office. Yes, the brand new kitchen is glorious, but mudrooms are underrated. Every day goes significantly smoother now that we enter and exit via a mudroom.”

Seattle homeowners over the past decade have increasingly created more living space by going underground, says Jeremy Weiss, co-owner of WA Development Group, which served as general contractor for the project.

Water table and soil structure permitting, digging deeper is more common than lifting, which can cause plaster cracking and other problems in older homes. That was less of a concern here, since the upper floors were to be extensively remodeled after the lift.

“Modern homes are easy to lift. With earthquake codes, they’re bulletproof,” Weiss adds.

The precious windows were removed and the openings stabilized with plywood before the operation. The cost of lifting the home and setting it back down was $30,000. Costs for additional foundation work and basement remodeling range from $50,000 to $350,000 depending on the project.

Supply lines for remodeling materials have finally snapped back to pre-pandemic efficiencies, but costs have increased significantly, Gardner says.

“Three years ago, a kitchen remodel cost about $65,000 to $70,000,” he says. “Now it’s more than $100,000, and from what I’m hearing from contractors, that price is not going to come back down. People are having to make some tough choices.”

For some, that includes foregoing an interior designer, which Gardner doesn’t take personally. She admits that it’s an expensive service. The author of a popular design blog and a former educator, she has launched a step-by-step online design service, including a weekly video consultation.

The Debique-Mentis project was a big win for the neighborhood, says Engel, who lives across the street. “The small lots and close houses — most without a garage on the street — nurture a kind of community that is hard to replace. We were all so happy that they were willing to do the hard work to make the house right for them to stay.”

The post Underground Overhaul appeared first on Seattle magazine.

They didn’t have to think twice about it. Prinzing had extensive knowledge on the topics — looking at the lives and work of flower farmers around the United States and Canada — plus a personal passion for spreading the word about domestically grown flowers. She and Avni, who had met years earlier at a press event (Avni was art director at Seattle Times for nearly six years), were both on board.

Titled The Flower Farmers: Inspiration & Advice from Expert Growers, the volume hit shelves May 6 and features 29 growers, eight of whom are based in the Pacific Northwest.

“We knew we could do a beautiful job,” Prinzing says. “We’re not trying to teach people how to be flower farmers. We see our audience as people who want to grow beautiful flowers in their garden and do it like the pros.”

The author of 12 books, Prinzing has broad publishing experience and decades of expertise on all things garden-related, from intro-level gardening tips to the ins and outs of the American flower-growing industry. As the founder of Slow Flowers, Prinzing also hosts and produces the Slow Flowers podcast (which first aired nine years ago and has an impressive 715 episodes) and heads up the award-winning quarterly magazine, Slow Flowers Journal.

The Slow Flowers movement is akin to the Slow Food Movement, sharing the same principles of utilizing locally grown specimens that are organic or sustainably grown. It focuses on what is “in season.” Prinzing launched the movement, which includes a directory of more than 700 growers, to create awareness around the potential negative impacts of purchasing imported flowers grown thousands of miles away and flown to the United States for sale. These impacts range from environmental degradation and worker exploitation to floral genetic engineering. Instead of picking up a $10 bouquet from the grocery store, Prinzing urges people to venture to the local farmers market, floral shop, or you-pick stand.

Each chapter in The Flower Farmers consists of a multi-page, photo-heavy spread telling the story of how each individual or family got into the industry and includes botanical notes and planting tips for their favorite blooms.

Jarn Co. Flowers in Monroe is one of the farms featured in The Flower Farmers.

“All flower farmers are artists in how they plant their crops and organize the varieties,” Prinzing says. “The universal thread through every story is the path that they have taken to get to where they are. A few are second or third generation flower farmers, but most are new to it. There are Wall Street drop-outs or artists that originally had a different medium such as pottery.”

Others started working with flowers as a side gig that ended up evolving into a full-time career.

Then, there are those who use flower farming as a source of healing. “Some are seeking wellness,” Prinzing says, “like recovery from addiction or cancer, or grief.”

One such individual is Misty Vanderweele from All Dahlia’d Up Flower Farm based in Palmer, Alaska. (As Prinzing writes, “Yes, you can grow gorgeous cut flowers in Alaska.”) Vanderweele lost her son, Luke, who battled Duchenne muscular dystrophy, when he was just 21 years old. To help cope with her grief, she took clippings from the offspring of a potted dahlia seedling that Luke had brought home in kindergarten, along with other flowers from her garden, and sold them at a local farmer’s market.

