Making a House a Home: Part III - The Tease

One week done, six to go...

I ended up selecting a plan that was very similar to the original layout with a few significant changes. We kept appliances where they were because that part worked and because it saved a good deal of money.

But, I wanted to have the kitchen relate to the adjacent family room in a better way. When the grandkids come over that's where they play and the adults drink wine. So the wall between the two rooms had to go. That created a cavalcade of additional stuff (read cost) like engineering, beams, and flooring.

Click on image for larger view.

There was also a powder room off the kitchen that would have been just odd to leave alone so that got swept up into the plan. And there was a weird door configuration such that two, uncased openings leading into the kitchen were right next to each other. Joe suggested we close the one into the dining room and move it closer to the family room. Excellent idea! Before, it bugged the hell out of me that people sitting at the dining room table had a lovely, direct, view into my dirty pots and pans.

 The most amazing transformation (other than all of it) was Joe's idea to create a wall of windows looking out to my back yard, which is basically a forest. I couldn't wait for any and all of this to happen.

It's still hard for me to imagine this is how it used to look. The wall
on the right would eventually go. Bye-bye wall.

There were many meetings. Lots of budgets. Updated plans and updated budgets. I had homework to do selecting finishes and fixtures and appliances. We planned for a mid-July/early-August start. I don't remember exactly why it got difficult on my end but Joe's life got complicated too. At one of our planning meetings he broached the possibility of splitting the project: doing the outdoor work in the summer as planned and finishing up the interior come January. What a great happenstance that we were both hoping for the same change!

Transformative. It already changed the way I used my kitchen!

So come mid-September, the first huge transformation happened. Joe blew out the back wall and brought nature into my kitchen. I lost a cabinet but other than that the kitchen was the same. The effect was enormous! The first day I came down after the window and slider were installed I just stood there for a good half an hour saying, "amazing!" And it was.

Can't wait until January!

Next: It wouldn't be a remodel without some unexpected stress, right? Part IV - What's Really Important?

Making a House a Home: Part II - The Wonky Part That Wasn't

Concept, planning, process...all those iterations and jokes around the kitchen table.

In January of last year I stumbled upon the singularly most important element of my new kitchen, Joe Cracco of Modern Yankee Builders out of Cumberland, Rhode Island. Yes, I wanted to use someone local but for those of you who are geographically challenged, that is local! Rhode Island is a stone's throw away from my hometown Norfolk, Massachusetts. We share a time zone, a snow zone, and a football zone (at least everyone except my son et moi).

I was specifically looking for kitchen designers. I pretty much knew what I wanted to do with the space but I wanted to be sure I was getting the most bang for my buck so I wanted a professional.

This was a teeny kitchen with a huge heart
 and a great garden window full of orchids.

My last kitchen (above) was designed by Home Depot. Before you start groaning, I had an excellent experience. I lucked into a designer who had trained as an architect in Taiwan but moved to the US and was getting her contractor's license. I also saved money by purchasing most of my materials there at a discount. Schwing!

I did give Lowe's here a chance and got perhaps the most uninspired drawing you could imagine. I won't insult my grandson by saying he could have drawn it up.

The only "before" picture I have. The
counter you see is located where the door eventually
 was moved. The wall of cabinets (see below)
replaced the hutch.

This wall was nearly unusable before.
It now provides a huge amount of storage.

I looked into one of those companies that did cabinet refacing but their product looked not so good in the color/style I wanted and they were pretty cagey about letting you see a finished product up close and personal. I also spoke with a local firm whose signs are up in front of tons of houses in the area. Afterwards I felt like I'd been patted on the head and told, "don't worry little lady, we'll take care of everything." That's not what I wanted. What I wanted was to be a part of the process. I enjoy it (yes, I'm a glutton for punishment) and this would likely be the last time I'd do it so I wanted in on the action.

Moving that door allowed for a larger cooktop
and a much better workspace arrangement.

The homeowner/contractor courtship

What attracted me to Joe's firm, Modern Yankee Builders was the process he outlined on his website. I was pretty much sold right there, but just in case we had two extensive preliminary conversations that convinced me. He listened to me, we laughed, he told me his path to doing this kind of work, he listened to me some more. He was the guy; smart, process driven, quality driven, customer service driven. Where do I sign up?

Next step was design. Joe and his cohort Kevin came back, took photos and we talked and talked about what I wanted, needed, couldn't live without. I'd done my homework and compiled a ton of photos on the Houzz website which was handy for Joe, though I did keep a Pinterest board as well. (Note to Joe, learn Pinterest!) I think we talked for more than two hours. They went back to their workshop and came back to me with not one, not two but six different concepts that each had various iterations for a total of 18 plans!  They did exactly what I'd hoped they'd do, they ran with it and got incredibly creative. I selected one and then we incorporated some ideas I liked from the others and it was done.

Sounds like a breeze. It wasn't. I had to sit and stew with it for quite a while. All well worth it.

