SURPRISE! Design That Makes For Double-Takes

Niches are a sure-fire
and very inexpensive way
to add interest to an interior.

It’s been said that the essence of beauty is a pattern containing fluctuations. In other words, the human mind likes to have a handle on an overall aesthetic pattern, but it also longs to be challenged by fluctuations or unexpected changes in that pattern. That’s where the element of surprise comes in. 

In architecture, surprise entails the use of unexpected spaces or elements. The real trick is knowing when to break the pattern—which isn’t as simple as it sounds. A design full of nothing but odd and unexpected elements won’t be seen as beautiful, but rather as simply disorienting or bizarre. Rather, a good designer gives us an unexpected fluctuation just when we think we’ve figured things out--keeping the expected pattern always at hand as a reference point, and only then deviating from it.

Here are some ways to add surprise to your own architecture:

An unexpected dormer window
adds new interest to what would have
been a standard-issue vaulted ceiling.

•  Add unexpected forms, recesses, or features. Something as simple as a niche in a hallway can provide interest to an otherwise routine space. For example, homes of the 1920s often featured a small arched recess off of the entry containing a set of doorbell chimes. These kinds of touches are inexpensive, but can go a long way toward making a space more memorable.

•  Vary floor levels. Break out of the two-dimensional mold of conventional floor plans by including raised or sunken areas. Overlooks from higher to lower levels are also an excellent way to add interest, for just as people like to explore, they also like seeing where they’ve been. Especially effective are overlooks where they’re least expected--from bedrooms or other upstairs spaces.     

A few steps can make a big difference. Imagine how
bland this room arrangement would be without them.

•  Vary ceiling height. Ceilings can also frequently benefit from breaking out of the two-dimensional doldrums. Once again, contrast is the key:  Very low ceilings can be intentionally oppressive and claustrophobic, while high ones give a great sensation of spaciousness and release. Hence, a narrow, low-ceilinged passage that unexpectedly open into a will a huge, soaring space wrings the maximum possible drama from this transition.  

•  Introduce unexpected views. Asian designers have long utilized the technique of “framing” a view from selected places within a room, rather than exposing the entire wall of the room to it as we often do in the West. They recognize that, just as we grow inured to the sound of ocean waves, we soon grow numb to even the most beautiful view if we’re constantly exposed to it. Framing a view has the effect of renewing our appreciation for it, so that it remains a recurrently delightful surprise to the senses. 

The "zen view" is a refreshing alternative
to the usual Western practice of
pounding people over the head with a good view.
The fact that it's limited renews our appreciation.

•  Use mirrors to make spaces look bigger and more dramatic. Integrate them into the architecture so they’re not just hung on the wall like a picture. Try using mirrors at the backs of niches, above high wainscots, or in places where they’ll reflect columns or other architectural features—that way, you get two features for the price of one. Just don’t place mirrors where confused people might run into them.  That’s not the kind of surprise you’re after.

MYSTERY IN ARCHITECTURE: Or, What's Up There?

Come on, admit it—
you'd like to know what's up there.

How many of us, as kids, could resist the temptation to climb the stairs in a strange house to see what was “up there”? Now that we’re grown, we suppress these kinds of urges for the sake of propriety, but they still exist in our subconscious minds, and can be drawn upon quite subtly by a clever designer.  

In architecture, spaces which draw on the human sense of curiosity are said to have mystery--they foster the creation of drama or suspense by alluding to architectural spaces or features while keeping them partially concealed.   

Mystery can subtly entice us toward a particular space. Let’s suppose there are two hollow eight-foot-square cubes about ten feet away from you.  The front of one is open, so that the interior is completely visible.  The front of the other has only a two-foot-square aperture at the center, so that the interior is largely concealed. Which cube will attract you more?  

Not much mystery here—practically the whole house
can be taken in at a glance. Ho hum.

Most people will approach the enclosed cube precisely because they can’t see what’s inside. Likewise, an architectural space that’s immediately comprehensible presents little challenge to the mind—it simply isn’t as interesting as a space that keeps us guessing. And although entertainment is not a designer’s primary charge, an intriguing space is inevitably more memorable than one that simply functions.  

