VIEW FROM THE TOP: The building itself was created using ShareFile and other Citrix software, said Steve Nicholson, who directed the site selection, design and construction of the new building remotely, in part, from his base in Santa Barbara. He says he spent several months after Citrix’s acquisition of ShareFile “just watching how they do what they do” before deciding what kind of building would best suit the group’s needs.

by Liza Roberts
photographs by Nick Pironio

“The way people work is changing,” says Citrix vice president Jesse Lipson. “Work and play used to be clear-cut. Those lines are blurring.” As a result, “The nature of an office has changed.”
Lipson’s office, anyway.
The Duke philosophy major turned successful software entrepreneur sold ShareFile, the cloud-based file sharing software maker he founded, to Citrix for more than $50 million in 2011. On Oct. 9, to much fanfare, he unveiled its new Raleigh workplace.
The Citrix building on S. West Street took a former Dillon Supply warehouse and turned it into a place that has to be seen to be believed. With 170,000 square feet of custom-made, customizable Herman Miller workstations; a basketball court; a two-story living wall of 8,000 plants; nooks for naps; a rooftop yoga studio; art from North Carolina artists; a racquetball court; a gourmet café; fresh air from sliding doors and windows; a giant, fully equipped gym; bikes to borrow; and a bocce court with the best view in town, it’s no ordinary office. It’s green in all of the important ways, and has technology imbedded in everything from responsive lighting to automated ambient noise control. To say it’s the office of the future is like saying the Tesla Roadster is the car of the future. It’s extraordinary, but most of us will be lucky to get a test drive.

The two-story living wall – which hangs from a crane left over from the building’s previous life as an industrial warehouse – is home to 8,000 plants from 14 different species. They include several varieties of philodendron, orchid, and fern.

The building’s center is created by a cantilevered tower of eight recycled shipping containers, all named for different philosophers: Aquinas, Aristotle, Bacon, Boole, Camus, Cicero, Derrida, and Descartes. It seems entirely likely to a visitor that Citrix vice president Jesse Lipson, a philosophy major at Duke, won’t take long to tackle the rest of the philosopher alphabet as the company continues its warp-speed growth.

Envy was the running joke on ribbon-cutting day. Just about every person who toured the place – who ranged from elected officials including Gov. Pat McCrory and Mayor Nancy McFarlane to an assorted who’s-who of the Triangle’s business and community leaders – had the same thing to say, with a laugh for the sake of tact: Citrix, will you hire me?
Which is the idea.
Lipson, who found this unlikely spot for as many as 900 employees – in what was then an empty warehouse on a mostly empty street – says the building is designed not only to facilitate creative work from teams of people – but to convince them to work there in the first place. And to stay, once they do.
At first, Lipson says he hesitated to suggest such a massive, complex, expensive, and risky idea – gutting a warehouse to build an office like this one – to his then-brand-new boss, Mark Templeton, Citrix’s CEO. “I didn’t want to be the guy who got us into this disastrous real estate deal,” Lipson recalls. Templeton’s response sealed the deal: “He said, is this the place that will help you attract and retain the best talent in the Triangle? If yes, do it.”
That was two years ago. At that point, the company committed to add 340 jobs within five years – to grow from 130 to 470 workers – in exchange for more than $9 million in state and local incentives. As of last month, the company had blown past those numbers.  More than 600 employees fill the building today, and Lipson says the number will likely reach 900 in the next couple of years.
“It’s about inventing the future,” Citrix CEO Templeton told the 200-plus crowd gathered on opening day. “Powered by a whole new generation of people.” The N.C. State graduate says Citrix doesn’t have to look far to find them: “North Carolina is creating talent. The talent is here.”

Whiteboard tabletops and morphing conference rooms are made for collaborative work. Among the many pieces of recycled material from the Dillon Supply warehouse incorporated into the new Citrix building are several railroad ties that form the bases for glass-topped conference tables.

A rooftop bocce court is one of the building’s many recreational options on every floor.

OUTSIDE IN: Folding glass NanaWalls turn a rooftop patio into an alfresco dining spot.

A ride-in bike storage area has room for 80 bikes, including eight loaners for employees who need to zip to a cross-town meeting, or to take home if ride-share buddies leave them behind.

‘Climbing Figures’, a sculpture by Ranier Lagemann, scales the parking garage.

What to my wondering eyes: Donna Preiss credits her sister-in-law Susan Pardue with masterminding the upside-down tree, which was inspired several years ago by one they’d heard Andy Griffith had at his home. “Now, you can buy trees like this,” Preiss says, but hers took Pardue and six other people eight hours to construct. It has two plumbing pipes down the middle for support, and branches strung up individually by hand so they won’t flop down. Its whimsy is reflected in its decorations: “This is a Mardi Gras tree, a party tree,” Preiss says.

by Liza Roberts

photographs by Carla and Kristopher Williams

Christmas time at Donna and Kirk Preiss’s house is a fairy tale – an enchanting story with 1,500 characters. Each is an ornament on one of the Preiss’s 13 Christmas trees, and each has a story of its own.

