Not long ago I worked with a couple to help them locate the site for their new house. They knew the general setting, but didn’t know exactly where it should be. I asked them to drive their van to a spot on the land that felt like the place to park. Once they did, I picked up two sticks, designating two gate posts, and asked them where the gateway to the entry yard might be. As I moved from side to side and back and forth, they told me if I was “warmer, or cooler” in response to when it felt like I was closer or farther from the right spot. They came to agreement on the precise location, and I planted the sticks in the ground to mark the spot. I then asked the husband to take a 5-minute hike while I worked with the wife to find the spot for the front door. With my arms up like goal posts, I walked in the direction of where the door might be. “Warmer, warmer…” Walking farther, she called out, “cooler, cooler… cold!! Come back!” I returned: “warmer, warmer, very warm…” then, “no, no, no — cooler! Walk back!” She could feel from a distance of about forty feet where the door felt just right – within a range of a couple feet back and forth and side to side. Then I asked her to imagine the angle of the side of the house facing her: straight on, or askew. We continued the warmer/cooler game as she felt the right orientation. I scuffed the ground with my foot to mark the spot. When her husband returned, I repeated the warmer/cooler game with him. Without knowing the position his wife determined, he felt his own “just-right spot”. To their surprise, it was virtually the same position! I asked them how they knew the location. “I don’t know, but I could feel it.”
I work with this game at every stage of the design process: determining the best height for a window sill, the most pleasing proportion for a room, the right color for a wall. This, or that? Warmer, or cooler? By asking these questions and pondering the answers, an overall sense of coherence and beauty is developed. It's a process of coaxing a house to sing.
Finding the warm spot that's "just-right" is the Beauty Mind at play. It’s not an esoteric experience available only to the most sensitive intuitive types; it is something we all know.
You engage this process when creating a centerpiece on the dining table, placing a picture on a wall, or deciding what tie or scarf to put on. These are all activities where you ponder multiple possibilities of what feels best: this or that? Next time, ask yourself, "does it feel warmer, or cooler?"
1.06.2008
1.01.2008
More Life, Less Life
In these two pictures, which one has more life? Which one has more feeling?
The red sofa is nestled near the window with sun streaming in. It’s red orange color seems to warm with its hue. The curtains soften the sunlight. On a sunny winter afternoon, it would be a cozy spot. During the summer the windows open wide to the breeze and the sound of the birds. The sofa and window make an intimate pair.
The second sitting spot also has windows with light streaming in. Somehow, though, it doesn’t seem to have a place to settle. It’s a bit too narrow, and there is no back to rest against. The window seat is appears like the first attempt at a good idea.
Here are two gables. Which one has more life?
The gable on the left has an extended eave, but the ornamental trim has an awkward scale and no dimension. I can imagine it may have looked pretty good on the CAD computer screen, but in real life it’s like a caricature of the real thing.
The gable on the right has an extended eave as well. The ornamented trim at the peak has several elements and layers to it. The vergeboard trim at the roof’s edge has three layers and an accent at the peak.
Look at the windows. They are both vinyl, with simulated divided lites and trim. The one on the left, however, has a snap-in grid pretending to be mullions; the one on the right has a fake mullion, too, but is more integral in it’s construction. All told, the gable on the right conveys more presence and feeling.
You may say, “it’s money that makes the difference.” The cost difference, though, is minor. The window selections are competitive. The materials, time and effort to craft the trim details are not significantly more with the gable on the right. What makes the difference is the willingness to ask, “what would give the gable life: this or that? Does this proportion feel better, or that? Would another layer add more life and vitality, or just make it cute?” These are questions of the Beauty Mind.
The way we perceive the life of a space or object is by feeling. It’s not a head thing. It’s like each of us has our own internal tuning fork that resonates in the presence of life.
Glossy photos in books and magazines can skew our perception of what we like and don’t like. Their marketing magic can put a fog over the Beauty Mind, making what they’re selling seem alluring, even if it doesn’t have much life. Try holding your tuning fork to pictures that you come across, especially the ones you’re attracted to. Try to perceive the resonant life within them. Your response may surprise your mind!
The red sofa is nestled near the window with sun streaming in. It’s red orange color seems to warm with its hue. The curtains soften the sunlight. On a sunny winter afternoon, it would be a cozy spot. During the summer the windows open wide to the breeze and the sound of the birds. The sofa and window make an intimate pair.
The second sitting spot also has windows with light streaming in. Somehow, though, it doesn’t seem to have a place to settle. It’s a bit too narrow, and there is no back to rest against. The window seat is appears like the first attempt at a good idea.
Here are two gables. Which one has more life?
The gable on the left has an extended eave, but the ornamental trim has an awkward scale and no dimension. I can imagine it may have looked pretty good on the CAD computer screen, but in real life it’s like a caricature of the real thing.
The gable on the right has an extended eave as well. The ornamented trim at the peak has several elements and layers to it. The vergeboard trim at the roof’s edge has three layers and an accent at the peak.
Look at the windows. They are both vinyl, with simulated divided lites and trim. The one on the left, however, has a snap-in grid pretending to be mullions; the one on the right has a fake mullion, too, but is more integral in it’s construction. All told, the gable on the right conveys more presence and feeling.
You may say, “it’s money that makes the difference.” The cost difference, though, is minor. The window selections are competitive. The materials, time and effort to craft the trim details are not significantly more with the gable on the right. What makes the difference is the willingness to ask, “what would give the gable life: this or that? Does this proportion feel better, or that? Would another layer add more life and vitality, or just make it cute?” These are questions of the Beauty Mind.
The way we perceive the life of a space or object is by feeling. It’s not a head thing. It’s like each of us has our own internal tuning fork that resonates in the presence of life.
Glossy photos in books and magazines can skew our perception of what we like and don’t like. Their marketing magic can put a fog over the Beauty Mind, making what they’re selling seem alluring, even if it doesn’t have much life. Try holding your tuning fork to pictures that you come across, especially the ones you’re attracted to. Try to perceive the resonant life within them. Your response may surprise your mind!
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