Next:  Plans, plans, plans and BOOM: Part III - The Tease

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Making a House a Home: Part I - An Idea

It all started innocently enough

I know that I usually talk about my paintings but something has taken hold of me over the past year plus and it still hasn't let me go. It's my kitchen.

I can't say I bought this house in a state of duress. I'd rather say I was a "motivated buyer." Truth be told, I gave myself one whole week to find a house here and, in hindsight, that was a bit ambitious. I am prone to set unrealistic goals. 

Once moved in, I found the kitchen a bit, um, lacking in certain respects. I later learned they'd taken it off the market for a while to make some quick improvements for sale. Emphasis on quick. I was suckered in by their efforts.

 Sure, there was new granite and a newish stove but upon move-in I learned the original 1985 oak cabinets had been hastily painted, likely over 30+ years of gunk, as I scrubbed away swaths of unprimed paint. Closing the dishwasher for the first time I realized it was never properly installed so it just kind of floated around in its space causing me to speculate as to when it would eventually come loose from what few moorings it did have. 

Yes, it looks pretty good, right? Except kind of like
me in 7th grade, it didn't live up to its potential.
I bought the fridge, the existing was missing parts.

The lovely wall color kind of reminded me of a pale raw skinless chicken thigh. Pink-ish, beige-ish, blech-ish. It had to go.

The offending wall. 

But what really irked me was the wall the refrigerator was on.  Too much space was taken up by the phone nook/desk with mail cubby and a totally dysfunctional wine rack over the fridge (where it would surely keep the wine toasty warm and where only Kareem Abdul Jabar could grab a bottle down for me). I was just barely able to squeeze a new refrigerator in there. It eventually became home to my toaster oven and microwave as well because there really weren't many other options and, besides, who really uses a desk in the kitchen when there's a perfectly good table the room?

I won't go into the peeling cork board or vinyl floor tile with various layers of floor "shine" entombing untold crud and small animals that no amount of ammonia and scrubbing could make better. Believe me, I tried.

For three years I pondered the total lack of space in this kitchen. My last house had a 10'x10' kitchen that had WAY more storage space than this 12'x18' one. I'm a cook so something had to be done.

Give me some graph paper
 and I'm dangerous.

I began picking up magazines at the market. I looked for ways to do it on the cheap. I looked at cookie cutter kitchens. I drew designs and fantacized about what to do about THAT wall. I definitely watched way too much HGTV. Finally I started looking for a true kitchen designer.

The Snag 

I didn't expect what I found, which was nothing. Not nothing really, just nobody would talk to me for maybe a couple of years. I tapped some Facebook contacts, combed the local papers, did more internet research and came up with just a few leads that didn't pan out. Either they didn't listen to my needs or they could only take me half way or, I don't know, I wasn't "feeling the love." Didn't find what I was really looking for until I found Joe's company, Modern Yankee Builders, on Houzz, a website I'd come upon some years ago while looking for ideas for my last house. So while I felt that I'd hit a snag on my way to a new kitchen, I ended up snagging a gem. Okay you cynics out there, no, he isn't paying me to write this blog. I'm giving him credit here because your relationship with your contractor is paramount and I happened upon a good one. Giving credit where credit is due.

It's been a largely unblemished year. Let me take you on a tour.

Next: What's the plan Stan? Part II - The Wonky Part That Wasn't

Weiser Idaho

My grandparents' home sits in state on Pioneer Road in Weiser, Idaho. Aptly named as my grandfather was a true western pioneer who arrived in this country at age 16 at the tail end of the Civil War and eventually became one of Weiser's founding fathers. He built that place for his bride and there they raised their seven daughters, five of whom survived childhood. My mother was the youngest.

Zinnia © Lissa Banks 2017
acrylic on canvas 36" x 24"

I can still remember the smell of hay drifting over the meadows behind the house and the slap of the wooden screen door as I scampered out the kitchen to the garden, barefoot and armed with a salt shaker to gorge on warm, red tomatoes, fresh off the vine. Adjacent to the rows of tomatoes and cucumbers and green beans destined for the cellar shelves to live on as pickles and relish, were beds the length of the house filled with zinnias taller than me, which wasn't that difficult to do, but impressive nonetheless. I'm sure there were other flowers there as well but the zinnias have remained in my soul to this day. I can still feel the sun on my nose as I squinted up at their majesty.

Only now have I had a home where they thrive. They signify so much to me. They are brash and strong and outlast all others that wither to mush in a heavy downpour. They are beautiful chameleons that can't quite decide if they want to be coral or pink so they decide to be both and then fade to a dignified mauve in old age. They endure beyond summer. Beyond autumn into the winter they give up their last seeds to hungry birds that rely on their generosity. I admire their altruism, their strength, their dignity. Last summer they were under assault by ravenous rabbits. Even then they outwitted their enemies and feigned defeat only to reemerge stronger than ever.