Collected in far-flung spots and places close to home, most of these decorations are not ornaments at all. In the eyes of Donna Preiss, though, anything beautiful, interesting, or hand-made is perfect for the job. Together the collection forms a travelogue, diary, and self-portrait in three dimensions.

There are prayer wheels from the mountains of Kathmandu and painted eggs from Prague. There are wintery scenes from the White House and handmade kids’ creations. There are rickshaws from the Cu Chi tunnels under Ho Chi Minh City and toys from Angor Wat. There are blown glass balls from Murano and jewelry made by Masai. Camels from Udaipur hang next to children’s hats from Chiang Mai. Chilean dolls and Tibetan bells and Vietnamese lanterns make colorful neighbors. One tree is home to a flock of angels from European churches. Two others are bedecked with yard art collected in the mountains of North Carolina, Colorado, and Austin, Texas.

The dining room tree is covered with dozens of Christopher Radko ornaments and at least 80 made by Baldwin Brass. Every one of the annual commemorative ornaments issued by the White House since it began the tradition in 1981 are also here. Donna Preiss says that as a history major, she finds them “really special.”

Put together in all of its sparkling, festive glory, the collection and the trees that hold it represents an annual moment of fantasy and celebration for a woman who spends most of the rest of the year running and growing a major company. “My whole life has been very efficient,” says Donna Preiss, founder and chief executive of Raleigh-based The Preiss Company, the fourth-largest privately held student housing provider in the country. “I’m ambitious, I work hard. This is the time of year that I get to try to do something just for fun…to celebrate the season with friends.”

It’s a tradition that lives on yearlong as she collects the objects on her travels that will become ornaments on her trees. The trees themselves began to multiply several years ago when there wasn’t room on the branches for all of the treasures the Preisses had collected. This year alone the couple has added two trees to last year’s 11.

It’s not just the Preiss’s extensive travels that are represented. There are ornaments made by their children when they were little, some the couple had on their family trees growing up, and countless ornaments they’ve been given by friends.

Helping to keep the many-pieced extravaganza organized, pulled together, and stylish is Donna Preiss’s able sister-in-law Susan Pardue, an interior designer and event planner. “She has an ability to take simple things and make them look really special,” Preiss says. She’s grateful for the help with a project that means a good deal to her and is constantly growing: “When you decide you’re using trees as canvases of your life, it mushrooms very quickly.”

The two trees on the porch are decorated with yard art found in the North Carolina mountains, in Colorado, and in Texas.

The front hall of the Preiss’s handsome Hayes Barton home, built in the 1920s, is bedecked for Christmas. The railing has a stocking for every member of the family, including the Preiss’s parents.

Happy Christmas to all: Donna and Kirk Preiss began collecting Christmas ornaments decades ago. Each one is a story, she says, and “life’s all about stories.” She loves the chance to check in with each one at this time of year. “I’ve always loved Christmas,” she says, and the chance to entertain among her favorite things. The couple often throws three or four dinner parties during the festive season, plus a big party for more than 100 guests.

Preiss (left) credits Pardue (right), an interior designer and event planner, with helping her turn the many unlikely treasures Preiss collects on her travels into Christmas ornaments. Here, the two admire their work on the living room tree, which holds at least 300 ornaments. Many on this tree are annual commemorative ornaments and have been given by friends. “These are the ones that actually look like ornaments,” Donna Preiss says.

Public and private: A view of the executive mansion from the south. At 35,000 square feet, it is the third-biggest Governor’s mansion in the country. Its 4.6 acre grounds, which cover an entire block, feature open lawns, a rose garden, beehives, and a vegetable garden that provides fresh produce for mansion meals. The McCrorys have overseen renovations to the mansion’s residential second floor as well as to its grounds. Overgrown shrubs have been pruned so that the house and gardens can be better seen from the street and light can come through the windows.

by Liza Roberts

photographs by Catherine Nguyen

Living above the store is a good way to ensure working around the clock. Even when “the store” is a gorgeous 1891 Queen Anne Victorian mansion set on nearly five lush acres, there’s an essential need to get away. But for Governor Pat and First Lady Ann McCrory, upstairs is no longer more of the same – upstairs is now an oasis.

“It’s been a two-year project,” Gov. McCrory says of the facelift the couple has given the executive mansion’s private residential second floor. Leaning back on a sectional sofa in the family room, McCrory beams. “We live above a museum. I didn’t want our living quarters to be a museum. I wanted it to be a place where I could actually take guests and make them feel comfortable.”

With donations, furniture of their own, fresh paint, and essential repairs, the couple has turned the mansion’s five-bedroom living quarters – which hasn’t been photographed for publication in decades – into a refuge they’re proud to share.

An original plan to overhaul bathrooms that hadn’t been updated since the Holshauser administration in the early ’70s was tabled over concerns it would cost too much. But the McCrorys have overseen the repair of rotted balconies, broken air ducts, and unworking fireplaces. They’ve opened windows that hadn’t budged in 40 years, repaired antique furniture, and moved out a collection of ’70s-era decor (McCrory calls it “early Salvation Army”) in favor of things more current.

