Beginning a new design is thrilling for me; meeting my new clients, learning about the quirks of their particular house, realizing that I can help them.  For me, there is always a rush that is like....well, like new love.  Sure, that may be a little over the top.  But only a little.

The funny thing is that even after twenty five years, I never really know where the design will take me until I'm in the thick of it.  It's as though I sit down to sketch and the ideas just flow from the tip of the pen itself.  Its a bit of alchemy -- the ingredients are science, technology pshychology, philosphy and art, all mixing together to create architecture if the stars align just right.

That's not to say there is no method to it, for there is.  As you might expect, I begin by learning all about my clients and how they experience the house, both  inside and out.  Then my team always prepares a set of measured drawings of the house as it is.  But the magic doesn't really begin for me until I study those drawings.  Oddly, my mind seems more free to roam through the "virtual" house than it does the actual physical structure.

 And that's when it gets truly exiting for me.  Once the house is loaded into my "mind's eye" I can explore and wander in ways that I can never in the real world.  I can walk through walls.  Heck, I can pick up the walls and fling them around.  I can see the house as it is and as it might be, all at once. 

It's like having 3-D X-ray; I can visualize the entire frame of the house as though it were a skeleton beneath a skin of plaster.  I can see exactly why the house isn't working for it's owners and what strategic moves will radically improve it.  And I know then, how to surgically alter the house; where to open new views, where to bring in light, and where to add or subtract space. 

It's intoxicating and it's satisfying -- like love!

#2 IN AN OCCASIONAL SERIES

Well, I was up on the roof of that 1960's contemporary in Chevy Chase, MD again yesterday, and the problem is MUCH worse than I imagined.  In addition to water vapor questions, we now know that the roof is actively leaking at every skylight (there are ten) and at the chimney.

In every case, the problem is faulty "flashing" - the material (aluminum, copper or bituminous membrane) used to protect joints between the main roofing material and the various items that pass through the roof.  Now, I've seen a lot of roof problems over the years, but this beats them all, hands down. 

We cut test holes into the flashings and water just poured out.  Not a little trickle, but like when someone cuts an artery; the water spurted-out in streams.  In twenty five years as a residential architect, I've never seen such a total failure of roof flashing. 

This bears a quick note about flashing; in all roofing systems, flashing is inherently the the most vulnerable link because it manages the joint where the main roofing material is interrupted by something else -- like skylights, pipes, chimneys, etc.  Roofs rarely leak in the main body of the roof, but more often leak at these joints, where flashing is the primary defence.  Faulty flashing = leaky roof. 

And a word in defense of skylights:  to paraphrase the NRA, "Skylights don't leak on people -- People (installing bad flashing) leak on people".  Most modern skylights are so water-tight you could use one for a boat.  And properly designed and installed flashing WILL NOT LEAK.   So don't shy away from skylights; but DO invest in quality and make sure a true professional is in charge of specifying and supervising the installation.

Final thoughts... Do not hire a roofing contractor just because a friend had a good experience with them.  That's just putting your fate in the law of averages - and sometimes you'll wind up on the wrong side of that average.

Our client - a single female professional - purchased an old rambler on a hillside lot overlooking the Potomac River; but the house practically ignored the landscape. It made no attempt to take advantage of the extraordinary site - in fact this house could have been in a subdivision just about anywhere.

In expanding and re-considering the design of this home, we took the opportunity to create a cottage that reaches out into the landscape and enfolds the homeowner in nature. Ample windows and/or doors on at least two sides of each room provide panoramic views at every turn, while the mass of the house is broken-down into smaller components, ensuring that the house is "of" the hill rather than on it. It is a magical thing to float above the azaleas, among the trees.

Before & After: