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	When designers and architects work on their own homes, they're a lot like the rest of us Chicago Tribune Magazine 09/15/2002 We look to architects, builders, designers and contractors to create harmony in our homes-to fashion settings that stylistically reflect our tastes and trends, improve our lives and serve as a refuge from work and outside stresses. In the last year since Sept. 11, the home has taken on more importance as a cocoon for family and friends. But what about the houses that design professionals fashion for themselves? Do they have the same goals as their clients or do they feel a stronger push, and pressure to make a visual statement that raises design to a loftier level, reflects the faster pace of global changes, complements a setting and inspires clients and others? Their designs follow no single script, according to professionals nationwide. Many want their homes to fall into the same realm of escapist retreat that non-professionals seek, particularly as technology makes getting away harder. Others want their homes to represent a living laboratory for the latest ideas, while at the other end of the spectrum some seek a place that promotes domestic tranquility. There are also those who are so bombarded by resources that they patiently let tastes evolve. Finally, some are the industry's version of the shoemaker's children; they have little time and money to feather their own nests. New York designer Vicente Wolfe was one of those who sought a kind of escape - a spare setting that would act as a release from the cacophony of constant design choices. "A lot of people think a designer lives like the work he does for clients, but that's not true in my case. I like empty spaces except for a few special objects such as the photography collection I began 25 years ago. My surroundings are basically white painted floors, walls, ceiling and kitchen - and upholstery in five shades of taupe." In contrast, Chicago designer Jack Kreltinger's city escape morphed into his fantasy. His Uptown vintage multiflat exudes a rich British Colonial flavor that transports him back to his childhood, when he voraciously read adventure tales. "All I wanted to do was be far away from typical Midwestern suburbs," says the Des Moines native. Dark colors predominate with rich horn and shell accessories and live greenery. He changes furnishings regularly, not allowing himself to become attached to one design scheme. "There's always something new available," he says. Still other professionals design their homes to reflect a classic approach that does not invite frequent changes. This was the philosophy that Eleanor Brown espoused as the late founder of the prestigious design firm McMillen. Throughout her career, she frequently said, "My dear, if you get it right the first time you never have to change it much," recalls New York designer Albert Hadley. Sister Parish, another New York designer who transformed the Kennedy White House and was Hadley's partner, also changed little in her rooms, known for their comfortable chintz, painted furniture and floors, rag rugs and exuberant color. According to her granddaughter, Susan Crater, who has reissued a line of her grandmother's fabrics and recently co-wrote "Sister: The Life of the Legendary Interior Decorator Mrs. Henry Parish II" (St. Martin's), Parish railed against trends. She favored what would now be termed eclectic-mixing what looked right to the eye. "She cared more about lines than pedigrees and would put Guatemalan textiles atop a sofa and next to an antique. But she was consistent," Crater said. In fact, Parish wrote, "If there is a theme to my work, it is the theme of my life-continuity. Things inherited from the past somehow always turn out to be the most interesting and beautiful things we can live with today. I think it's so sad, seeing all those young people going up the elevators in the Decorator's Building, listening to them talk about the latest trends and styles and looks. ...I have never developed a look or followed a trend because I knew that every person's life differs from every other, and everyone's needs are therefore different. The lessons I learned doing my own house and those I learned on my earliest commissions have been with me through my 50 years of decorating." Hadley has continued that philosophy, adjusting objects for new settings and needs. "You work with a given space, but your point of view remains the same," he says. Many young designers think this method still holds. Atlanta designer Robert Spiotta took this approach in his 1950s ranch. "We don't buy often, but what we buy is exquisite and keep it forever," he says. His motto: Connoisseurship over consumption. Chicago architect Mark Sexton has also followed this philosophy but in a pared-down way. Although he focuses on contemporary design, he chose a 100-year-old apartment building because of its design integrity, considered modern at its time. "The rooms have great moldings and are full of light so the furnishings needed are minimal and modern. Over time, even with children, I want less because I hate pollution," he says. While a large number of professionals may view their homes as a refuge, some also treat them as a lab to test ideas they're exposed to in their work, as well as what their imaginations conjure up. Many also possess an insatiable restlessness to try new settings. When success strikes, it may offer solutions for clients. This push to make changes occurs more frequently due to global exchanges and the proliferation of information. "The rate of change is more rapid and there's more diversity. As with fashion, there's no single style that dominates," says J. Walker Smith, president of Yankelovich Partners, trendwatchers based in Charlotte, N.C. But a downside is that fewer designers have