Architecture and Development

LOCATION Old Palo Alto
STYLE Spanish / Mediterranean
ARCHITECT Stephen Pogue
DESIGNER Alex Miller Cole
BUILDER J5 Homes

The home uses the following architectural patterns very well:

• defined space
• outside connection
• windows on at least two sides
• site orientation.

This post is the first in a series of four, with each post describing one pattern in detail. Before I describe how the home defines space, lets look at the overall floor plan.

Floor Plan

Defined Space

One of my favorite features of the Well-Balanced Box is how well it balances the macro functions of formal entertaining, relaxed living and sleep. The structure clearly defines each of these spaces into zones. The formal living space, as below shows, occupies the left half of the first floor. The dining room, living room and outdoor yard are clearly joined.

Formal Entertaining

Small walls define the spaces individually. For example, an arched-barrier separates the dining room from the living room, and a partial wall separates the living room from the outdoor yard. Although protection of space is important for many reasons, with this house, the reason is simple: people feel more comfortable in smaller groups. Imagine a great party someday where four couples stand around the dining table eating food, a large group surrounded by smaller ones occupies the living room, and many conversations of two to three people occupy the outside. Next, imagine standing outside. You move from room to room, finding new conversations, not only in content, but also in number of participants (think back on conversations that are one-to-one versus one-to many. Very different!)

Now remove the dividers. The space becomes one. When it becomes one large space, I’d argue people would begin to feel uncomfortable. For me at least, I much prefer the intimacy of a small room to a massive ballroom. The latter creates too much pressure to navigate the room, say hello to all, and facilitates small talk versus longer, deeper, more meaningful conversations.

Casual Living

Next, consider the relaxed living space. The home partitions two zones: a mini great room on the first floor and family room-spa on the ground floor. The mini great room does a good job of creating three intimate and functional spaces within the room. The configuration below shows the functions of cooking, working (think homework or casual projects), eating, socializing and watching TV.

Sleeping Space

Finally, the sleeping space is divided between the downstairs room and the top floor. Two things I like: first, it facilitates many different room arrangements. The rooms with the Jack-and-Jill bathroom are perfect for younger siblings. I like it because it would make the kids share and take dual responsibility for keeping it clean, and it allows private access between rooms (for late night storytelling, or whatever). The downstairs room is perfect for an older child or office. Or, put the office in the suite adjacent to the master suite or in the room with balcony access. I like the latter because you can walk to your office in the morning by balcony. The master suite allows its occupants to sleep, read, watch TV or relax in the tub with four spaces: bed, sitting area by windows, outdoor balcony or bathroom.

Next time we look the pattern outside connection.

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When spaces are poorly defined, people don’t spend time in them. Define them, and their occupants flourish. What makes a space well defined? Thinking about possible reasons, I identified the following three features:

• Separate spaces with different functions
• Join spaces with common functions
• Build the room only if it achieves its intended purpose

Separate spaces with different functions

If two spaces flow into each other with separate purposes, such as a living room flowing into a family room, then one usually subsumes the other. A new home in Menlo Park’s Willows had the following floor plan:

Join spaces with common functions

When spaces that are commonly used in conjunction, such as a living room and dining room for formal entertaining, are divorced from one another, then the flow is interrupted. Or said another way, the casual thought of moving from the dining to the living space is less natural.

Instead, join these spaces. When these spaces are put together, the “entertaining space” is both defined and protected. Or consider the great room. The most common great room joins an open kitchen and casual eating space with the family room. People love intimate socializing and watching TV (sports, film, favorite shows) with food. Also, imagine a family at work: one child watching TV, one child doing homework at the kitchen table, and the parents(s) making a meal. All three activities, albeit separate, are joined by a common purpose: being together.

Build the room only if it achieves its intended purpose

This concept is less defined that the previous ones. Ultimately it stems from rooms that feel designed as if they were an afterthought. Or the room was designed without thought of its actual occupants.

Again, I refer to the living room. My thought on the living room is simple: its used for entertaining guests. I find conversations between guests ebb and flow between smaller conversations, one on one or one to few, and group conversations where all are involved. In order to accommodate this, the room must provide enough space for multiple seating arrangements. Imagine a central, primary seating area (with two couches facing each other) surrounded by groups of one or more smaller areas (two or three chairs). The problem I see, within most new construction, is small living rooms. If you’re going to build it small, don’t build it at all. Why? The room accommodates three couples or less. If the group is that small, then its likely casual, and casual groups instead choose the intimacy of the family room.