The homespun business eventually grew into a multi-field venture. The original purple dahlia patch grew from 54 plants to its current 2,300 — a lovely remembrance to a young life lost too soon.

Misty Vanderweele at her Alaska flower farm.

Photo courtesy of All Dahlia'd Up Flower Farm

According to Prinzing, professional flower farmers aren’t the only ones taking to the dirt — the Covid-19 pandemic spurred a lot of people to try their hand at planting some seeds. “It’s safe to say that 18 million new people picked up a trowel and entered gardening during the pandemic,” Prinzing says. “Maybe they started with vegetables, but then they experimented with ornamentals. We saw a huge return to nature on so many levels.”

For those who are garden-curious, Prinzing says that now is the perfect time to break ground. “You can start your annuals right now,” she says. These include sweet peas, Gerber daisies, nasturtium, poppies, sunflowers, and so many more. “Being a longtime gardener in the Seattle area, the official start of planting season is around Mother’s Day. You can plant dahlia tubers now and you’ll have bouquets all through summer.”

If you’re looking for a quicker payoff, say an immediate cutting garden, you can go to local plant sales. Prinzing, in fact, recently organized one at the Seattle Wholesale Growers Market, a farmer-owned co-op located in Georgetown that offers the largest selection of locally grown flowers in the area. Ultimately, she encourages everyone to take a turn at growing something regardless of where you live, as it doesn’t require a full yard. Window planters, potted flora, and community gardens such as Seattle’s P-Patch program are all are great options, because, as Prinzing says, “there is a healing benefit to putting your hands in the soil.”

Debra Prinzing and Robin Avni at the Seattle Wholesale Growers Market.

Photo courtesy of Seattle Wholesale Growers Market

The Northwest Horticultural Society is holding a book event with Prinzing and Avni from 6:30 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. May 21 at the Bellevue Botanical Garden. Details and tickets here.

The post Not Flown, Grown: The Slow Flowers Movement is Having A Moment appeared first on Seattle magazine.

Architect Eric Walter, co-founder of Seattle’s MW Works, was consulted to determine if a deteriorating cabin might be salvaged. He advised the couple to tear it down.

The Connors asked for a replacement structure that could stand up to big-boy weather. “After living through hurricanes and floods in Houston, which caused people enormous headaches with mold inside their homes and drywall that essentially disintegrated, we wanted to minimize the use of drywall,” Julie says.

“The project is not about big moves. It’s not some grand architectural gesture. It’s just enough of what you need and nothing more.” — Eric Walter, Architect and co-founder of MWWORKS

“It’s like the story of ‘The Three Little Pigs’ — we didn’t want to build a house out of paper mâché,” John adds.

With a humble budget and simple needs, they weren’t expecting MW Works to produce a design that would go on to win widespread critical acclaim and numerous awards, but that’s what they got.

“The project is not about big moves. It’s not some grand architectural gesture. It’s just enough of what you need and nothing more,” Walter says of his Northwest modern minimalist design.

Little House began life as Tiny House. The Connors elected to save money by building atop an existing foundation that measured 20 feet by 20 feet, which would produce a total of just 800 square feet for a standard two-story structure. The architects instead developed a floor plan cantilevered on all sides, allowing for a total of 1,140 square feet. This bit of foundational trickery is disguised by an exterior skirting of blackened cement infill panels, which complement the equally moody cedar siding that was oxidized to speed up aging and turn it black.

That is Little House’s lone subterfuge. Visitors have no trouble instantly reading the room. The bright interior is a master class in transparency, with straightforward deployment of simple materials.

“You can do a lot with shape and color,” John says. “You don’t need marble and leather.”

Smart simplicity. To warm the interior, walls are clad in lightly painted and disparately segmented medium-density fiberboard. The basic materials create a warm, welcoming environment and a spacious vibe.

The ground level contains a mudroom, a corian-countered kitchen, and an open plan living and dining area. Floor-to-ceiling glass offers views to the north of the water and the mountainous terrain. Two bedrooms and a shared bathroom co-exist upstairs.

The Connors are outdoor cats, and pleaded for a design that wouldn’t leave them scratching at the doors.

Basic materials create a warm environment.