Here are a few ways to evoke a sense of mystery in your own designs:

Hmm—how do I get up there?

•  Allude to the destination.  For example, the head of a staircase often disappears up the stairwell so that we can’t see its termination. Yet the presence of the staircase obviously implies a space above and arouses our curiosity. If the destination is obvious, it holds much less interest—we already know what’s “up there”.   

Small interior balconies and other openings opening into a room can also  hint at the existence of spaces beyond. This entices the viewer to reach them, all the more so if the means of access isn’t obvious.   

Architect David Adler's
Lasker House, Chicago (1925):
What's around the corner?
What's through that doorway?

•  Provide tantalizing glimpses of rooms or areas in the home, rather than making them obvious. A room that immediately reveals itself is disappointing to the mind’s sense of curiosity. By carefully considering sightlines during the planning stages, you can control the views from one room into the next, so that the spaces unfold in an intentional and effective order.  Columns and screen walls can also be used to alternately reveal and then conceal the destination without “giving away the store”. 

•  Manipulate light levels. Here, contrast is the key to creating mystery or drama. Try to play light against dark--the effect of a bright, sunlit room will be redoubled if it’s approached from a dark and mysterious one, and vice versa.  A uniformly bright or uniformly dark series of spaces will lack this counterpoint.  

At night, dimmers can help provide dramatic artificial lighting. Indirect lighting is especially effective in creating a subdued or mysterious effect. Of course, bright light should always be available when needed for cleaning and maintenance. 

Do use these techniques with a bit of restraint. Subtlety, not theatrics, is the key to creating mystery.   

THE GREENEST WAY TO BUILD: Use Stuff That Already Exists

During the 1950s and 60s, when
Victorian architecture was held in
contempt, many an interior like this one
met the wrecking ball.

Unlike Europe, the United States has never had many reservations about demolishing its old buildings to make way for the new.  The vast array of exquisite materials squandered during the Modernist era— when ornamentation was held in contempt—could make a grown person cry. After World War II, countless Victorian homes filled with ornately-milled hardwoods, marble, leaded and colored glass, brass and bronze were blithely destroyed to make way for the sedate, blank surfaces of the “new” age. 

Nowadays, any green designer or builder worth his salt recognizes the value of quality salvaged items. Yet ironically, long before the green movement, it was wrecking contractors who first saw value in such items.  Over the years, their equipment yards became stockpiled with items hastily stripped from old homes in the last bleak hours before the Caterpillars arrived. These stockpiles eventually grew into organized salvage yards featuring a huge array of architectural materials.   

With money as scarce as it is today, many remodelers have turned to salvaged materials as a way to save a few bucks. And rightly so: If you know what to buy and what to avoid, the salvalvage items can be a real bargain. With luck, you may even come across an architectural treasure or two. Don’t expect perfection, however; remember that these items have already lived one lifetime. Consider a chip or scratch here and there as a badge of honor. 

All these windows once graced the interior
of someone's old house. The lease we can do
is to give them a second life.
(Photo courtesy jinkwillis.com)

Probably the most useful salvage buys are metallic items like high-quality cabinet hardware, railings, escutcheons, grilles, scutcheons, grilles,  They’re easily stripped of paint and reused, and their quality is generally far higher than similar items you can buy today.  Also worth searching out are fireplace mantels and other stone or marble items that are very expensive purchased new.   

Panel doors can also be a bargain as long as they’re in good condition. Except for really one-of-a-kind items, though, don’t bother buying doors that are badly weathered or otherwise damaged; repairing them simply isn’t cost effective. Also, try to use salvaged doors in new openings made especially for them, not in existing openings. Modifying old doors to fit an existing opening (or vice versa) can be a real headache.  

Salvage yards frequently have leaded or colored glass windows, too. Many have interesting muntin patterns or

Knobs, anyone? You won't
find ones of this quality
at the local Big Orange.

unusual shapes, and can fit nicely into remodeling plans.  However, the more mundane types of double-hung or casement windows are seldom worth buying for new construction (nor will they usually meet modern energy codes). By the time you’ve gotten them properly refinished and in smooth working condition, you’ll wish you’d simply bought a new window.  Save your rehab efforts for windows that are worth the time.

