architecturally articulated.

Have you ever experienced something for the first time: listened to a certain song, read a specific text, seen some new place or done some new thing—and at the very moment you absorb it into your senses, it defines you? You realize that this thing is you—and that you are this thing? That, whatever it is—even if you can't say how or why—it is truth to you, as much as your own existence.

I think that is the aspiration of Art; I think that, when Art is successful, that's exactly what occurs.

It's like seeing your reflection for the first time: startling, revelatory—and you wonder how you lived this long without recognizing your own face.

For me, this has happened a piece at a time: Denmark (Danish Modernism, Philosophy, Lifestyle), Photography (Light, Color Theory, Composition, Optical Science), Design (Interior, Industrial, Graphic) and, among others, Architecture and Horticulture.

When we were in Del Mar, CA this week, we stumbled upon a home that was the architectural actuality of all my unarticulated descriptions of what my ideal home could, should and would be.

This house defines me in many, many ways:







I would certainly have a thing or two to say about the landscaping—and the location of the house—but I could not improve on the architecture of this home one wit.

It's the melding of the elements: the prominence of the stone work; the accents of the wood; the fluted, semi-frosted windows; the bold, angularity of the walls and roof; the absolute homage to nature that I feel when I see it.

Perfection.

It's Frank Lloyd gone Modern, and it's my dream home—and I know it. I feel more complete, somehow, as if I know myself better now.

wes.