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We have the guy up the hill doing our finish carpentry for us. It's ironic that they call it "finish" when it's the one thing that so many people building their own homes never actually do finish. The temptation to let it go is extreme. But I know how that ends: some day, you decide to sell the house, and race around trying to get things like that wrapped up before showing it. It turns out absolutely gorgeous, so you are bitter about having to leave it behind, and extra-super-bitter about having never been able to enjoy it when you could have. Not to mention having to pay more for it because you had to get it all done at the last minute. So I will be god-damned if we are going to spend half a million bucks to live in a house without door frames and baseboards. Not. Going. To. Happen.
It was originally John's project, and he was doing a lovely job of it, but "three months" turned into three years, and he finally agreed it was time to hire it out. There are some tricky fittings involved, since the original builder, as a "favor", gave us an "upgrade" to heavier wallboard late in the project. Knowning, at the time, he wouldn't be responsible for finish carpentry. So the window frames and wallboard surfaces have an "interesting" relationship to each other. (Another example of why specialization in home-building tasks is killing architecture. But I digress.) The nice thing about our trim, which is a careful reproduction of classic Craftsman proportions of the 1920s, is that it's very forgiving of sloppy carpentry and defects in the wood. It strikes a nice balance between formal and rustic. But it does take a huge amount of work, since it's not like you can go buy it all at Home Depot. Everything has to be done by hand.
Brandon is super-efficient and organized, and is doing a great job in both quality and speed. The material we're using is all milled-to-order, slightly wonky pine planks, and he has to spend a lot of time on the router table carving out their backsides. Many experiments with stain had established that a coat of Minwax in red chestnut, then a coat of brown chestnut, followed by a firm polishing, exactly replicates the look of 19th century timber. Try doing that on three hundred pieces, though, and it gets pretty darned tedious.
Our design choices have been wildly successful. Walking into some of the almost-completed rooms, like the small guest room, just takes my breath away. We picked a lot of daring paint colors, ones which make no sense whatsoever without the heavy, dark framing needed to offset them. So I've spent several years feeling vaguely embarrassed by certain rooms, and having to explain to guests that "it's not done yet". To see these far-out colors finally vindicated by a complete installation - and to feel their lush, gorgeous richness right into my bones - aah, that is a wonderful thing. Without spending a whole lot of money, we've achieved a sense of luxury and refinement without even a hint of tackiness.
The weirdest room is the little half guest bathroom, which is split in two by a solid wood door. Behind the door is a little square space containing only a toilet and a cabinet, and it's painted dark purple. A small, creepy portrait of an evil-looking woman, in tones of bilious green, looks down at your junk with a cackling half-smile. It's a space for deep contemplation about life's darkest secrets. Now that it's getting done up with this heavy, heavy framing, which practically turns it into a dungeon, it's finally becoming the intense, vaguely pervy space I have always wanted it to be. I have realized that the final step is going to be adjusting the exhaust fan, placing some sort of color filter over its built-in fluorescent lamp, and adding some halogen spots so as to make the toilet glow with an otherworldly light. The challenge will be to illuminate the majesty of those who stand, without dazzling the eyes of those who sit.
I feel vaguely guilty about how I could be doing this work myself, and downright lame-assed when Brandon is racing doing his thing and I'm just smoking weed or farting around on the computer or something. But rationally speaking, it is nuts for me to do something I have no talent for, leaving him unemployed, when instead I can be making money at something I'm good at and handing over just a part of it for his efforts. Since he just became a father for the first time, I think he really appreciates being able to work for cash right here on the ranch. He's so unlike a lot of young men these days - smart, fast, strong, lots of energy and drive. I think he's going to be a fantastically successful construction mogul some day.
Anyway, you'll get pictures when it's all done. Stay tuned.
It was originally John's project, and he was doing a lovely job of it, but "three months" turned into three years, and he finally agreed it was time to hire it out. There are some tricky fittings involved, since the original builder, as a "favor", gave us an "upgrade" to heavier wallboard late in the project. Knowning, at the time, he wouldn't be responsible for finish carpentry. So the window frames and wallboard surfaces have an "interesting" relationship to each other. (Another example of why specialization in home-building tasks is killing architecture. But I digress.) The nice thing about our trim, which is a careful reproduction of classic Craftsman proportions of the 1920s, is that it's very forgiving of sloppy carpentry and defects in the wood. It strikes a nice balance between formal and rustic. But it does take a huge amount of work, since it's not like you can go buy it all at Home Depot. Everything has to be done by hand.
Brandon is super-efficient and organized, and is doing a great job in both quality and speed. The material we're using is all milled-to-order, slightly wonky pine planks, and he has to spend a lot of time on the router table carving out their backsides. Many experiments with stain had established that a coat of Minwax in red chestnut, then a coat of brown chestnut, followed by a firm polishing, exactly replicates the look of 19th century timber. Try doing that on three hundred pieces, though, and it gets pretty darned tedious.
Our design choices have been wildly successful. Walking into some of the almost-completed rooms, like the small guest room, just takes my breath away. We picked a lot of daring paint colors, ones which make no sense whatsoever without the heavy, dark framing needed to offset them. So I've spent several years feeling vaguely embarrassed by certain rooms, and having to explain to guests that "it's not done yet". To see these far-out colors finally vindicated by a complete installation - and to feel their lush, gorgeous richness right into my bones - aah, that is a wonderful thing. Without spending a whole lot of money, we've achieved a sense of luxury and refinement without even a hint of tackiness.
The weirdest room is the little half guest bathroom, which is split in two by a solid wood door. Behind the door is a little square space containing only a toilet and a cabinet, and it's painted dark purple. A small, creepy portrait of an evil-looking woman, in tones of bilious green, looks down at your junk with a cackling half-smile. It's a space for deep contemplation about life's darkest secrets. Now that it's getting done up with this heavy, heavy framing, which practically turns it into a dungeon, it's finally becoming the intense, vaguely pervy space I have always wanted it to be. I have realized that the final step is going to be adjusting the exhaust fan, placing some sort of color filter over its built-in fluorescent lamp, and adding some halogen spots so as to make the toilet glow with an otherworldly light. The challenge will be to illuminate the majesty of those who stand, without dazzling the eyes of those who sit.
I feel vaguely guilty about how I could be doing this work myself, and downright lame-assed when Brandon is racing doing his thing and I'm just smoking weed or farting around on the computer or something. But rationally speaking, it is nuts for me to do something I have no talent for, leaving him unemployed, when instead I can be making money at something I'm good at and handing over just a part of it for his efforts. Since he just became a father for the first time, I think he really appreciates being able to work for cash right here on the ranch. He's so unlike a lot of young men these days - smart, fast, strong, lots of energy and drive. I think he's going to be a fantastically successful construction mogul some day.
Anyway, you'll get pictures when it's all done. Stay tuned.