Salvaged plumbing fixtures must also be approached with caution.  Many old toilets, for example, are difficult to connect and few will comply with modern water-conservation standards. Pedestal sinks, on the other hand, are easily retrofitted with modern water-conserving faucets, and are often a bargain. Avoid the cast iron variety and look for the higher-quality chinaware type, however.

THE INTERNATIONAL STYLE: What Went Wrong?

It’s now been over a century since the once-flourishing school of design known as the International Style represented the highest hopes of modernist architecture. Though it fell far short of its expectations, it did leave us a valuable lesson: that even the most learned of good intentions can’t always make for a humane environment. 

The buildings of Walter Gropius's Bauhuas school,
completed in Dessau, Germany in 1926.

The International Style was really more of a social philosophy than a style. Its roots reach back to post-World War I Europe, where widespread social problems convinced many architects that a revolutionary change in architecture was in order. To them, this meant discarding every trace of the historically-based styles of the past, and replacing them with a completely “modern” architecture. 

The most famous proponent of these radical views was a German school of design known as the Bauhaus. By the late Twenties, the Bauhaus was proposing austere new forms of architecture meant to provide the masses with clean, dignified housing, workplaces, and civic buildings. At the same time, they theorized, these buildings would raise the moral and spiritual levels of their occupants.  

The Bauhaus rejected ornament as a useless trapping of the elite and replaced it with the so-called "machine aesthetic", producing  buildings that were intentionally stark and severe.  Traditional pitched roofs were discarded in favor of flat roofs with little or no overhang.  Windows were replaced by great walls of glass that frequently couldn’t be opened, and walls were left plain and invariably painted an antiseptic white. Such designs soon began to find favor throughout Europe.

Philip Johnson's famed Glass House in
New Canaan, Connecticut in 1949.

After World War II, American architects such as Philip Johnson also became hooked by the refreshingly different International Style, hailing it as the only “honest” form of architecture. Johnson’s austere “glass house” in New Canaan, Connecticut and a handful of homes by other architects quickly became widely-copied International Style paradigms.  

The style’s largely theoretical basis was lampooned by opponents such as Frank Lloyd Wright, who once skewered the famed International Style modernist Le Corbusier with the comment, “Well, now that he's finished one building, he'll go write four books about it.”   

Nevertheless, hack architects and tract builders rushed to copy International Style homes.  Their abence of ornament made them cheap to build, and they had the cachet of newness.  By the Fifties, such houses, dubbed “flat-tops” by their detractors, were appearing everywhere. 

But problems appeared just as quickly.  The unshaded glass walls either admitted too much sun and made the houses unbearably hot, or else allowed vast amounts of heat to escape in winter.  The minimal areas of solid wall made them more vulnerable to earthquake damage.  And after all the futurist hype died down, most people found the stark, undecorated architecture predictable and oppressive.  

Alas, in the hands of less able practitioners,
much International Style design ended up
looking like this.

What went wrong? One problem was that the International Style's roots were foreign, and were seldom suited to United States’ climate or lifestyle. Worse, it was a movement based on academic theory rather than time-tested architectural evolution.  And most ironic: Because its clean functionalism lent itself to austerity, it was too often copied by architects and builders who passed off miserly design as Modern design, leaving us a legacy of mediocre buildings. 

These problems spelled the eventual doom of the International Style.  Like many things, it worked better in theory than in fact. Good intentions were simply not enough. 

CHOOSE YOUR FOLLY

The Temple of Apollo, one of Henry Hoare's
follies in the garden of Stourhead.

How about an obelisk in your garden? Or a sun temple? Or a dripping, moss-covered grotto? The garden of one famous English estate boasted all of these features and more. It was called Stourhead, and these architectural elements, called follies, were artfully placed along a meandering circular path nearly two miles long. The garden and its follies were designed in 1744 by an amateur landscape designer with the unenviable name of Henry Hoare.   

