If the home is actually where the heart is, then to embark upon the process of building a dream home is to make one vulnerable like never before. Amid the long shadows of The Vision, everything about the visionary is drawn into question, from his character to his lifestyle. But with the fruition comes the ultimate redemption. Artist Robert Beck shares the story of his long journey home.

Photos by Frank Wojciechowski

>Building a house is a huge undertaking. I can’t count how often friends said to me in encouragement or perhaps sympathy, “It will be worth it when you’re done.” That suggests that along the way there would be times when it wasn’

t much fun. They were, of course, right on both accounts. It was difficult, but so worth it.

Doreen Wright, my partner, and I were looking to buy, not build, but were unable to find what we wanted. We fell in love with a beautiful wooded property in Solebury, and the opportunity to create a house tailored to our lives and desires won-out in spite of the enormity of the project. Both of us had specific thoughts about features we did and didn’t want, and I had plenty of ideas about style and design. We discussed requirements. Radiant heat. Being able to live on one floor. An open plan that didn’

t feel too large for two people, that was good for dinner for six or eight, yet could handle a larger gathering. It would have a fireplace. A kitchen designed for cooking, not bragging. Separate dressing room for Doreen. Spaces you could move through and work in intuitively. Light. Wall-space for art. No lawn. Maintenance-free exterior. And it had to coexist with the surrounding natural environment without surrendering the sense of shelter.

It’s curious that when I was young, my doodles often were floor plans. Like a lot of kids I would do drawings of cars, boats and planes, but I wouldn’t stop with how they looked. I also drew the inside plans for using them, like seating, storage and controls. I did houses, too. Being able to imagine in three dimensions enables me to walk through my thoughts to make sure everything is in the right place and doesn’

t feel out of proportion. Couple that with a pretty good esthetic sense and that somewhat quirky floor-plan interest, and I had to make this my design. Doreen gave me her full support. We embarked.

A foundation poured with trust

Art is in large part a solitary pursuit, and I’m used to living and dying by my own devices, but this time I’d have to work with a lot of people on their own professional turf, people who know a lot more than I do about construction. I wouldn’t be the first guy who thought he had great ideas. I drive past them every day. As an owner, I get the last word, but that doesn’

t make me right. I was going to need a lot of help, and the people I worked with were going to have to trust me as well. 

There was a lot I needed to learn to learn about architecture. My good friend Jeff Baumann lent me his copy of the book, A Pattern Language, which helped enormously in understanding issues of light, flow, space and emotional connection. We created a starting-point design tailored to Doreen’s and my needs, making use of established principles, incorporating what we like, what we do and how we do it. I have always been drawn to the prairie-house designs by Frank Lloyd Wright. I didn’

t want to copy one but instead incorporate lessons learned about use of materials and space. The same with Craftsman and Japanese architecture. I went through a lot of books, including ones on classical proportion.

Armed with drawings and a plan, I interviewed architects. My main criteria were that they understood what I was trying to do, and that they could work with Bob the Artist —

a not so easy thing. We chose Michael Raphael in Doylestown. Even before we gave him the job of turning my design into architectural drawings, Mike advised me to find a builder and get him involved in the project as early as I could. That was smart. So as we began introducing The Vision to engineering realities, I went in search of someone who would and could build a different kind of house.

>I wasn’t sure what I was looking for in a builder. Most of the houses going up today don’t appeal to me. Many lack proportion and cohesion, and often mix styles. That’s not necessarily the builder’

s fault, but I had to find one who knew the difference. John Zerrer was recommended to me by more than one person. It was clear as we toured and discussed some of his projects that he has a sense of proportion and balance, knowledge of techniques and materials, experience, good business practices, and he loves building houses. I was impressed by how proud John was of the craftsmen who work for him. He spoke candidly about lessons he learned from building his own house years ago. I found the person we needed: a builder who understood what mattered to us. I trusted John with our home. It was one of the best decisions I ever made. 

>It is unusual for a client to be involved at the creative level that I was, but Mike, John, Greg Frederick, who was in charge of our project, and I worked well together. There was a big benefit to having the builder at the table for the design process. The architect got to ask him about construction preferences and John got to participate in the evolution. When control of the project swung from architect to builder, there was no learning curve.

The high level of craftsmanship started immediately, with crisp excavation and arrow-straight foundations. The angular form of the house challenged the workers, and they responded with enthusiasm. Meanwhile, I began designing individual elements like the front door, the fireplace and trim details. The craftsmen were encouraged to bring their skills to bear on my basic idea, and I would make sure all the elements had the same vernacular. I envisioned an effort in which the design didn’

t end until the key was put in the door. 

There were times when I would come up with an idea and describe it to John. He’d look into the wheels and gears spinning behind my eyes, hesitant to put his fingers back there, and say, “Give me a drawing.” So I’d sketch it out, sometimes on the floor, with multiple views and dimensions. We’d discuss materials, practicality and maybe some other design approaches. Then one of John’

s crew would be brought into the discussion and given the project. I could also trust John to delicately tell me when I was heading down a bad road. Good ideas came from many directions. Doreen made large contributions to the finished design with suggestions that brought the overall vision to a much higher level. We all worked as a team.