Well-Defined Space: Physical space (actual shape) must be congruent with social space (how people actually use and spend time in a room).

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One of my favorites, from my list of fun, someday maybe goals, is building a home that incorporates a bathtub with a view. Imagine relaxing in a warm soaking tub. In front of you are large, floor-to-ceiling windows. Your gaze wanders naturally through them, not so much focusing on any specific point but instead it takes the scene in entirety. Because its dusk and the lights are off, the room is filled with a bluish almost violet light. The sun sets over the ocean, skyline, mountains, or lake (insert favorite vista). Your eyes close. You focus on the warmth.

I love the visual, and fortunately for me, I enjoyed it in person. About ten years ago, while staying in South Lake Tahoe, my father, with his inimitable charm, brightened the day of the woman booking our room. For a small moment of jovial conversation, she booked us in one of the casino’s nicest suites. And neither of us gambles! The next day, home from skiing, I figured, “I’m on vacation, why not take a bath.” Since a child, I hate light from unnatural sources and love natural light (at home, I turn the lights on only when its completely dark). I jumped in the tub before sunset. Imagine Lake Tahoe before you: star destroyer clouds capping massive white mountains surrounding a crystal blue lake. The mountains changed from yellow to orange to purple to blue. I staid in the tub for hours, and I repeated the experience each consecutive day.

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My office is in San Carlos and my home in Palo Alto, so I spend significant amounts of time in both cities. While driving into San Carlos yesterday from the 101 (yes, I say “the 101”, having lived in Los Angeles for six years), I noticed a major obstacle that the San Carlos downtown must overcome in order to grow into a more mature one: walking access to destination points from Caltrain is somewhat insurmountable. Compared with Palo Alto, where access to downtown is a short, protected walk, access to destination points in San Carlos is not.

Please note: I love downtown San Carlos. I grew up in San Carlos, and more important, I enjoy its quaint feel. The article is meant as a study in urban design, and it’s not meant as a critique of San Carlos downtown. Many people like it the way it is - the “slow growth” folks.

Access to Destination Points
Lets start with what I call “destination points”. A destination point is a place that has significant attraction to outside people. In Palo Alto, it may be a restaurant (St. Michael’s Alley), a café (Coupa Café), or a theater (Stanford Theater). In San Carlos, it is mainly the restaurants on the 700 block of Laurel Street (Town Restaurant). My thought is simple: a mature downtown provides easy walking access from major transit, which in our area is Caltrain. Thinking about “easy walking access” since yesterday, I’ve come up with three advantages that Palo Alto offers over San Carlos: protection, distance and variation. Let’s look at them briefly.

Protection
First, the walk from Palo Alto train station into downtown follows a protected path. It starts with a walk down a flight of stairs to an elevated walkway (with railing), then through a short crosswalk (at a lightly trafficked stop sign), and soon after you’re in downtown. The following photo shows the protected walkway and crosswalk:

On the other hand, consider the walk from Caltrain to the 700 block of Laurel Street in San Carlos. It starts with an unattractive walk across El Camino, a five-lane boulevard (six counting the turn lane). The light takes awhile, there is only one crosswalk, and traffic moves fast. The walk down San Carlos Avenue is less than pleasing. Albeit less trafficked than El Camino Real, the street accommodates two lanes each way of cars that move quickly (four lanes total). The following photo shows what in my opinion, on a subtle level, is a less than appealing walk into downtown:

Distance
Second, consider distance. In Palo Alto, destination points start within 500 feet of Caltrain (Junnoon, Palo Alto Bicycles, Lavanda). On the other hand, the walk from Caltrain to the 700 block of Laurel Street is 1500 feet. The difference may not seem like much, however when you convert the distances into miles (0.09 and 0.28 miles respectively), you see the difference. Think of a running track in your mind. Between walking one straightaway versus a full lap, which would you prefer?

Variation in Walking Paths
Finally, Palo Alto’s distribution of nearby destination points and grid of avenues-alleys-streets (University Ave, Hamilton Ave, Lytton Ave run east to west; High St, Emerson St, Ramona St, Bryant St, Waverly St, Cowper St, Webster St run north to south) give the pedestrian a myriad of choices when choosing walking paths to major destinations. In the drawing below, black squares represent destination points. How many paths do you count?

I counted around 15. Compare that with San Carlos. Most pedestrians (if they have a choice) prefer streets with as little car traffic as possible. Also, I took the train to Bellarmine College Prep for four years and walked down San Carlos Avenue nearly every day. And I drive the street everyday too. In my experience, I’d say 99% of the people I see walk San Carlos Avenue into town (and less than 1% walk along El Camino). That leaves one path to the 700 block of Laurel Street. See below.