Photo by Andrew Pogue

“We live most of the year in Houston and can be outside most of the time, although it’s a tad hot in the summer,” John says. “We wanted to be able to feel like we were outside even when it was raining. The architects responded with window walls,” giving the feel of outdoor living inside.

They also needed a “wash-and-wear” interior. As a second-home, vacation destination, the Connors didn’t want the interior surfaces to be “precious.” They wanted to plunk down their stuff, give their dog freedom of movement and make sure that everything was useful and usable. Think of it as smart simplicity.

To warm the interior, walls are clad in lightly painted and disparately segmented medium-density fiberboard, which is highly moisture-resistant, and pine plywood. Everything clicks together, as if the house was constructed of Legos.

Ranges of glass on the north and west facades provide a strong connection to the natural landscape. The remaining two sides were left mostly opaque to shield views from the driveway and neighboring properties. A firewood nook anchors the south elevation, where a thin canopy shelters a porch and marks the front entrance. A terrace at the northwestern corner beckons toward the landscape and serves as a jumping-off point to the trail system that meanders to the water’s edge.

Many rural holiday homes are unfortunately sited in accordance with an urban social imperative — face the road, face the neighbors.

“I hear so many vacation homeowners say, “I wish I could turn the house toward the view,’” John notes. “That’s hard to do after the fact.”

The Connors’ primary home in Houston is a spacious, traditional 1930s home, but Little House doesn’t feel cramped, partially because of high ceilings, the judicious use of off-white and black paint, and the finish on the plywood walls and alder floor. The Douglas fir beams above the dining table were bleached to match other wood species in the home, as if they were from the same family. Left to its own devices, fir tends to fade to fake-tan orange.

“We wanted to be able to feel like we were outside even when it was raining. The architects responded with window walls.”

Skylights help mitigate the northern exposure, especially one situated over the shower. The main-bedroom skylight allows for a celestial window to see the moon, the stars, and the sky — a literal portal to the cosmos.

For others looking for a second home, Julie offers a piece of sage advice: Be very clear about your priorities and how you anticipate using the home.

“Look carefully at other projects completed by your architect. If you could imagine enjoying living in those spaces, you can probably translate that into a successful project.”

The post Where Function Meets Finesse appeared first on Seattle magazine.

Mercer Island residents Sheri and Jeff Blumenthal have been vacationing in the area for 20 years, attracted to the pristine water, family friendly vibe, outdoor culture, dry climate, golf, agricultural productivity, toasty summers, and wine industry. A waterfront lot was beyond their means. Until one day it wasn’t.

“We were just paddling along on the lake and saw a ‘For Sale’ sign on a dock, and we had a Covid-crazy idea,” Jeff recalls.

The road near Chelan (population 4,200) hugs the lake, creating a series of cheaper parcels that aren’t big enough to qualify for a building permit. Over the years, property owners have developed a sort of day-use cabana lifestyle to utilize the waterfront lots. Building permits are not required for uninhabited small accessory structures in Washington, as long as mechanical systems aren’t installed. Portable solar panels and batteries and other energy-efficient outdoor technology are making such tiny off-grid hideaways more feasible.

The Blumenthals bought the cabana lot, and up the hill about a mile away a second larger parcel with a great view, where they constructed a 2,500-square foot modern farmhouse and planted a necklace of wine grapes.

“We built our home in Mercer Island, and enjoyed the process,” Sheri says.

Cabanas provide a roof and three walls for privacy and shade, with a fourth wall that can be opened to the water. Custom models sell for up to $50,000. The Blumenthals budgeted $20,000 plus $1,000 for delivery, and commissioned a lockable unit featuring LP siding, partial bar, refrigerator, and other creature comforts. Family pitched in to build a “pop-up picnic table boat” permanently moored to the dock.

While there was an impulse component to the cabana lot purchase, the Blumenthals are both long-time professionals in finance who had carefully plotted a move to Chelan. First, they had committed to visiting the area frequently for one year. “We weren’t sure that we would want to spend most of our vacations in the same place,” Sheri says. Today, their now college-age kids are frequent visitors. Second, they reduced anxiety by creating a spreadsheet of expected expenses for their second home.

“For the most part, it was pretty accurate,” Jeff notes.

And now, the Blumenthals are very much enjoying their “cabana” lifestyle.

The post Sandy Sanctuary appeared first on Seattle magazine.