The result is fresh and refined. Newly-painted walls with 16 1/2-foot ceilings, extensive millwork, floor-to-ceiling windows, and rooms with vast proportions set an elegant stage. Modern upholstered furniture, a light palette, and art on loan from the North Carolina Museum of Art make it home.

“We’re gradually getting some rugs,” McCrory says. “The bedroom’s been without a rug until about three weeks ago.”

The rest of the house has benefitted from a fresh set of eyes as well. Among other things, a major roof leak was repaired, and painted-shut windows on the ground floor were turned into working French doors with a simple swap of hinges, opening formal rooms to airy porches.

Getting to know the house, the Governor says, has been an adventure.

“I’d never been invited to the house during my 14 years as Mayor of Charlotte,” McCrory says, but two weeks before his swearing-in, outgoing Gov. Beverly Perdue gave him a tour. “I loved it the first time I walked in.”

But after the McCrorys made it home, the Governor says they realized it needed some work: “We had to make a move.”

His motive was a practical one, and also strategic. A state executive mansion in disrepair, he says, “is not a good way to recruit business and tell them North Carolina’s healthy.”

McCrory is not the first governor to decide the same thing, or to work to improve the mansion’s physical condition.

Y’all come: The second floor’s central foyer connects the residence’s five bedrooms and living areas. The round rug was a recent donation; the Governor occasionally meets with staff at the table here.

Maintaining ‘the people’s house’

The mansion was only two years old when Gov. Elias Carr decided it needed improvements. He installed landscaping, telephones, and gas lamps. The years that followed saw changes large and small: Gov. Robert Glenn made repairs and improvements in 1905; Gov. William Kitchin bought silver, china, furniture, and a piano on the state’s dime in 1910; Gov. Thomas Bickett spent thousands on major repairs and furniture in 1917.

Nevertheless, by 1925, the house was considered so “old fashioned” and inadequate – it scored miserably on a State Board of Health inspection – that Gov. Angus McLean considered abandoning it altogether. Instead, he marshalled the energy and resources to take on major structural repairs, replace floors and walls, overhaul the kitchen and bathrooms, and redecorate the entire interior.

That kept things in fairly good shape until 1965, with a few additions along the way, like an elevator, air conditioners, and a bomb shelter (an early ’60s project by Gov. Luther Hodges). And then Gov. Dan and First Lady Jeanelle Moore founded the Executive Mansion Fine Arts Committee to redecorate the house and oversee its upkeep. The group undertook major improvements. Since then, the public parts of the building have had regular overhauls. Gov. James Holshouser and his family moved to a house nearby for part of his term in the early ’70s to accommodate a renovation. Gov. James Hunt converted the kitchen from electricity to gas, and replaced the slate roof. Gov. James Martin renovated the grounds, adding gardens including the rose garden that blooms today. Gov. Michael Easley oversaw a massive mold-removal project.

Today, The North Carolina Department of Cultural Resources maintains the public space of the executive mansion as a state historic site. The Executive Mansion Fine Arts Committee – the Governor-appointed committee begun by Gov. Moore – maintains the mansion’s furnishings and décor. The agency and the committee both hold fund-raisers to help pay for their work, which this year will include a sale of surplus furniture and other items.

But while the condition of the public mansion is well-documented – and visible to the 15,000 members of the public who tour it every year – the rooms upstairs have long been a mystery to all but a few. A private residence, it has been kept that way. Typically, the second floor has been furnished partly privately by the sitting governor, and partly with state-owned furniture designated for the space. But even longtime mansion staffers and docents with decades of service say they had never seen the second floor until McCrory invited them up.

“One evening before Christmas, the Governor had a thank -you for the docents, and much to our surprise, he invited us upstairs,” says Jaye Day-Trotter, who has volunteered as a docent since 1982 and had never been to the second floor. “I thought it was wonderful. I can see where they have a few more things to do, but I was very impressed, especially with the art collection.”

Tradition and comfort: One of several guest bedrooms in the house.

Keeping it real

Today, the Governor is excited to allow the refurbished rooms to be photographed, and is an enthusiastic host there not just of personal friends but of legislators, executives of companies considering moving to North Carolina, and other visitors to the state.

“Jim Martin and I talked on the balcony off the bedroom last week,” McCrory says of the former North Carolina Governor, who served from 1985-1993. “We sat in the rocking chairs for 30 minutes and he shared wisdom with me, and I asked for advice.” McCrory points out the balcony outside the master bedroom and its sweeping view of Blount Street.

The McCrorys repaired rotted balconies all over the house, and turned the windows overlooking them into doors. “Future families will be able to use these balconies,” the Governor says. “I’ll be an old man, and I’ll walk by, and I’ll see a future family sitting on this balcony.”

His legacy in the house – and the lives of those who came before him – is something the Governor thinks about a good deal. “Every time I walk in, I think about my predecessors,” he says, “going back to Governor (Daniel) Fowle, who was the first person to live here and the first person to die here.”

