CREATING A SENSE OF PLACE

Romantic architects like to refer to the effects they create as "senses." A "sense of breeze" might be the experience of sitting in a room that makes you feel as if you're on a breezy tropical island, when in fact you're in a northern city. A "sense of height" is the feeling that a room or space or building is very tall, far beyond its actual dimensions. One of the perceptions that designers especially prize is a "sense of place"—the feeling that you're somewhere special, whether it's on top of a mountain or in a town square. A romantic house can create a sense of place even if the property is not large, does not possess a panoramic view, and does not comprise an entire compound. The predominant way of creating a "sense" is by intensifying people s perceptions. You can create a sense of height by positioning short objects next to the walls that you want to appear tall. You can as a pond, in the landscape's middle ground, thus making the background stretch farther away. To generate a sense of place, you can select the most auspicious of the locations available and then intensify the experience of getting to, and moving through, the house and the property. A landscape architect might intensify the approach to the house by creating an allee—a walk or path between two rows of formally-planted trees or shrubs that are at least twice as high as the walk or path is wide. An architect tends to intensify the approach by carefully choosing where to position the house on the land and by giving the house a shape and a layout that will make it feel like a special spot. Usually there are just one or two best routes for reaching a property, whether by foot or by vehicle. Down a street or road, over a hill, or around a bend, the house comes into view. The romantic architect shapes the house and composes its windows and doors with a keen awareness of which part of the house will be seen first, second, and so on. The house may be designed to give one impression from far off and a different impression up close. For example, from a distance, visitors may not be able to discern where the front door is, but once they come near, they discover a conspicuous and welcoming entryway. This technique makes a person feel confused or curious while searching for the door, thus intensifying the delight of finding the inviting entrance once it becomes visible. If this sounds a bit manipulative, keep in mind that romantic houses are intended to be sensual, making impressions on the occupants and visitors. A walk through a romantic house can be a journey that includes vistas, surprises, and illusions, such as short distances that seem much longer than they are, and tall spaces that seem even taller. Photography, even video photography, can rarely capture the full effect of moving in and about a romantic house, for it is an emotional experience, forged by visual, tactile, and kinetic sensations as you advance.

Once you have entered the house, the romantic architect continues massaging and managing your feelings. In Hugh Newell Jacobsen's design for the Palmedo residence, the front door is in a part of the house that stands forward from the houses main body, connected only by a glass- dwelling requires the guest to enter, then go through a transparent passage—in effect, to go outside again—and then walk forward to get into the main component of the house, which of course is the real destination. It's a shocking experience that intensifies the experience of arriving. The jolt is not unlike the frustrations that often accompany travel to special places. Since the journey through the front door is only for visitors (the occupants usually enter from another direction) there is no reason the entry sequence can't be a little contorted to convey a "sense of place." Obie Bowman is fond of making both the visitors and the owners climb up or down or find their way around corners after they enter a house, for no other reason than to intensify their experiences. At Peter Bohlin's own home in northeastern Pennsylvania, the sense of place is accentuated by striking views or unusual ways of presenting them, such as a kitchen window with Alice-in-Wonderland proportions, magically suspended in air. These three modern romantics share an admiration for a modern flow of spaces, one room open to next, but arranged in just the right way so as to control your every step. The genteel homes of Jacobsen, the beatnik homes of Bowman, and the traditional-to-progressive homes of Bohlin are all built from plans that set rooms apart at angles, or that separate them with small rooms or spaces. Views or focal points pull you one way or another so that moving through a house conjures up the feeling of walking through the woods or ascending a mountain. Jacobsen designs into each house a stunning experience that is akin to suddenly commanding a panoramic view from a mountaintop. His goal is for the visitor and the homeowner to be bowled over upon discovering it. Not everyone can do that. But a modern romantic strives to lay out a house so that a person moves through it according to a plan that leads them to a spot offering an impressive view of the countryside, a breathtaking fireplace, or just a beautiful tree. That special spot, sometimes referred to as the point of arrival, is an essential ingredient in a "sense of place."