Sandy Wolf founded Seattle’s Office of Ordinary Architecture in the belief that beauty is found in everyday objects. She and her husband — fellow architect Daniel Ash — were not disappointed in that regard in their long search for a home of their own. They finally settled on a quirky structure with a flat roof and cornices.

“From the street, it’s very unassuming,” Wolf says. “People frequently say, ‘I thought this was an office building.’ It looks really ordinary, but lives really large.”

The droll facade hid a dusty gem: a unique 1979 townhome designed by Seattle architect Milton Stricker, who studied under Frank Lloyd Wright. With a roofline as distinctive as Don Draper’s fedora, Stricker homes are easy to spot. There are a half-dozen examples within an easy walk of the Wolf-Ash home in the Mount Baker neighborhood. The 1,000-square-foot split-level townhome, one of four units in the building, was created in the horizontal Prairie style, inspired by the flat, broad expanse of the Midwest and the first uniquely American architectural style of the 20th century.

It was the narcotic effect of the home’s custom-built-on-site windows that sealed the deal. They featured butt-joint glazing, a glass-on-class mitering technique that allows a seamless panoramic view. Modern energy codes prevent the method from being used in new construction. The good news was that the home was purchased from Stricker’s son and, unlike the other three units, had retained many of its original mid-century details. The bad news was that the tiny kitchen retained some of the Space Age’s less critical contributions to culinary science, such as lazy Susan technology and clinically obese appliances.

Trapezoids and acute angles were among the stock in trade for Stricker, who demonstrated no terrible affection for precise right angles, at least not in this rendering. The building is an extended hexagon with pointed ends.

That makes for intriguing architecture, but also creates some maddening remodeling complications. One might reasonably assume that the wall behind the existing refrigerator is square and would therefore accommodate a new installation to a quarter-inch margin tolerance. That was not the case.

“At times, it very much seemed like we were remodeling a boat,” Wolf notes. “By the end of the project, our tile installer was not in love with us.”

To rage against the extremely controlled palette — cherry cabinets, mahogany trim and white walls — they unleashed “punches of color,” tagging light fixtures mint green and commissioning splashes of faux handmade variegated porcelain tile.

They decided they could free up valuable space with a slender, scratch-and-dent German refrigerator with the freezer on the bottom. In time they would come to prefer the new arrangement. “It’s easier to reach everything, and you don’t have to deal with those weird things lurking in the corners,” says Ash, the family cook. But the real party trick of the remodel is the new hidden induction (Invisacook) stove, which heats through the countertop. There are no seams, breaks or any other indication that a portion of the countertop is actually the stove, making it sleek, safe, space-efficient and a snap to clean.

“You can put a piece of paper under a Dutch oven while you’re cooking, and it won’t ignite. After you’re done, the counter is cool to the touch, so you can immediately use it for food prep or other functions,” Ash says.

“Our counter is porcelain, but I don’t think it works well with quartz, which a lot of people are installing these days.”

Like many others at the start of the pandemic, the couple were stunned to suddenly find themselves working from home. Both are graduates of Auburn University’s prestigious Rural Studio, where they learned to pour concrete and other types of manual labor in the punishing Alabama summer heat.

They immediately rolled up their sleeves and went to work on this project, tackling the “mound of dirt” that comprised the backyard, carving out a 500-square-foot outdoor room. A mill connection provided high-grade cedar slats to hide the home’s unsightly crawl space and create new storage. Ash’s first endeavor was a unique and complex ensemble of Wright-inspired outdoor concrete projects, including a stairway, bench and rippling plant wall: “My goal was to build something that nobody in their right mind would pay for.”

To rage against the extremely controlled palette — cherry cabinets, mahogany trim and white walls — they unleashed “punches of color,” tagging light fixtures mint green and commissioning splashes of faux handmade variegated porcelain tile. The couple were compelled by circumstances to create a lair for their “absurdly annoying” pet hedgehog, which is a short, stout, perky-snouted mammal. They are smaller and in theory cuddlier than a porcupine, and although their spines are stronger, they don’t release barbed quills or toxins.

Nocturnal and highly active, hedgehogs are so named for their aggressive foraging style, all of which is justifiable on an evolutionary scale, but of no particular benefit when placed in congress with finely crafted architectural interiors. Their strategy was to build a throne so alluring as to preclude lesser expeditions. An aquarium view was among the non-negotiable demands. Time elapsed: three weeks.

