Introduction
The idea of a Not So Big House,a house that favors the qualityof its space over the quantity,has evolved during the 15 yearsI've practiced architecture inthe Twin Cities. Maybe it wasthe 1980s that created what I call the "startercastle" complex--the notionthat houses should be designedto impress rather than nurture.More rooms, bigger spaces, andvaulted ceilings do not necessarilygive us what we need in ahome. And when the impulsefor big spaces is combined withoutdated patterns of homedesign and building, the resultis more often than not a housethat doesn't work.
When my husband and I, both of us architects,were planning our new house, we knew that wewanted a home that would inspire us and make thebest use of the money we had to spend. Whateverwe ended up with, we wanted our house to expressthe way we actually live. We started the planningprocess by considering an addition to our two-story1904 four-square. We're not formal people, and theseparation between kitchen and living space meantthat we spent all our time in the kitchen--the tiniestroom in the house. To change that, however, wewould have had to add more space, which wouldhave made our house bigger while leaving half ofit still unused. That option didn't seem sensible. Infact, it seemed downright wasteful.
I quickly realized that our oldhouse was designed for a patternof life that was fundamentallydifferent from the way we livetoday. So we decided to designour own house--which wouldbe Not So Big--with each spacein use every day. And it wouldbe beautiful. I've designed bighouses that are beautiful andsmall houses that had tightbudgets; I wanted our houseto combine the beauty of the big house with theefficiency of the small one. Rather than spend ourbudget on square footage we wouldn't use, we decidedto put the money toward making the housean expression of our personalities.
We knew that by building such a house we wouldbe going out on a limb, because the institutions thatdictate the value and resale of houses demand allthe extra spaces that we knew we would never use.When we met with the banker and explained thatour new house would have no formal dining room,he was dubious. But as I described to him my frustrationwith designing large houses with rarely usedformal spaces, and my vision to put forward a differenthome model into the marketplace, his demeanorcompletely changed. Suddenly, he was telling usabout his own house, a suburban Colonial, andadmitting that in 25 years his family had never satin the living room. They lived in their family room.The banker, who at first appeared to be our biggestobstacle, became our strongest advocate.
So we built our house, and along the way manyof the ideas that had been percolating in my subconsciouscame into being. I began to speak locallyand nationally about the concept of the Not So BigHouse and found an extraordinary amount of confirmationfrom audiences. Even realtors, who perpetuatethe conventional wisdom of resale requirements,were excited by the concept of building NotSo Big. In fact, two realtors--a husband and wifeteam--approached me after one lecture and askedthat I design a Not So Big House for them.
This book contains the work of more than 35architects and related professionals who I have hadthe privilege of working with in our architecturalfirm in Minnesota. These colleagues have workedwith more than 3,000 residential clients over thepast 15 years. As a result of all this work, we getto see the aspirations, the struggles, the needs, andthe realities of people who want new or remodeledhomes. Architects build dreams, but we also haveto help clients reconcile those dreams with realbudgets. A house that favors quality of design overquantity of space satisfies people with big dreamsand not so big budgets far more so than a house withthose characteristics in reverse.
It's time for a different kind of house. A house thatis more than square footage; a house that is Not SoBig, where each room is used every day. A house witha floorplan inspired by our informal lifestyle insteadof the way our grandparents lived. A house for thefuture that embraces a few well-worn concepts fromthe past. A house that expresses our values and ourpersonalities. It's time for the Not So Big House.
The Not So Big House isn't just a small house.Rather, it's a smaller house, filled with special detailsand designed to accommodate the lifestyles of itsoccupants. I've discovered living in my own Not SoBig House that the quality of my life has improved.I'm surrounded in my home by beautiful forms, lotsof daylight, natural materials, and the things that Ilove. Our house fits us perfectly and is unabashedlycomfortable. My house feeds my spirit, and it is withthis insight that I share with you how to make yourhouse do the same.
Chapter One
BIGGER ISN'T BETTER
"Not everything that can be counted
counts, and not everything that counts
can be counted."--Albert Einstein
So many houses, so big with so little soul. Our suburbs are filledwith houses that are bigger than ever. But are bigger houses reallybetter? Are the dreams that build them bigger, or is it simply thatthere seems to be no alternative? Americans are searching forhome in unprecedented numbers. Yet when we look, the only tools we seemto have are those we find in the real estate listings. But a house ismore than square footage and the number of beds and baths. In one of thewealthiest societies ever, many people are deeply dissatisfied withtheir most expensive purchase. Which is where Paul and Laura come in.