McCrory considers the work he’s doing on the house a responsibility. “I really do look at it not only as the preservation of the building – of a beautiful home – but as showing respect for those who have lived here in the past, and wanting more to live here in the future.” He says he’s spoken to Governors Hunt and Martin, and to the family of Gov. Holshouser about the house: “I’ve heard their stories. I’ve told them what I’m trying to do.”

He’s an enthusiastic tour guide of not just the second floor, but of the entire mansion, from the third-floor laundry (he needed a clean shirt) to the tiny, rickety elevator (“This is only the third time I’ve ridden in this thing. They say they couldn’t fit Roosevelt in here in his wheelchair. That’s why he had to stay downstairs.”) to the basement bakery (to nick an oatmeal cookie). Along the way, the Governor points out his favorite things.

Art is chief among them. McCrory is happy to have fine art on the walls, works he chose himself from the NCMA’s collection. “It was fun,” he says. “My mom was an artist, and most people don’t know that I actually know something about it. I love art. It was fun picking some pieces that you like, some watercolors, some modern art.” The museum has always loaned works – many by North Carolina artists – to the Executive Mansion, to senior state officials, and to public spaces within state buildings. McCrory’s favorite is Two Women with Musical Instruments (pg. 58), but he’s also chosen more than two dozen other works, including ethereal landscapes by Francis Speight, still lifes by Sarah Blakeslee, bold abstracts by Herb Jackson, Joe Cox, and Duncan Stuart, and a bright, otherworldly landscape by Kyle Highsmith.

He points out one of his favorite places to sit and think on the second floor: a small den tucked into a northeast corner of the building. In it are several family photos, a painting that was a gift from his mother, comfortable chairs, and books. It’s near the bedroom where Gov. Fowle, the first Governor to live in the house, died after just three months in residence. “His ghost is here,” McCrory says, “but he’s a good ghost. I talk to him every night…I know he hears me. I don’t get spooked. Other people do.”

“The cave” is the Governor’s favorite place to meet. It’s a deep and sheltered side porch that provides an informal setting for a conversation or a meal. It’s also just a step away from the grounds. McCrory says he likes to walk with people he’s getting to know or negotiating with.

A place of business

McCrory’s time in the mansion is not relegated to upstairs evening hours. Unlike several of his predecessors, McCrory holds many of his meetings in the mansion, not his Capitol building office. “There’s more privacy, and people appreciate more being invited to the mansion,” he says.

He sometimes holds meetings in a downstairs den, but his preference is a side porch off one of the mansion’s grand parlors – a place he calls “the cave.” Before she left her post, he says, McCrory and former Secretary of Commerce Sharon Decker had several lunches and dinners with potential North Carolina employers in its informal surroundings.

But he also likes to break away from sit-down talks.

“You get to know someone better walking than sitting across a table,” he says. “It’s better to negotiate while walking, and to build a relationship. You can gain more trust while walking the grounds. I show them the beehive, I show them the gardens. I start pointing out all of the different things being grown by the Trusties.” He’s talking about the group of carefully-screened prison inmates who work at the mansion during the day, landscaping, cooking, and housekeeping. North Carolina is one of 13 states that allows inmates to work in its Governor’s residence.

“The Trusties become almost like family,” McCrory says. He has made it a regular event at mansion dinners to ask the Trusties who have cooked the meal to come tell guests about the menu. One night, a restaurant owner who was a guest asked the Governor to let him know if any of the Trusties wanted a job once they were released from prison. He did, and in the last six months, McCrory says he has helped two former Trusties find restaurant jobs. He’s working on a third. “It’s a fun goal to try to get the Trusties jobs,” he says. “And I go visit them in the restaurants where they work.”

He also plays basketball with the inmates, pointing out a hoop behind the house near a tennis backboard he installed. “I had a big contest with two of the guys.” It inspired him to take on the N.C. Central basketball team when they visited the mansion last spring. “I haven’t walked the same since,” he laughs, “It was the stupidest thing. I thought I was 18 again. Until the next day. But it was fun.”

In the evenings, once his work is done, McCrory often finds the need to get out of the house, to clear his head. As much as he loves it, “this is a very public house,” he says. “There is no privacy.” And so many nights, as late as 10 or 11 p.m., he walks.

“I kind of have a route where I walk all the way down to the Marriott, through the Capitol grounds. I like to walk past restaurants, see the night life. I just keep walking. People are surprised. Usually I’m pretty casual, with a hat on. Occasionally we get recognized…That’s kind of my freedom.”

It’s a small slice in a life that’s otherwise almost always public. But McCrory’s not complaining. About his privacy, or his new home. “We love it. I feel Ann and I have a responsibility to leave this house in better shape than we came.”