A time crunch compelled them to hire a general contractor, which was easily the top budget-line item. The most savings were realized in the landscaping, since they performed much of that labor themselves. The sheetrock half-wall in the dining nook was replaced with glass, creating a game-changing line of sight from the kitchen to the backyard.

“We respected the vernacular with a subtle remodel,” Wolf says. “It’s not 1979 anymore, but it looks like it has always been there, which is what we are most proud of.”

The post Prairie Townhome Companions appeared first on Seattle magazine.

The Bellevue couple had spent years searching the west-facing waterfront corridor from Bellingham to Oregon, but always found themselves a step behind the pandemic-induced buying frenzy. They were about to give up when they noticed a sleek and powerful home on west Bainbridge Island, where Puget Sound meets the bay.

The natural world. Darshana Shanbhag says she enjoys the feeling of being “one with nature” at her second home on Bainbridge Island.

Photography by Emily Keeney

It was a “legacy” home designed by longtime local architect Peter Brachvogel. Built to last hundreds of years and passed down through generations, legacy homes represent a new breed of future-forward vacation property. After just 48 hours on the market, the home had already attracted a near full-price offer. The couple were grateful — and surprised — when their counter bid was accepted. “It’s pretty much what we had in mind. More expensive than we had anticipated, but lovelier than we’d imagined,” Wagle says.

It’s no stretch to say that time moves more slowly on Bainbridge Island. The life expectancy here is 87 years, the longest in the state, and almost eight years longer than the statewide average. The primary consideration in their search was that the lot must front saltwater, not a lake. “We wanted a place where we could just chill, relax and be one with nature,” Shanbhag says. “We wanted to be able to experience the tides and the waves, to feel like we were a part of the cycles of the Earth.”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY EMILY KEENEY

With Shanbhag busy with her medical practice and other responsibilities, Wagle, a business executive with an MBA and multiple computer science and engineering degrees, spearheaded a methodical hunt for vacation property, inspiring Shanbhag with his enthusiasm. Convenience was another important factor in their search. They didn’t want a place that was more than two or three hours away from their primary home in Bellevue. They were concerned that distance would discourage their use of a second home.

The 3,200-square-foot home was built in 2012 and refreshed in 2020 with an emphasis on high-end sustainable materials and systems, and a versatile floor plan designed to meet the evolving needs of its inhabitants, remaining functional and accessible for every stage of life. And — when you live on the edge of eternity — there is no need for a formal dining room.

“I love designing vacation homes. Everybody has a great attitude,” says Brachvogel, who has been building homes on Bainbridge Island for 35 years. “The owners have reached a stage in their life where they’ve fulfilled most of their responsibilities, and they’re ready to spread their wings.”

The home’s massive, carefully calibrated roof overhang is designed to hoard light while aggressively protecting the western red cedar soffits and siding. “This building lights itself,” Brachvogel notes. The original owners chose to stain the clear cedar, which was unnecessary due to the overhang, and will require maintenance.

Windows to the water

Photography by Emily Keeney

The 40-year standing-seam roof is custom-made on 18-inch centers, as opposed to standard 12-inch centers. At that width, manufacturers typically baffle the metal to increase strength, but Brachvogel likes the flat, uninterrupted look. The butyl-injected seams repel water and peak at a tall 1.5 inches, enabling the seams to cast a beautiful shadow. On the interior, acid-etched and stained concrete floors are underpinned with 13 inches of insulation — far beyond code requirements. The floors are radiantly heated via a complex geothermal system.

The home had its share of challenges, among them mastering operation of the geothermal system, septic system and water well.

“That isn’t something we had experience with in Bellevue,” Shanbhag says. “It is time-consuming maintaining two homes, but we decided that we wanted to do it ourselves, and not turn it over to a property management company. Both homes are dear to our heart. We feel bad when we leave one for the other.”

To speed the transition between Bellevue and Bainbridge, each household has a complete set of clothing, pantry items, and other daily necessities. They strive for congruence in household organization — for example, kitchen utensils and dishware are arranged similarly in each home.

“In Bainbridge, we felt it was important to maintain the feeling of light and space. The art is eclectic, mostly nature and a modern take on humanity. The walls are white to emphasize the art. It feels like a space to sit and look out at nature.” — Darshana Shanbhag

Both homes are designed in the contemporary modern style they prefer, but the Bainbridge second home features a deliberate break in traditional decor to reinforce the vacation concept. The couple are both retired, but remain busy with a wide range of philanthropic and leadership organizations.