Form follows function

A basic rule of architecture holds that form should support function. The house is made for how Doreen and I live. Every area, be it Doreen’s office, the laundry or the kitchen was designed considering the uses and movements that would be involved. Doreen can go back and forth between the rooms where she most spends her time without climbing stairs or even turning a corner. Her office is just inside the front door, so she can conduct business with someone without having them walk through the house. The living, dining and kitchen areas surround a fireplace and are separated from the private living space by a gallery hall, with ceilings that average 11 feet. The entry and personal areas are a more intimate nine feet. The entire house is wheelchair accessible, both because I have friends who have never been able to visit me, and I don’

t want that to be the reason why we have to leave some day.

Doreen and I planned on having radiant heat from the beginning but decided to add geothermal after we were well into construction. That change had its cost, and the equipment and wells weren’t cheap. Calculated according to today’s prices, the payback is quite a few years out, but today’s numbers and realities aren’t tomorrow’

s, and factoring-in what is the right thing to do made it a clear choice.

>The plan of the house was dictated in part by the two-and-a-half-acre property, which is 100 feet wide and 1,050 feet uphill. With setbacks, there was just a little more than 50 feet of width to work with. Think fettuccini. The house emerges from the hillside. The bedroom is actually four feet under grade at the back, and the dining room, located at the downhill end, is at a second-story level. Large roof overhangs protect the sides from weather, and along with a paint scheme taken from the property, make the home look part of the wooded environment.

A place for and of art

One tenet of the interior design was to visually eliminate edges. There is no vertical trim where walls meet and no cornice where the walls join the ceiling. A trim band circles all the rooms at the top of the windows, above which the wall is painted the color of the ceiling. This dissolves the corner where the wall and ceiling meet. The result is spacious, eliminating the feeling that the ceiling is either far away or being worn like a hat. The stained birch and cork floors are bordered by a similar-hue mahogany baseboard, disguising the lower corners as well. You move from one area to the next with little visual delineation or sense of edges. The front door is the only place where a vertical runs from floor to ceiling. Everywhere else the thrust is lateral. Each room has two entries and two sources of light. You feel unconfined, yet protected. Common rooms are expansive, private areas are intimate but still generous.

Not only does the house match our needs and temperament, it provides an uncomplicated setting for art, primarily paintings and prints. We employed corner and transom windows to preserve wall-space without losing light. An angled groove cut in the lateral trim accepts specially designed metal clips from which artwork can be hung by monofilament, allowing paintings to be arranged without making holes in the walls. The linear design allows the art its voice without competition, and makes a good curve really sing. Stepped edges on casings and cabinetry and an occasional angled detail maintain interest and cohesion. The inside of the house felt and looked great even before the paintings and furniture were placed.

Doreen and I wanted our artist friends to be a part of our home. While we were still in the design phase, I sent out small panels and asked them to create a piece of that size and of their own medium, based on a theme of branches. Jeff Baumann designed 20 small niches with magnets imbedded in the back, which were built into the walls to receive these individual works of art. The magnets allow the pieces to be repositioned or removed for cleaning. Other friends constructed major elements, like Ed Murphy’s front door, Keith Sandburg’

s platform bed/side table unit and the entry leaded-glass by Kim Kurki and Bill Osler. Nakashima Studio made an English walnut mantle for the main fireplace, which serves as a link between the linear, milled woodwork inside the house and the natural woods outside.

>Doreen and I worked very closely with Bob Schultz at William Draper to create a kitchen that is a natural extension of the overall design and flow. It was a bit complicated, and built off-site, so a high level of professionalism was needed. We got exactly what we wanted. They even chased around the country to locate the perfect counter-top.

This house is by far the largest artistic effort of my career. I got to employ skills that I have acquired over a lifetime. Everyone involved brought their best to the table, but it wouldn’t have come together as an interconnected and organized whole without the drive and expertise of the builder. John Zerrer and his crew demonstrated passion and craftsmanship that I find humbling, and I am very proud to have worked with and been accepted by them. The house is solid, it’s functional and it’s gorgeous. Guests remark about how comfortable it is. It feels like it has always been there. Inevitably, someone admiring the craftsmanship says, “They don’t build them like this any more.”

Actually, John Zerrer does.

Robert Beck maintains a painting studio, gallery and school in Lambertville, NJ. He also hosts a weekly program on the Sergeantsville, NJ-based radio station, WDVR-FM. Beck has been awarded more than two dozen major prizes in regional exhibitions, a 2008 retrospective at the Trenton City Museum at Ellarslie and had 37 paintings exhibited by the James A. Michener Art Museum in 1999. For more information, visit www.robertbeck.net.