Final Thoughts
I don’t consider myself the end-all-be-all authority on urban design. Hardly. However I do think about these things on a regular basis. Seriously, its just the way that I’m wired. I just notice these things while driving, walking, whatever. I can’t help myself. So in the coming weeks, expect more writings about local urban design. Why? Because I enjoy writing about it. If you like these articles, please comment (any feedback would be great). More than anything, I hope you, faithful reader, begin noticing the subtleties of the spaces we live in - both private (homes) and public (towns).

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Over the next few weeks, I depart from writing on broad real estate topics and instead focus on architecture, namely new construction in the Peninsula, specifically new single-family homes in Palo Alto, Menlo Park and Redwood City. What excites me most about architecture in these areas is not the finishes, materials or what we typically see, but the way rooms flow, the floor plan and how space is generally used. In my opinion, the spaces and flow between spaces in a home are one of the most important considerations when evaluating a new home purchase. Why? Whether we spend all of our time or no time in room is usually determined by how well the space is crafted.

Consider the following questions: how many windows, of what size, and how many walls have windows? What direction and view do these windows face? Is the room connected to the world outside or is it isolated? Is the room connected to the rest of the house or is isolated? You get the point. While TV home shows, magazines and pop culture suggest we look at finishes and materials (and thereby become better consumers), I suggest we see what is not normally seen.

So my goal is simple: by looking at new homes throughout the coming weeks, we’ll teach each other how to look at space with a new perspective, a perspective that is sensitive to how well each space compliments the life we live today and the life we are creating for tomorrow (me with my posts, and you with your comments). Imagine walking into a home and instantly knowing whether it sustains life or flattens it. With that said, I hope you look forward to my first post on a very well done, Spanish Villa in Professorville, Palo Alto.

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By Anton Blewett, Cell: (650) 996-2028

Many of San Francisco’s traditional homes, like those in the Victorian and Edwardian styles, are long and thin. The floor plan is a string of rooms following a long corridor. My first San Francisco apartment, on Steiner in Lower Haight, fits the long-thin pattern perfectly. <<Image>> Notice the only rooms, with adjoining walls along the long-axis, are the two front and two back ones. At first glance, it’s easy to dismiss the long-thin pattern as a period style. Upon deeper thought, the pattern provides privacy, minimizes overcrowding and ultimately boosts psychological well-being

Strong evidence suggests overcrowding in small spaces creates psychological as well as social damage to its dwellers. In small spaces with overcrowding, everyone is in each other’s space, everything is too near everything else, and privacy is impossible. Too much time, in a place like this, strains relationships and provokes stress.

In order to create more privacy, increase the distance between places within a house. Think of it mathematically (wow, putting my CS degree to some use!), privacy is directly related to the point-to-point distance between two places: the higher the point-to-point distance, the greater the privacy. That makes sense, right? When a room is further away, you are less likely to hear or interact with its inhabitants.

With these thoughts in mind, long-thin houses provide more privacy and less overcrowding than square or circular ones. In long-thin houses, the point-to-point distance between all room combinations is high. In square or circular houses, the average point-to-point distance is low.

Back to my flat on Steiner. I shared it with four roommates, three of which had significant others. Moreover the building owner used the room across from mine as his office. Despite living with eight additional people, I never felt cramped. In fact, my private and social time was well balanced. Only closets adjoined my room to my roommate’s room, so I felt free within my space. When I felt social, I gathered with friends in the kitchen or living room. Would I live in an arrangement like this again? No. No way. Now way in … you get the point. However my experience highlights the point that even with nine people, five rooms worked in a long, thin house. (If you didn’t notice already from the drawing) The downside to traditional, San Francisco houses is the arrangement of bathroom. Yes, the word is singular. (I was twenty-four when I lived on Steiner).

All in all, the long-thin floor plan provides comfort and well-being by maximizing privacy and minimizing overcrowding. Next time you walk within a traditional, San Francisco house, notice the arrangement of rooms and ask, “How would I feel living here?” Your thoughts may surprise you.

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By Anton Blewett, Cell: (650) 996-2028

“Most houses built in this country are a series of tightly-enclosed small boxes arranged in a very orderly, linear fashion within another very orderly, linear box, grouped with other boxes in a very orderly manner on a very linear street. This is one reason we are all so crazy,” says Robert Roskind in his book, Building Your Own House. I agree: there is something unnatural about tightly packed arrangements of boxes.