“In Bellevue, there is far more art and far more attention to detail, because we do a lot more entertaining there,” Shanbhag says. “In Bainbridge, we felt it was important to maintain the feeling of light and space. The art is eclectic, mostly nature and a modern take on humanity. The walls are white to emphasize the art. It feels like a space to sit and look out at nature.”

The couple wanted to maximize the use of light and space to take advantage of the water view.

Photography by Emily Keeney

Legacy homes are often built to comfortably host three generations, which is possible without purchasing additional lots. One recent Brachvogel project included a main house, a guest wing accessed through a glass-covered walkway, and a stand-alone accessory dwelling unit with bunk beds.

Many of his Bainbridge clients are compounding in place by getting creative with accessory buildings and structures. One, for example, constructed an “oyster temple” for shucking and cooking shellfish. Such accessory structures can be arranged at corners of a quad to create an inviting outdoor room.

“A common mistake first-time vacation homebuyers make is to over-glamorize the process,” Brachvogel notes. “They need to use caution. A lot of vacation homes are really just cabins that were built 50 years ago by the homeowner, sometimes with a kit.”

Wood touching the ground, water pooling on the roof and compromised siding are key indications of predation by rot and rodents, he adds.

Wagle and Shanbhag have the same favorite spot in the home, in the great room with the nano doors open to the patio, especially when low tides expose a shellfish buffet for bald eagles and many other species. “There is always so much life there,” Shanbhag says. “Being in the midst of so many wild creatures gives us a sense of balance and reminds us that we are just a small part of it.”

A widely reported study noted that the average American has not made a new friend in the past five years. That, however, is most definitely not the Bainbridge Island way.

“It is a lovely community, with lovely people,” she says. “We have made so many new friends. That wasn’t something we planned on when we were looking for a vacation home, but we are thrilled by it.”

Elite Escape. The design is modern, but the couple also wanted a “vacation home” vibe.

Photography by Emily Keeney

The post Tide and True appeared first on Seattle magazine.

Awaiting you in the heart of Queen Anne is the inspired lifestyle of Gables Queen Anne with unparalleled views and most importantly, a community created for you. Imagine yourself living in this upscale space with all the conveniences you need within walking distance. Our community provides well-designed high-end finishes for all studio, one- and two-bedroom apartment homes.

Gables Queen Anne is nestled in the midst of a vibrant urban neighborhood which has incorporated both exterior and interior art providing a warm, uplifting environment. Living here provides you with the opportunity to establish neighborhood relationships, shop for your groceries downstairs, and enjoy the many local neighborhood offerings from dining to shopping including specialty stores for you and your furry friend.

Seeking to showcase local Seattle artists and create the charm that would enhance the lifestyle at the community, Gables Queen Anne boasts exterior signature pieces by Stuart Nakamura, Marsha Rollinger, Gabrielle Abbott, and Xin-Xin, to name a few. When you visit our community, indulge in our interior art featuring more renowned local artists. You will feel welcomed and enveloped by the art which was thoughtfully curated to represent aspects of Queen Anne’s past and present.

Art is just the beginning of the exceptional amenities at Gables Queen Anne. Residents can experience our four unique rooftop terraces featuring outdoor kitchens and fire pits, beautifully designed club rooms including a game room, lounges with outdoor cabana seating, a fitness center and so much more. Our apartment homes feature classic, sophisticated interiors with private balcony options, high-end kitchen appliances and finishes, modern bathroom details, and refined touches throughout.

We invite you to make Gables Queen Anne your home.

The post Gables Queen Anne appeared first on Seattle magazine.

If changing up the old routine is on your horizon, then this issue offers just the right form of adult escapism — the dream of a second home. Whether this is of practical imminence or merely fantasy, the simple aspiration itself can be a telling exercise in how you want your life to change, what you wish to keep versus shed, and whether to slow down or be more active. Imagine a place your very own that’s just a short drive (or flight) away, where upon arrival your mood elevates, and the world seems not so bad.

Whether it be a beach cottage, a modernist’s haven in the San Juan Islands, or a charming farmhouse in the countryside, it’s a sanctuary and a place to recharge without the stress of planning trips every time you want to get out of town. It’s not just a luxury. It’s really an investment in your well-being and happiness.