Sterling Boyd sits in his living room, where works of art from the 16th–20th centuries fill the walls.

by P. Gaye Tapp

photographs by Catherine Nguyen

An afternoon spent in Sterling Boyd’s company is a return to days of great elegance. The erudite octogenarian is ever gracious, schooled in the day when a gentleman took a lady’s wrap and stood when she entered a room. Boyd defies his years with élan.

Classical music provides the backdrop for his apartment, which is filled with paintings, etchings, textiles, and Boyd’s witty repartee. An academic, an aesthete, and a consummate collector, Boyd has a crystal-clear recollection of every piece of art he owns: its artist, subject, and acquisition.

He is an acknowledged Francophile, but his eclectic collection embraces many worlds and cultures. Boyd has Italian drawings from the 16th and 19th centuries, Rodman Wanamaker photogravure prints of Native Americans from the early 1900s, and British portraiture. The Empress Josephine is one of his most admired aesthetes, and his French antiques, objets de vertu, and art from the reign of Louis XVI to Napoleon unite his vast collection.

He has works on paper collected in Paris and London, and magnificent masks collected on his many trips to Mexico City and Cuernavaca. For Boyd, every object – every work of art – is a particular favorite, evoking a memory, time, and place in his life.

Though his apartment is just over 900 square feet, living on the grand scale is a way of life for Boyd. His North Raleigh apartment is reminiscent of a flat in Paris, which says something about its inhabitant and the absolute joie de vivre he radiates.

The apartment’s living room is formal yet comfortable. Graciously proportioned French chairs are covered in both a handsome stripe and a Scalamandre leopard print. A Chinese rug, circa 1950, adds a bold note to the room. On the far wall, Mexican masks flank a large Chinese ancestral portrait. The French birdcage, circa 1900, is home to Boyd’s pet, Tweetie Bird.

Traveling the world

Originally from Little Rock, Ark., Boyd’s education took him to Sewanee, The University of the South; to Oberlin College; and for several years to Belgium, where he was lured into the world of art history.

He acquired his first painting on a trip to New York in 1958. Today that maritime Mediterranean scene, purchased at a gallery on 3rd Avenue, hangs alongside a modernist piece by American abstract painter Jules Olitski and a massive 19th century Chinese calligraphy scroll that extols the virtues of health and happiness.

His collection grew during a 10-year stint at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts in Richmond, where he worked as an assistant to the associate director, and during the years he spent earning a doctorate in American architecture at Princeton.

He took advantage of the university’s close proximity to New York to collect portraits, architectural drawings, etchings, and whatever else caught his eye from the city’s galleries. From Princeton, he moved on to a teaching post at Washington and Lee and ultimately to Wake Forest as head of the university’s art department.

Through it all, Boyd’s art collection grew – as did the stories and enduring friendships made with fellow collectors, artists, and dealers.

Boyd finally found his way to Raleigh in the ’70s as an assistant to Moussa Domit, the director of the North Carolina Museum of Art, at its original Morgan Street location.

And then, after years in the worlds of art and academia, Boyd shifted his talents to interior design and decoration. He worked for Stewart Walston in Wilson and ultimately established his own independent design business in Raleigh. Today, Boyd is retired, but still consults with clients on art acquisitions and décor. His conversation drifts from classical music, to the arts, to politics, or to an upcoming auction.

Indeed, some of Boyd’s most prized pieces are his discoveries from auctions and dealers – the ones that came without a firm provenance. In the rarest of cases, if he’s stumped about the background of a particular piece, Boyd always has a friend – an expert in the field – to consult.

His boundless energy has him continuing in his ninth decade to collect, peruse auction catalogs, and drop in on Raleigh art dealer Otho Cozart to view his latest findings. Because a collection like Boyd’s defies completion.

In the master bedroom, three 1850s needlework panels hang over an antique European needlework firebox from Dr. Boyd’s family home. A painting of the 19th century American painter Thomas Eakins sits on the floor nearby.

The Kowalczyks open up their home to help make a difference in the lives of children in Wake County

Gretchen, Phil, and Connor Kowalczyk with family dog Max.

by Jesma Reynolds

interior photographs by Catherine Nguyen

event photographs by Jillian Clark

When Gretchen and Phil Kowalczyk moved in to their new raleigh home last fall, they knew its elegant, light-filled rooms would be wonderful to live in. When they donated furniture they no longer needed to The Green Chair Project, they realized the house could serve a larger purpose as well.

Conservative estimates indicate that on any given night in Wake County, 3,000 or more children don’t have a bed of their own to sleep in. Instead, they are relegated to crowded beds with other family members, or they sleep on hard floors or dirty carpets that can contribute to chronic diseases like asthma. The Kowalczyks learned about the problem at The Green Chair Project, and instead of filing the statistic away as a sad but true fact, they decided to do something about it.

“It’s a shocking number, but I can get my head around it,” says Phil, President and CEO of The Robert Allen Group, a national design and interiors company that specializes in fabrics and soft furnishings. He and Gretchen decided to raise money for a Green Chair program called Sweeter Dreams that supplies beds to kids who need them. Because the organization is unable legally to accept used mattresses as donations, it buys new ones. Case workers in local schools, eager to address the problem, help Green Chair find potential recipients. It’s not hard to imagine the downward spiral caused by lack of sleep. Frequent absences, health problems, learning difficulties, and behavioral issues all affect classroom performance.