So why are they built like this? Because homes built in this manner go up quickly, they keep costs down for the contractor. It is hard to hire tradesman to do anything other than build boxes when the cost of labor is so high.

Is this the whole story? Not exactly.
Because most homes are built in this manner—called standard stud construction, its hard to imagine homes built any other way. Before the 20th century, almost all houses were log or post and beam. Post and beam construction, which is sometimes called plank and beam construction, was the dominant form of construction in the US before the introduction of standard stud. Why the change? Standard stud is quicker, easier and cheaper. That’s a shocker. Some craftsmen liken the change to America’s switch from whole grain wheat to white bread.

Post and Beam Construction
Post and beam construction requires large structural framing members placed vertically and horizontally. The vertical timbers are called posts, the supporting horizontal timbers, beams. The load of the roof is carried across the horizontal beams, next over the vertical posts and finally into the ground. In other words, the posts and beams carry the entire load of the structure. Walls simply hang siding, doors and windows. When compared with standard stud, post and beam requires fewer materials because the structure requires fewer, larger framing members. Unfortunately post and beam requires highly skilled and trained joiners. The joints must fit precisely because they carry the entire structure’s weight.

The Switch
At first glance, it seems the quickness and lower skill level required of standard stud fueled the switch. The deeper reason is growth. As cities expand quickly, vertical space becomes more important (think skyscrapers). Post and beam requires longer and stronger framing members to accommodate more floors. Standard stud, on the other hand, simply stacks one story on top of the other.

The Benefits
In residential construction, everything is setup around standard stud. For example:

• The materials are readily available and meet local codes
• Exact cuts are not required. The load is spread over many pieces and many joints. No one joint is essential, so there is a ¼-inch margin of error at each framing stage.
• Most building materials accommodate the standard stud frame spacing (think 4×8 plywood)
• Heaters, ductwork, plumbing, etc. are built to fit between the framing members

Standard stud replaced post and beam (and log) construction because it is quicker, cheaper and makes taller buildings possible. Does this mean it’s the best method for houses? No. Just as whole grain wheat made a comeback, I hope post and beam will too.

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By Anton Blewett, Cell: (650) 996-2028

In 1941, architectural critic Lewis Mumford wrote the following piece in his seminal book, The South in Architecture:

“Let us be clear about this, the forms that people used in other civilizations or in other periods of our own country’s history were intimately part of the whole structure of their life. There is no method of mechanically reproducing these forms or bringing them back to life; it is a piece of rank materialism to attempt to duplicate some earlier form, because if its delight for the eye, without realizing how empty a form is without the life that once supported it. There is no such thing as a modern colonial house any more any more than thee is such a thing as a modern Tudor house.”

“If one seeks to reproduce such a building in our own day, every mark on it will betray the fact that it is a fake, and the harder the architect works to conceal that fact, the more patent the fact will be … The great lesson of history—and this applies to all the arts—is that the past cannot be recaptured except in spirit. We cannot live another person’s life; we cannot, except in the spirit of a costume ball… Our task is not to imitate the past, but to understand it, so that we may face the opportunity of our own day and deal with them in an equally creative spirit.”

His poignant words remain true today as 65 years ago. Architecture must celebrate its time and place. Instead of recreating Craftsman homes, Mediterranean mansions and Spanish villas, we must define a new language of creation born out of today, sensitive to the past and with an eye towards the future.

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One of my best college friends father wrote a book about the elimination of the third space. We divide our time between three spaces, he said: work, home and the third space. In the past, the town square played the role of the third space. It provides a place to see neighbors, connect to friends in a random fashion, catch up on local happenings, and just relax. He argued that the third space is not only vital to a city center, but that it has virtually disappeared with the advent of sprawl and recent development.

I argue that today, for some of us at least, the café is our third space. While frequenting my favorite cafes, I’ve met many strangers, enjoyed all kinds of conversations, and made strong friends. In fact, I randomly run into a particular friend on a bi-monthly basis. Is it a surprise, that when we do, it seems to be perfectly timed? Cafés enable synchronicity and connectedness (two vital components to a city center).

Not all cafés qualify as a third space. Many are de-facto virtual offices. Take Starbuck’s for instance. After observing the scene for only minutes, it’s apparent that the patrons fall into two primary categories: people doing work on laptops and people conducting meetings. Don’t get me wrong: people do socialize in Starbuck’s. Only I feel the majority is there to do work. Therefore many cafés are simply an extension of the workspace.

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