I had just completed a lecture at our local Home and Garden Show. As Istepped from the podium, I was greeted by several members of the audience whowanted to thank me for saying something they hadn't heard before--that weneed to value quality over quantity in house design. There was a couple in thecrowd with a story about their own experience, a story that gave me the impetusto write this book. As they approached me, I saw tears in thewoman's eyes.
"We want you to come to our new house and tell us whatyou think," she said. "We just built it. We spent over $500,000on it and we hate it. It's just not us at all. After listening toyou, we think ..." She paused and looked at her husband, whonodded. "We know that we have to start over. All we've got issquare footage with no soul. We want the type of house thatyou describe. Can you help us?"
The next week, I drove out to the suburbs to see the house,past row after row of enormous structures covering the newlydeveloped hillsides. These houses loomed in their treeless sites,staring blankly out toward vistas of more of the same. I felt asthough I was driving through a collection of massive storagecontainers for people.
Paul and Laura's house was fairly typical of new, large subdivisionhomes. It had the required arched window topping offa soaring front entrance scaled more for an office building thana home. Inside the house, Iwas greeted by an enormousspace, all white, with a coldmarble floor. There was noseparation between this vaultingfoyer and the next room,which I assumed must be thefamily room, although therewas no furniture in it (see thephoto on p. 10). Laura usheredme into the kitchen,which was also oversized andmade up of all hard surfacesthat gave it the acoustics of a parking garage.
She and Paul explained to me that until a year before, theyhad lived in the city, in a small, older home. Although theyliked the house, their three boys were growing up quickly, andthey were starting to feel cramped for space. The house had nofamily room, so the kids didn't have a place to be rambunctious.The couple found a piece of property they loved. The lotwas owned by a builder, who made it clear as part of the termsof sale that he would be the one to build the home. Theythought this would be fine--they didn't know any otherbuilders and this one had a good reputation.
The builder showed them his portfolio of plans andexplained that they could choose any one of them. Althoughthey weren't particularly enamored with any of the plans, theypicked the one that seemed to have the rooms they needed inthe right relationships to one another: kitchen opening intofamily room, formal living room separated from family room toallow kids some space to playaway from mom and dad.
It wasn't until the housewas actually under constructionthat the feeling of uneasinessbegan to set in. Asthe framing proceeded, theheights of the spaces becameclear, as did the proportions ofeach room. "All the rooms justseemed huge," said Laura.
They asked to make somechanges, such as loweringsome ceiling heights and dividing a room in two to make eacha more manageable scale. But such changes would be veryexpensive at this stage in the process, the builder explained,promising that, "When the house is done, you'll love it."However, the house didn't get better, and when it was finished,it was clear to both of them that they felt no affinity for it.It seemed ostentatious to them. The scale of each room wasoverwhelming.
Laura took me upstairs to show me the master bathroom."Look at this," she exclaimed, "our previous bedroom wasn'teven this size!" Although the couple now faulted themselvesfor being naive, they were simply following the process that isstandard to working with a builder and selecting from a stockset of plans. They were not offered an opportunity for inputinto the design. And they didn't know how to ask for or givethe feedback necessary to make it an expression of theirlifestyle and their values. Like many people building a newhouse, Paul and Laura didn't have the words to describe whatthey wanted, nor did they realize how important it was to haveinput into the "feel" of the house. If a builder hears that a homebuyer wants a spacious family room, he reasonably assumes thatthey are asking for a BIG family room. To Paul and Laura,almost anything would have seemed spacious compared totheir previous home.
The outcome was that Paul and Laura had built a $500,000house that was nowhere close to their dream of home. Afterspending almost three times the value of their previous house,they were deeply unhappy. They told me they felt no desire tomake the house their own by furnishing it or personalizing it inany way. Their story was horrifying to me. And even morealarming is the fact that Paul and Laura are not alone. Over thelast couple of years, more and more people who have lived inthese impersonal, oversized houses have come to our office andasked, "Is there an alternative? Can you design us a house thatis more beautiful and more reflective of our personalities--ahouse we will enjoy living in?"
The answer is, of course, yes. And the key lies in buildingNot So Big, in spending more money on the quality of thespace and less on the sheer quantity of it. So this book is forPaul and Laura and for everyone like them, whether buildingfrom scratch or remodeling, who wants a special home thatexpresses something significant about their lives and values butwho doesn't know how to get it.
Continues...
Excerpted from The Not So Big Houseby Sarah Susanka Copyright © 2001 by Sarah Susanka. Excerpted by permission.
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