Having lived in larger cities where the scale of social concerns can feel massive and overwhelming, the Kowalczyks decided to try to help address the problem here by thinking big and starting small. As they settled in to their new house, they embraced the notion that they could use it to help the community. Inspired by a neighborhood supper club they attended when living in Atlanta that mixed up small groups of people for food and fellowship, the Kowalczyks called on five couples to join them for a Sunday dinner in February in hopes of pooling funds to sponsor 20 beds. Phil says their goal was three-fold: to build community, create a special, intimate gathering, and, most importantly, “to get kids off the floor.” As Phil says: “local needs, local friends, local chef, and doing good in a fun and elegant way that inspires us to do more.” At $1,000 a couple, the Kowalczyks crossed their fingers that everyone would respond positively.

And respond they did – with a resounding yes. Then Phil reached out to Scott Crawford of Standard Foods to put together a multi-course dinner, and asked the Wine Authorities to come up with wine pairings. What the Kowalczyks didn’t know until later is that both the chef and wine purveyor would provide their services and goods gratis. When all was said and done, the evening netted $4,750, enough to fund 32 beds, surpassing their original goal of 20.

Those beds will make a real difference, says Jackie Craig, executive director of The Green Chair Project. The organization’s board of directors recently voted to expand the bed program to serve any child in need through its household furnishings program – not just through case workers in the schools. The cost per bed is $250, which includes a twin mattress, boxspring, bed frame, and a set of bedding.

Scott Crawford of Standard Foods prepared hors d’oeuvres and a four-course meal at the Kowalczyk’s home.

Gretchen and Phil Kowalczyk

Gathered around the table, the evening’s guests toast before the meal. Wine Authories provided wine for each course.

From here and of here

The positive community spirit alive in Raleigh and so evident that evening took hold of the Kowalczyks after they moved here in 2008. Having lived previously in Atlanta, Boston, and New York, they quickly decided that Raleigh would become their permanent home. With a young son and a desire to find a great neighborhood with lots of kids, they looked for existing homes for sale with little luck. When they eventually found a less-than-desirable house in a desirable neighborhood, they turned to home builder Mark Kirby of Dixon/Kirby, who had been helping them with their search. “I knew them really well by the time we started designing the house,” Kirby says. They set out to create a traditional Georgian home, one that looked like it belonged, with a modern floorplan.

And they were decisive about what they wanted. For Gretchen, it was lots and lots of natural light and the colors of the sea, with accents of gold and silver. Phil worked intimately throughout the process with Kirby to get every detail right. “Phil has great spatial relationship,” Gretchen says. Kirby says they both offered good ideas. “Gretchen and Phil have a great eye. It was a lot of fun pulling together that house.” Phil’s eye for interiors was trained at an early age when he accompanied his interior designer mother to the Chicago merchanidise mart.

The classically-inspired foyer is the result of extensive research by homeowner Phil Kowalczyk and designer Mark Kirby – they wanted a space that was spacious and elegant without being too ornate. Positioning the staircase at the front of the house created a passageway the family uses regularly, and enabled the family to put Connor’s room close to his parents’.

Even though Phil says that with his job at Robert Allen, “I have access to the world,” he “wanted this Raleigh home to be something from here and of here.” So the Kowalczyks deliberately “bought local” as much as possible. The Raleigh firm of Dixon/Kirby designed and built the house, Raleigh-based Furnishing Solutions designed interiors, and the Kowalczyks found materials and furniture from around North Carolina. Their only requirement was that all the fabrics came from Robert Allen. “I was the boss under cover,” Phil says with a laugh, recalling his turn as client, selecting and ordering fabrics, and waiting for delivery.

Now that the house is complete, and the couple’s hopes of using it for good realized, the Kowalczyks hope there will be many more such dinners to help build the program. Scott Crawford has already agreed to help connect other chefs to the cause.

For more on The Green Chair Project: thegreenchair.org

The Kowalczyks relax in the sunroom, which is everyone’s (including pup Max’s) favorite room. Connor can do homework or play computer games here while Gretchen and Phil catch up after a busy day.

The living room, in the center of the home, serves as a hub from which all activity flows. A chandelier by Raleigh designer Louise Gaskill anchors the room, imbuing the soft, iridescent colors of the sea that Gretchen likes. Robert Allen fabrics are used throughout the home.

The kitchen’s generous island allows for intimate gatherings as well as larger parties, as was the case for the Sweeter Dreams dinner in February.

The light-filled music room at the front of the house is just that and no more. A piano, a chair, and some prints comprise the room for now. Son Connor has already hosted occasional impromptu recitals.

A vintage bamboo hanging chair in Connor’s room is a perfect spot for reading.

Connor’s room has a surf-casual vibe. Gretchen and Connor spend every summer with her family in Hawaii. Photographs of surfing relatives hang on the wall.

