House tour: May Day on Chestnut Street

Living room in a Greek Revival, double house on Chestnut StreetI had no idea when I moved to Salem that I would be living in the town featuring “the finest street, architecturally, in New England” (according to maritime historian Samuel Eliot Morison). This spring, that street -- Chestnut Street -- will welcome visitors into ten homes along it, to benefit Hamilton Hall (also on Chestnut Street). Tour first-floor, living spaces of featured homes on Saturday, May 5 from noon to 3:45 pm. Owners and guides will share tales of historic and anecdotal interest about the stately homes participating in May Day on Chestnut Street.

Stroll the street originally laid out in 1796 where well-to-do sea captains, ship builders, and merchants (among others) created their Federal and Greek Revival style dwellings, far removed from the workaday bustle of the wharves and counting houses. Explore homes, like the one shown in the photograph above built in 1845/46 for Reverend James W. Thompson. It’s the western half of a Greek Revival double house. (The eastern half was built for Captain Nathaniel West.) When Captain John B. Silsbee owned the western half (pictured) in the late 1850’s and 1860’s, 20 of his family members and servants resided there. They occupied four floors and a basement kitchen in the 5,500 square-foot home, while the Captain sailed to Zanzibar and Sumatra importing pepper. Today, the house has fewer inhabitants, but teems with a rich architectural and social history.

At 4:00 pm after perusing the participating homes, indulge in high tea at c. 1805 Hamilton Hall, designed by Salem’s renowned wood-carver architect Samuel McIntire. For more event information, visit the Hamilton Hall website. Reservations are required.
 
by Katie Hutchison House Enthusiast

Web tour: edibleBoston: Candy-colored palette

photo by Michael Piazza, courtesy of edibleBoston (rotated by KHS)In the spring 2012 issue of edibleBoston, I stumbled upon a mouth-watering photo (by Michael Piazza) of Necco Wafers. The very thought of Necco Wafers may be enough to transport you back to a simpler time. Seeing them, nearly life-size on the page, is sure to trigger your inner time machine. Somehow, I’d forgotten -- or never known – that NECCO stands for New England Confectionary Company. So, today, I write about an inspirational New England treasure of a different sort – not an antique building, a hardy pocket-garden, or a copse of crooked scrub oaks. No, today, I sing the praises of artificial food coloring.

Yup, those Necco Wafer colors are fantastic. I’d love to see them transformed into a paint palette of rich brown and stark white with accents of faux licorice and purple-blue. Or, maybe, tempting orange and stark white with accents of faux licorice and refreshing green. Or, perhaps, tangy yellow and stark white with accents of girlie pink and tempting orange.

In the edibleBoston article, Irene Costello writes that in 2009, NECCO “replaced the artificial colorings in the classic Necco Wafer with natural dyes. Their loyal customers hated the muted colors and vehemently demanded the vibrant albeit fake colored wafers back.” Sounds like the New Coke/Classic Coke debacle. Classic is generally best; it just depends what you mean by classic. I’m with the loyal customers. You?

by Katie Hutchison for House Enthusiast

Video: Home with Katie: Design tips -- Adding a shed dormer

Here's a little video ditty I recorded (with my husband's able assistance) on a lark a couple of weekends ago. It captures some footage of the Edgartown Dormer Renovation in my mother-in-law's simplified, Gothic-Revival style home on Martha's Vineyard. You can also find the Edgartown Dormer Renovation featured, in sketch form, in a Drawing Board column I did for Fine Homebuilding several years ago. The dormer got some ink in The Boston Globe in January, 2011, as well.

by Katie Hutchison for House Enthusiast

Web tour: Design New England: The art of the weathervane

Rooster with a view. Follow the link to see this image on a KHS note card.Ever wonder why so many weathervanes feature roosters? Do roosters have special knowledge of or interest in wind direction? I had long figured it was some agrarian tradition. Not so. Bruce Irving writes in the March/April 2012 issue of Design New England that according to legend, in the ninth century, Pope Nicholas I “decreed that all church weathervanes would thenceforth be roosters, a reference to Christ’s prediction that, before the cock crowed the morning after the last supper, his apostle Peter would thrice deny knowing him.” The rooster theme eventually spread far beyond churches to secular belfries, barns, and gazebos, as well.

Many, over the years, have chosen to veer from the rooster weathervane tradition and embrace all manner of creature to signal wind direction. There’s the grasshopper by Shem Drowne atop Faneuil Hall, the dove of peace (originally) by Joseph Rakestraw at Mount Vernon, and the shark by Travis Tuck on Quint’s shanty in “Jaws”. Okay, the shark weathervane never made an actual appearance in the film, but it did get metal sculptor Travis Tuck designing and creating one-of-a-kind weather vanes. Tuck passed away in 2002, but the business he began thrives today as Tuck & Holand Metal Sculptors. What fun it would be to commission a custom weathervane, perhaps of a wire-haired Dachshund, or a Banks Dory, or a trowel. What type of weathervane would you commission? Let me know at the KHS Facebook Page.

by Katie Hutchison for House Enthusiast

Web tour: NYT: Wicker wonders

Wicker in my parents' summerhouseAvery Corman’s “Moving Through Grief, Chair by Chair” in last weekend’s New York Times touches on our unique relationship to the furniture and furnishings of the lives we hold dear. Corman writes tenderly of his late wife’s talent for finding and selecting the things that outfit their country home, their New York apartment, their friends’ homes, and the homes of those who were patrons of her shop in Bridgehampton, N.Y.

Though Corman is the author of the novel Kramer vs. Kramer, he and his wife were happily married. She died in 2004. Corman “nearly remembers” where she acquired each piece of wicker furniture, quilt, and pillow. Each had a story, her and his story. Of course, we are more than our furniture and furnishings, but they do reflect the lives we’ve opted to embrace.

I remember when my husband and I were a young, unmarried couple, living together in Rhode Island. Money was tight and our budget for furniture and furnishings was minimal to non-existent. I had grown up with my mom’s favorite wicker furniture -- on the family porch in the summer and then in the family breakfast area off season. I’d taken a liking to the informality of wicker; plus, it was more economical than many other furniture options. When my then future-husband got wind of my intention to hunt for some wicker furniture, he informed me, in no uncertain terms, that there would be no wicker in our house. Since he was typically more concerned with boats and boat gear than domestic décor, and rarely one to declare a non-ironic rule, I found his no-wicker edict charming. It became one of our pet jokes. I would taunt him with catalogs depicting fussy white wicker dressed up with floral cushions, and tease that I was placing an order. But to this day, no wicker has darkened our home’s doorstep, and a reminder of its absence brings smiles to our faces.

Furniture and furnishings, those pieces we’ve intentionally selected or intentionally not selected, often reveal who we are.

by Katie Hutchison for House Enthusiast