It must have taken gumption to come to this country and make one's own way. I can only imagine my grandmother's first impression of the wild west her husband brought her to from her sleepy shire in Scotland. Looking at my sisters and all our children I can see the Fisher strength and determination living on, I hope a little of that trickled down into me. At the very least they gave me a great gift, a deep appreciation for this glorious flower that endures against it all.


    For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings to learn how to purchase an original, a print or to commission a painting...or find me on Pinterest. Or you can find this and other this and other prints for sale at FineArtAmerica.com.

Hibernation

I do things a little differently. I hibernate come spring and emerge again in the fall. To my studio, that is. I suppose I just can't resist the urge to create on earth's canvas while the sun shines and the birds sing. It's about this time of the year that I succumb to a different itch, to dig into my boxes full of tubes of paint and rummage around a year's worth of stashed photos of warmer days seeking inspiration.

Hibernation © Lissa Banks 2016

Motivated by guilt that I've long neglected this room, I rearrange the shelves and scrub the floor while mulling the next project.

I can't really say I've been completely useless the past few months. I've pursued my interest in tulips with, I believe, good result. Regardless, I am marked by the lack of new canvases to offer up to show. It's a bit humiliating. Where did the summer go? Did I sleep through it?

As always, I resolve to do better. To paint more quickly, to seek the muse over distraction. I lack discipline, I tell myself. I will do better, turning to self-affirmations to move me forward.

I do have an ambitious project in mind. It will be large and very pink. It will take me back to the summer spent in my garden. The light of the sun will shine through the canvas and warm me as the days grow cold and dark, drawing me out of my summer hibernation.



  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings to learn how to purchase an original, a print or to commission a painting...or find me on Pinterest. Or you can find this and other this and other prints for sale at FineArtAmerica.com.

Little Faces

Philanthropy

A while back my daughter-in-law gently asked me if I might donate a painting commission to my grandson's school's auction. Having been on her side of the philanthropy fence in a past lifetime I said "sure" and that was that.

A few months later I got the email. Suddenly I was filled with trepidation. Commissions are a mixed bag. It's flattering to be chosen. It's an honor to have someone have faith in your work. But it's also fraught with lots of uncertainties. What if the collector is hard to please? What if they insist on a difficult project? What started out as an act of generosity and love began to give me agita. 

We exchanged thoughts on the project. I sent her a long email detailing what I needed in terms of a source photo (or photos) and she sent me a delightful image of four small faces. It was going to be a gift to their grandparents. What's not to love? Then I saw it, the little face at the top, the baby. Oy. Babies are difficult. At least for me.

Nate, Callie, Christopher and Nicholas © Lissa Banks 2016

I am reminded of the muffled guffaws in art history class when viewing even Renaissance images of the baby Jesus. What were they thinking? Hadn't they ever seen a baby? If Leonardo had a hard time with the younger set, what was I going to do? Well, I worked my little tushie off and I had an unknown advantage. When time came for me to meet young Nate, now not such a babe in arms, he had miraculously grown into the little boy I'd painted. Divine Providence had offered a way. 

For those of you who read my blog often (despite my sporadic entries), you'll know I'm a fairly dyed in the wool religious skeptic. But there is little else to explain how beautifully it all turned out except my deep desire to make some strangers happy. Maybe that desire is what kept an angel on my shoulder.

  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings to learn how to purchase an original, a print or to commission a painting...or find me on Pinterest. Or you can find this and other this and other prints for sale at FineArtAmerica.com.

Roots

Despite the snow falling outside on this blizzardy day, I'm thinking back to trips I took with my dad to the garden store; him passionate about plants and gardening, me loving sunshine, mud, worms and such. We would return home with flats of annuals and bags of cow manure and my dad would fill pots with petunias and geraniums. The station wagon would stink for days.

Red Geranium © Lissa Banks 2016

I remember my otherwise upright, Republican, pillar of the community father discovering creeping Charlie (aka glechoma hederacea) at a swanky garden party at an Admiral's home on Coronado Island. He surreptitiously pinched off a stem, hoping to coax some roots. I imagine him stashing his pilfered cutting in his pocket and feeling a little bit guilty at the transgression. As I recall my mother was not amused.

That little bit of green did take root. As my father learned, given the right conditions it really takes off. We had it cascading down walls, crawling through planters, threatening to take over our patio. His experiment was an astounding success. His shame melted into pride.

On spring days when I stroll the gravel paths between flats of annuals dripping with water, I find myself gravitating towards geraniums and petunias. But then I remember that maverick corner in my father's soul that led him to pinch a plant at a party. So I try new things. Sometimes they threaten to take over my garden, sometimes they wither and die. Sometimes they become my new favorite thing.

But always, ever constant are those old favorites, the stately red geraniums, the cheerful marigolds, the fragrant and delicate petunias. I imagine they are earthly reminders of lessons learned in the garden with my father.


  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings to learn how to purchase an original, a print or to commission a painting...or find me on Pinterest. Or you can find this and other this and other prints for sale at FineArtAmerica.com.