The master bath combines marble countertops and floors, a deep tub, Circa sconces, and custom cabinetry. Mark Kirby says the Kowalczyks were willing to sacrifice space for finishes.

Chris and Beth Collier sit in hide-covered swivel chairs they designed; beyond lies their open dining room and kitchen.

The hospital’s second floor – which once housed patients, a delivery room, and a nurses’ station – became home.

by Liza Roberts

photographs by Catherine Nguyen

It takes a visionary to dream up things that don’t exist and make them real. It takes courage to believe in the unlikely, invest in it fully, and make it your life. And it takes love, faith, and fortitude to do it as a team. But Beth and Chris Collier of Washington, N.C. do all of that with the same refined grace they bring to design. Together they have created an avant garde furniture company in the unlikeliest of places, turned a haunted old hospital into an elegant home, and done it all while raising two boys and remaining happily wed.

The Colliers live and work in the pretty, historic town of Washington (sometimes known as “Little Washington,” incorporated in 1782; population about 10,000), which sits on the bank of the Pamlico River. The town’s inland coastal location has the breeze and spirit of the seaside, and its historic district boasts picket-fenced restored colonials and Victorians. The Colliers don’t live in one of those. Instead, they’ve made a home and workplace in a once-abandoned, 10,000-square-foot hospital, built in 1907. The Georgian pile is a place with significance for both of their families. Chris’s grandfather and great-grandfather were doctors here, and Beth’s grandmother lived here when it later served as a nursing home. Tayloe Hospital was eventually shuttered in the mid-90s, and stood empty for more than 10 years.

The second and third floors of the former Tayloe Hospital are now home to the Collier family and their design business, vanCollier.

When the Colliers came upon it in 2004, they were not concerned about the building’s ramshackle condition or the detritus left behind – beds, wheelchairs, even slippers. “We jumped in feet-first,” Chris says. It took the two of them a year and a half – and a good bit of their own elbow grease – but they turned the building into a remarkable place to work and live. The hospital’s third floor operating room became an airy studio to design, make, and finish furniture. The second floor – which once housed patients, a delivery room, and a nurses’ station – became home.

Today, a giant, creaky, original elevator moves newly finished furniture from the Colliers’ top-floor studio to their ground floor for shipping. To keep the ancient lift’s parts in working order, the couple relies on the 84-year-old repairman who first worked on the thing when its cargo was patients on gurneys, not dining chairs on pallets.

The Colliers’ work is clearly influenced by the history of their surroundings, and by the spirits that move them. Sometimes literally. They have seen a ghost more than once, and felt him, too. They expect he may once have been a cheeky doctor – possibly even a relation? – because he’s apparently fond of giving women an occasional goosey squeeze. A plaque with the name of Chris Collier’s grandfather – Dr. J. B. Hawes – sits propped on a sink, providing a possible clue.

Chris Collier’s grandfather, Dr. J. B. Hawes, worked in the building when it was a hospital. The couple found a sign with his name on it in a Washington antique shop; today it is propped casually on a sink. They joke that Dr. Hawes makes an occasional ghostly appearance and likes to give Beth the odd spectral squeeze.

But it’s the spirit of nature that originally inspired the couple’s joint designs. The first piece they designed together, a gingko-leaf-shaped sconce, was sparked in 2010 by the tree outside their window. The curvy, distinct shape of its leaves also found its way into other pieces, and has become something of an emblem for the vanCollier brand (which incorporates Beth’s maiden name of van Dorp). The tree’s budding branches are now showing up in chandeliers and table legs.

Other elements from the couple’s surroundings also play a role: Tobacco sticks Chris amassed from dismantled local tobacco barns have become recognizable vanCollier design elements, incorporated in headboards and light fixtures.

A table made of vanCollier’s emblematic gingko leaves – the inspiration for their first piece, a sconce in the same shape – awaits its final home.

Designing together was a natural evolution, they say. The two have always worked in art and design in some fashion – Chris as an antiques dealer; Beth an interior designer and museum curator. At first, their creations were custom items for Beth’s interior design clients.

But after Betty Nelson (of Eatman’s Carpets and Interiors, her family’s Raleigh business) began selling some of their pieces in her store, vanCollier’s popularity took off more broadly.

“What they do is made in North Carolina, and it’s different,” Nelson says, “…so unique and beautiful.”

Nelson says she has long considered Beth “one of the most talented people I know” with a knack for “taking something that’s kind of out-there and incorporating it into a traditional home.”

Now the brand appears poised for even bigger things: A new line the couple just designed for the major interior design company Kravet hit the market last month. Soon, furniture inspired by one Little Washington gingko tree and two creative souls will be making its way around the world.

The Colliers’ double front doors once swung open to admit patients arriving by ambulance to the former hospital. Just inside the door today is a blue-hooved pouffe covered in Tibetan wool, designed by the couple for their vanCollier line.