A folly  is an architectural structure in the landscape that exists for no reason other than to add interest. Follies were all the rage in English gardens of the late 1700s, when they were an integral part of an architecture and landscape design movement known as the Picturesque. The movement espoused pretty much what you might guess—designs were meant to be artfully composed and, well, pretty as a picture. Stourhead was in fact literally based upon a landscape painting by Claude Lorrain done a century earlier 

Spooky, no? A gaping mouth is among the many
unusual follies in Italy's Bomarzo Gardens,
dating from the sixteenth century. 

Alas, most gardens don’t have room for Stourhead’s highly creative follies. But a folly doesn’t need a lot of room to be effective. The same design elements that worked for Hoare and others during the golden age of English landscape design can still be used to lend Picturesque elements to your own garden.

•  Gazebos are a time-honored garden folly.  Whether square, octagonal, or round, they make a fine endpoint for a garden path.  .

Try looking beyond the usual 4x4-and-latticework construction — the more exotic the design, the better.  Gazebo designs of a century ago featured everything from unpeeled logs to river rock to iron columns and onion domes. In fact, the whole point of a folly is to go a little nuts.

•  A bridge can form the centerpiece of a garden with suitable terrain.  It can cross either a dry rockbed or actual water.  The scale needn’t be large; look at some of the diminutive bridges found in Japanese landscape architecture.  It’s just the act of crossing from one side to the other that engages people’s interest.  

Do make sure that the bridge actually crosses something (not just flat ground).  Even more important, make sure that there’s something worth reaching on the other side—another folly, perhaps, or just a bench on which to sit and enjoy the surroundings. 

•  Small fountains or pools can add immeasurably to the pleasure of a garden.  Besides mere 

Grottoes were another favorite folly. This
shell-encrusted 18th century example is at
Mount Edgecumbe Country Park in
Cornwall, England.

appearance, the soothing sound, cool touch, and refreshing smell of water are a banquet for the senses. For this reason, famed gardens such as Stourhead contained whole networks of artificial ponds and creeks. But a tiny garden can benefit from water as well. You don’t need a torrent—even a small basin fed by a trickle of water can transform a garden into an oasis of tranquility.

•  Other follies are limited only by your imagination—Stourhead’s obelisk, for example, was a scaled-down version of a monumental Egyptian form.  Locate follies at natural stopping points in the garden or where they frame a vista or a favorite plant. Nor does a folly need to be monumental; even something as simple as a bench, bird bath, or sundial can effectively add an unexpected element to the landscape.   

FRONT DOOR FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Many entrance locksets look more or less like this one.
They don't all have the same solid feel, however.
This happens to be the real deal from Baldwin Brass.

Even in their cheapest homes, tract builders will usually spring for a good quality door and lockset at the front entrance. Why? Because marketing studies have demonstrated that a good solid-feeling front door leaves an impression of quality that carries over throughout the house.  Developers refer to this sometimes-illusory impression of quality as “perceived value”. 

Whether illusory or not, the same trick can work for your own home. You may not have the budget to install hardwood panel doors or top-quality lockset(what most people refer to as "doorknobs") throughout your house; that could run to many hundreds of dollars per door. But chances are you can afford a good-quality front door and, even more important, a first-rate entrance lockset. 

If your house has an old, substantial lockset that doesn't
quite work right, for God's sake, fix it,
don't replace it.

Many prewar homes have beautiful front doors equipped with really substantial locksets. If you’re lucky enough to still have yours, for God's sake, don’t replace it. Any decent finish carpenter can repair a sagging or scraping front door fairly easily. Likewise, a balky lockset can be taken to a locksmith for repair. 

On the other hand, if your is flimsy, uninteresting, or truly beyond repair, consider replacement.  The choice of door designs (and price ranges) is vast. However, most entrance doors fall into one of three basic categories: Steel, fiberglass, and wood.  The price variations between common versions of each are surprisingly small, so choose them on merit, not cost.  

This fiber glass door is practically
a dead ringer for wood,
and it'll never warp or rot.

Steel doors won’t warp--the main reason they’re marketed for residential use.  Many also have good insulative value. On the down side, they can rust and dent, and many are embossed with grossly exaggerated woodgrain patterns that aren’t very convincing on close inspection. 