In these pages, we present some of the top architects and builders in that business. All are from the Pacific Northwest and all enjoy national renown. Their bold visions and cutting-edge approaches manifest in the jaw-dropping architecture gracing our pages. You’ll read about master architect Eric Cobb discussing light and space as key drivers of “structural expression” in the Pacific Northwest, resulting in some highly innovative designs that have arguably upped the bar for Seattle’s custom home builds over the last 30 years. The partners at architecture firm mwworks, who specialize in challenging build sites in the San Juans and Hood Canal, also share gorgeous design ideas that balance simplicity, lack of preciousness, and massive weather robustness.

But you’ll also hear from the owners themselves. From Chelan to Bainbridge, what is the reality of second-home ownership truly like? What are the joys but also the downsides? And would they do it over again?

Beyond the personal benefits, a second home can be an investment in your retirement. With a robust annual average appreciation of 4% to 5% per year in our idyllic region, second homes can be enjoyed now and have a strong upside in the years to come. If you’re open to it, you can generate rental income when you’re not using the space, helping to offset costs. It’s a win-win.

So, let’s get out of town for a bit, yeah?

The post Publisher’s Note: The Beauty Of A Second Home appeared first on Seattle magazine.

Remnants of a bygone era included pillars, carpeted bathrooms, a sunken living room and a Jacuzzi in the master suite. The home’s disagreeable floor plan backed the family of five into the kitchen. They persisted with good humor until flood damage triggered a full-bore remodel.

“I didn’t know anything about remodeling,” Smith recalls. “I thought it would take a month.”

Her mother had just finished a complex and well-received remodel of her home in Jerusalem and was available to help. Early childhood memories of her mother’s dresses are a foundation of Smith’s fondness for arresting hues and patterns.

“It’s a good antidote to all the tacky, cold, sterile boxes going up, especially on the Eastside,” Larson says, “where every new home has to include a butler’s pantry.”

Smith, a curator, and her mother, an artist and ceramicist, collaborated on a provocative interior design that paid homage to their homeland of Israel. Smith and her husband, Shmulik Eisenmann, engaged Story Architecture’s Miriam Larson, who was initially skeptical.

By the end of the project, the architect had developed an appreciation of her client’s design sense and sense of community.

“It’s bold, irreverent and interesting. Everyone who walks through it is impressed,” Larson says. “There are many textures, many colors, many styles, and yet somehow it all works. It’s a unique, meaningful project and there were many obstacles to overcome.”

The high-tech industry has attracted to Seattle thousands of brilliant, innovative people from around the world. A sizable chunk of that energy — and disposable income — was turned inward during the pandemic, injecting color, creativity, and class into the region’s residential architecture portfolio.

“It’s a good antidote to all the tacky, cold, sterile boxes going up, especially on the Eastside,” Larson says, “where every new home has to include a butler’s pantry.” An early obstacle for Smith was learning to work with wood. Homes in Israel are made of brick, concrete, and tile. Kitchen floors are flooded and sluiced rather than mopped.

Smith discovered that exterior paints that look good in the showroom don’t always hold up on test drives. She isolated the proper tint — “summer blue” — by tagging the side of her home with sample swatches.

“Natalie loves blue,” Larson says. “Even the insides of her shoes are blue.”

An egg yolk yellow was selected for the front door. Completing the “Hello Wedgwood!” effect, like expertly applied eyeliner are the slender black mullions of newly installed New York loft-style windows (Marvin Modern Windows).

The black windows combine with white, high-ceiling interior spaces to create a backdrop for splashes of color throughout. Warm wood flooring fearlessly borders cool mosaic cement tile.

The living and other rooms reflect a mastery of color-block harmony design principles promoted by artists such as Piet Mondrian, who magnified the impact of primary colors by surrounding them with expanses of bright white and geometric black lines.

Quiet luxury. A sliding barn door from the pantry closes an entrance to the family room.

Photography by Miranda Estes

Quiet luxury abounds in the kitchen, with European-style cabinets and handmade Moroccan zellige backsplash (Indian Saffron). “Eventually, the kitchen always becomes the center of the home,” Smith says.

A barn door (Frank’s Lumber) can be slid from the pantry to close an entrance to the family room. Guest suites are trending locally as an alternative to building an accessory dwelling unit at the back of the property. Larson attributes this in part to demand from immigrant families, many from cultures that place a higher value on intergenerational living than the typical American family.