a lasting impact, as they used to. "More people make decisions for themselves," Smith says. The coming debut of several shelter magazines for do-it-yourself homeowner decorators is tangible proof. Nevertheless, the testing goes on, often inspired by travel. Wolf, who was born in Cuba, says, "I like to broaden my vision and might explore putting an African sculpture next to an 18th Century gilded chair." Chicago designer Daniel DuBay also tests ideas first on himself. He thought he wanted a white apartment since he had never had one, but after doing so he hated the results. "It had no warmth or interest," he says. His designs reflect a mix of intuition about the space, how he thought furniture should be arranged and what upholstery should be. He wraps everything in one color to organize his mind. Recently, it was split pea; next it will be saffron yellow or red. Even the type of home may serve as a design experiment. Chicago architect Ken Schroeder likes to work with "green" materials and prefers small, detailed houses. His 1890s house in Old Town is small but sits on a large lot. "The square footage has allowed us to afford better finishes and detailing. Too often, big square footage wins, which destroys yards and the quality of street life," he says. Thomas Roszak, an architect in Evanston, is building a glass house with a steel and concrete frame. Among the ideas he's testing are a first floor with no walls and a central nervous system that controls heat, air, light and security. When the house is done, he plans to furnish it with cutting edge designs rather than the expected Earnes and Mies items. DuBay, who has gravitated toward high-rise apartments, which serve as a foil for his English antiques, bought a vintage co-op with moldings and high ceilings. "I had never dealt with the problems of a vintage structure, which many of my clients have, and I thought it a challenge," he says. It was, with a surprise ending: He found antiques looked too anticipated in that setting so he's divesting himself and going modern. Todd Richesin, a Knoxville, Tenn., designer, also made a major change, but for a different reason. He relocated to a condo in an 1860 downtown warehouse from a newer suburban condo. "I had lots of amenities and a home with a formal, almost hands-off feeling. I grew tired of that and wanted a place with 20-foot-high ceilings, stainless steel, curved walls, commanding city views and more comfortable furnishings. I get the itch about every five years to do something different. I have to move," he says. The location of Wolf's home, in Manhattan's gritty garment district, has taught him a life lesson. "It offers a much-needed sense of reality," he says. "I walk down 9th Avenue, see the homeless and know that what I'm doing professionally is just fluff. When I lived on the East Side, I'd scratch a table and it would become a major problem. Now it remains just a scratch." Years ago, architect Frank Gehry altered his Santa Monica, Calif., house in a middle-class neighborhood, wrapping the home in glass and corrugated steel and putting a chain link fence on the roof, things he saw in neighbors' yards. Still other professionals view their homes as a place to satisfy universal domestic needs, more akin to the Parish approach. Princeton, N.J., architect Michael Graves says his home "has nothing to do with change and pace. My house has to do only with domestic life. But then it is my assumption that everybody's house is about domesticity as well. In my observation, new trends are replaced by newer trends, and cutting edge goes dull ultimately. What a bore." Myla Frohman Goldstick, a Chicago designer, agrees that domesticity should be the major influence in home design and that tastes and needs should evolve. With her move to a new home, she plans to heed advice she gives clients. "I tell them to take their time before they make changes. particularly when they've never lived in it. I don't know yet how the sun comes in or what it will be like to live in a ranch after a 1920s Dutch Colonial." Maryland designer Deborah Wiener found this out the hard way. After she furnished a home with the best furnishings she could afford, she found it wasn't family-friendly for her children. Her second attempt produced a welcoming, colorful place where anybody could eat on the sofa, watch TV and not worry about spills. Clients have followed suit. The profession has its share of shoemakers' children. Some, like Washington, D.C., designer Lisa Vandenburgh find it hard to make decisions when they can't afford the level of quality they select for clients or when they feel compelled to sell anything good they find to clients. Some seek help from other professionals. Sharon Hanby-Robie, a designer in Lancaster, Pa., and a spokesperson for the Wallpaper Council, has been hired to design colleagues' homes and seeks advice from staff. "We're so over-saturated with what come in that many of us can't make a decision. I'm a nightmare client and value someone else's opinion. I'd throw me out." Or, she might be stuck with herself for years. Design professionals usually consider their homes to be works in progress that they rarely finish. Says Iowa architect Anthony Lawler, who authored "Home of the Soul" (Clarkson Potter): "I see my home as a process rather than as an object. I've gone from being enamored of the beauty of spaces and objects as goals to seeing that those things should support my life and make it more interesting. Settings should never stay the same because that would mean life stops. The goal should be to create an environment that accepts change and life's messiness. It's far more liberating." Roszak/ADC 1415 Sherman Avenue Suite 101 Evanston, IL 60201 Main  847-425-7555 Sales  847-328-8200 Fax  847-425-7540 email inquiries: info@roszakadc.com copyright© 2003 Roszak/ADC. All rights reserved.