Fiberglass doors combine the warp-resistance of steel with excellent insulative value and a much more realistic woodgrain look.  They can be planed and sanded, and are designed to accept either paint or stain (although the staining procedure is different than for wood).  A carefully finished fiberglass door presents a fairly convincing copy of wood, while requiring less maintenance over time.

Still, nothing has quite the heft of a solid wood door. Genuine wood presents a look and feel of quality that neither steel nor fiber glass can match—one reason the latter products are so anxious to imitate it. Yet wood doors do have their drawbacks, including susceptibility to warpage and rot, so-so energy efficiency, and a need for vigilant maintenance. 

A mansion or just a regular house with a nice door?
From here, who can tell?

Once you’ve found a door that suits you, think about investing a good-quality entrance lockset.  There are lots of manufacturers to choose from, but only a handful make truly first class products. Look for quality locksets at better hardware and lumber dealers, and ask a sales assistant for help. Many styles are available with matching door knockers, doorbell escutcheons, and the like. Because not all finishes are always in stock, you may have to order a few weeks in advance. And be prepared to pay several hundred dollars for a decent-quality entrance lockset, and more for paired doors.

At these prices, you’ll be sorely tempted to buy a cheaper lockset that “looks just the same”. Don't fall for this ruse; I guarantee that it won’t feel the same, or last the same. Remember what builders have known for decades: you don’t get a second chance to make a first impression. 

MAKING A GRAND ENTRANCE

Have you ever been to a house where you had to skirt the gas meter or sidle around garbage cans to get to the front door? Or one where there was such a bewildering array of doors, you weren’t sure which one to knock at?

There's no doubt where the front door is

on this elegant Colonial style home.

The front entrance is seldom very high on people’s remodeling priorities. Yet, just like that old saw about first impressions, it’s your home’s entrance that people notice first. It’s practically impossible to rectify a bad impression made at the front door. Tract-home builders have known this for years—even in the cheapest house, they’ll never cut corners on the front door. They know that a strong impression of quality here subtly colors a visitor’s perception of the whole house.

For much of architectural history, front entrances have been a focal point of a home’s design. In Colonial New England, for example, the front door was often flanked by sidelights and topped by a pediment, setting it apart from an otherwise austere facade. The front door in Victorian homes was often reached by a dramatically broad set of steps, and in bungalow homes, it was dramatically framed by that ubiquitous front porch carried on tapered columns.  

Bungalow-era architects loved to use elaborate

porches to call attention to the front entrance.

All of these design strategies ensure that the entrance is clearly apparent from the street. That doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s glaringly exposed to view—just that its location is obvious to an unfamiliar passerby. Architects call this principle “demarcation”. 

There are lots of subtle ways to demarcate a front entrance.  The most common is to surround the door with an architectural form such as a pediment or other type of trim—as in the Colonial-style example above. Another traditional strategy places the door in a recess, on a projection, or under a roofed porch, as was common in bungalow homes.  

Don't force people to walk on the driveway

to get to your front door. Give people on foot

their own approach from the sidewalk.

Don’t consider any remodel complete unless you’ve given your front entrance its due. Here are some planning tips:

•  Don’t place an unsheltered entrance door flush with the front wall of the house; it’ll create an unwelcoming “side door” or  trailer-door effect. 

• Don’t bring the path to the front door past utilities such as gas or electric meters, or past unsightly storage areas for trash or the like. Keep these kinds of features out of the visitor’s line of sight.

• Don’t force visitors to walk on a driveway to get to your front door. Provide a separate walking path, or at least set aside a portion of the driveway paving using a different color or texture so it’s clearly meant just for those on foot.

You can make porch steps too narrow, but

you can't make them too wide. Six feet wide

 is minimum; more is better.

•  If you plan to provide a covered entrance porch, make it at least six feet wide—enough for a person to stretch out both arms without touching either wall. Anything less will feel cramped and uncomfortable. Also, make the porch at least four feet deep (six feet is better), or it’ll feel cramped when more than one person is waiting outside the front door.  A cheaper alternative to building a projecting porch is simply to recess the front door. Again, make the recess at least six feet wide, and not less than two feet deep. 

• Lastly, if your house has several doors facing the street, make sure your front approach aims your visitors toward the main entrance. Your front door may seem obvious to you, but that's probably because you live there.