Quiet luxury. A sliding barn door from the pantry closes an entrance to the family room.

Photography by Miranda Estes

It’s an 18-hour flight from Jerusalem, so visitations of three weeks or longer are common, Smith notes.

A 180-square-foot guest suite was created off the kitchen with bedroom, small closet and comfortable bath, where Moroccan tiles were coaxed in from the kitchen and sent racing up the walls. In a lucky accident, the design team located an off-the-rack shower stall that exactly matches the style of the exterior windows.

The existing upper floor plan included a dead area between the master suite and children’s bedrooms. This was combined with the footage intended for the master bath to create a reading-room landing area that is now one of the most popular destinations in the home.

Sourcing a perfect-sized mustard loveseat proved a challenge. The space was wired for television, but Smith later decided against the installation. Glossy porcelain subway tile (Poseidon Blue, Cavallo) anchors the primary bath. The vanity surface is flat and painted high gloss, making it easy to clean. “I hate seeing fingerprints on the cabinet,” Smith adds. “Besides, I think it looks posh.”

Creative and colorful. The renovation created a reading-room landing area from a dead space between the master suite and children’s bedroom.

Photography by Miranda Estes

The project drew so many compliments that Smith’s mother, 70, was inspired to pursue a design career. She was accepted into Israel’s most prestigious design Institute, and spent a year learning software in preparation for beginning formal studies in October 2023.

Then, on Oct. 7 that year, Smith heard news reports that there was trouble in Israel. She immediately phoned her aunt and uncle, Lilach and Eviatar Kipnis, who helped raise her and lived in a village within eyesight of the fence surrounding Gaza. They spoke softly, concerned that nearby Hamas militants would overhear.

They were later found dead. The couple was eulogized as lovers of peace who had opposed right-wing Israeli politicians, worked tirelessly to end military occupation of the West Bank, and volunteered to provide blankets and food to Palestinian political prisoners held in Israeli jails.

Seven other family members were kidnapped. Six were returned in the first hostage deal. One, Shmulik’s cousin, remains in Gaza.

Smith, a third-generation peace activist, spoke prominently in Seattle news media in the weeks that followed, condemning the attack, but also calling for protection for innocent Palestinians living in Gaza.

“We came here for economic opportunity, but also due to a disparity with what was happening in Israel,” she says. “I thought we were coming to a place of progress. America had a Black president. But in 2016, Trump was elected, and that was really, really hard.”

The house became a labor of love

An oil-on-canvas abstract of a tractor working a field, painted by an Israeli friend who lives in a kibbutz, hangs above the fireplace. Gallery-style high cubbies feature her mother’s native art.

A goal of the remodel was to amplify light from the home’s southern orientation, which overlooks a community garden, or what Smith calls “the pea patch.” It’s what originally attracted her to the home. Bright outdoor furniture gives the back deck a hard spank of primary color.

The home is now much more habitable and efficient, an important consideration in a household with boys ages 13, 9, and 3.

“Miriam came up with the genius idea to move the laundry to the second floor,” Smith says. “She made it real cute. I thank her every day for that. I had actually broken my foot schlepping clothes down the stairs. It’s the daily things that really matter.”

The new design increased the home’s footprint just 71 square feet, but peat in the soil required an arduous permitting process  for “piling,” which entails driving 2-inch-diameter foundation pins 10 to 15 feet deep.

Covid-era bids were extraordinarily high. They selected a lower-priced contractor who parted ways late in the project due to aesthetic, infrastructure, and quality concerns.

“We said, ‘We’re doing high-end, not flipping a house,’” Smith says.

Glossy porcelain subway tile anchors the primary bath. The vanity surface is flat and painted high gloss, making it easy to clean.

Photography by Miranda Estes

Larson stepped in to arrange new subcontractors to finish the job properly, which is not a service many architects provide. “I became emotionally invested in the project,” Larson says. “These are people who put a lot of love into the world.”

Other dominoes have yet to fall. In an event an estimated 30 years in the making, a neighbor recently announced that he will be repainting his house. The new color is beige.

Most of the couple’s family and friends remain in Israel. The guest suite awaits. “You try to build your new life, but you never really detach from the old one,” Smith says.

The post Prismatic Palace appeared first on Seattle magazine.