The living room, which once served as a nurses’ station, features paintings by the artist Marcus Reichert, whom Beth Collier represents. Antiques and contemporary designs marry effortlessly: An antique chest is topped with a vanCollier lamp; A vanCollier “Gingkie” martini table and a vanCollier candlestick are right at home with a collection of weathered walking sticks, a vanColliermirror, and an antique console table. Beth finished the floors herself with an acid stain.

Foo dog statues-turned-lamps anchor a Parsons table and two sculptures Beth made from scraps of marble. The mirror upholstered in python leather is a vanCollier design.

The kitchen’s leather bar stools with stirrups were designed by the couple; sculptures made by Beth reach for the ceiling.

Old Dutch paintings collected by Chris line the hallway connecting the kitchen to the pantry and the study beyond. Seashells and books find their way into most rooms.

A dining table is the perfect link between the Colliers’ open kitchen and living room. Candlesticks designed by the couple flank a bowl Beth made in college; the table itself was a $12 thrift-store find. A gingko table on the left holds a bounty of curly willow brought over as a gift by Chris’s mother, Mary-French Evans.

A staircase from the ground floor has bannisters made by a local hog farmer who welds in his spare time.

The main floor’s red lacquered hallway – achieved with Dutch marine paint – is a tip of the hat to celebrated interior designer Albert Hadley, whom Beth Collier reveres. This was once a hallway of patient rooms.

A portrait of Chris Collier by the artist Marcus
Reichert hangs above the bed in their older son’s room.

Beth’s cozy study was once the hospital’s delivery room; now it’s a place where ideas are born. Its brown lacquer walls are filled with more art by Marcus Reichert. A vanCollier-designed pouffe covered with Tibetan wool adds a note of whimsy.

A small guest house/storage unit connects to the main house along a wooden deck marked by a whimsical chandelier.

by Jesma Reynolds

photographs by Catherine Nguyen

A Cameron Park homeowner with a gypsy spirit and eastern North Carolina roots lives an artful and enchanted bungalow life 

If it’s true that the supreme art is the art of living, then Cameron Park is home to a master. In a charming bungalow tucked away on a leafy street, this artistic homeowner has created an unexpected jewel.

“With a little home you can do anything,” she says. No rules to break, no styles to follow. Instead, the petite residence is a blank canvas for the homeowner’s creative eye and adventurous spirit.

Treasures collected from her years of far-flung travel commingle with eclectic art and sculptures by the homeowner herself. Her passion for animals is reflected in decorative objects and two lively, tail-wagging dogs who greet a visitor at the door.

From the time she was young, the homeowner says she “always had a little spot I could call my own.” So it was a no brainer more than 30 years ago for her to buy this diminutive cottage, originally built for the next-door family’s daughter.

One of the first things she did after buying the house was to open up a passageway from the front room (now the dining room) to the rest of the house. She lifted and reshaped a doorway to resemble the bow of a ship, and crafted a curved niche opposite in order to echo the boat motif and provide a glimpse into the kitchen. Though subtle, these changes create a sense of space and give the feeling of being transported on a journey. It’s fitting, because while the house is small, there is much to explore.

The homeowner’s own art is a good place to start. As a longtime state government employee who has since retired, she spent her off hours learning to sculpt. She began taking classes in 1993, inspired by the work of Mickey Gault, who is now her teacher. She has kept up regular lessons with Gault ever since.

Her work is sturdy, resembling that of an ancient civilization. Animals, wild and domestic, inspire her. Flipping through a photo album, the homeowner shows some of her early pieces, including a hippo, crow, raven, armadillo, bulldog, and guinea hens.

In the living room, she points out a particularly beloved sculpture of her deceased dachshund Special Ed (“because he did some very special things”). He now holds court on top of a bookcase.

A deep love of animals led to collecting fanciful creatures.

The dining room houses two of her large-scale works, influenced by her intrepid travels. Resting on the floor is a Balinese-looking “pouf.” Its delicate, carefully-wrought, leafy texture fools the eye, begging a visitor to take a seat. The artist is quick to point out that would not be wise: the cushy “pouf” is in fact a hollow vessel.

Across the room is A Lady For All Seasons, a full-body representation of an island woman made of clay, overlayed with copper, and exquisitely decorated with eggshell. She says another teacher, Marguerite Leon, helped her with that piece. “In all the big things I do, my teachers get very involved.”

The modest Kinston native, a self-proclaimed incurable vagabond, has tried to satiate her wanderlust with trips to nearly every continent, and says she delights in discovering places off the beaten path. She’s looking forward to an upcoming trip to Cuba with friends where she will officially visit as a “student of Spanish.”

But she yearns to go to Borneo to see the orangutans. Animals are truly her other great love. She reminisces about Jack, an African grey parrot who lived at Hunt & Gather Antiques where she and a partner rented a booth for a time. She says she fed and visited Jack every day for three years, and eventually helped find him a permanent home.

A detail of the parrot bowl sculpted by the owner.

She bristles when asked if one particular collection of animals is made of ivory. “I am your typical animal rights activist,” she says bluntly. She says her father was a great friend of animals as well, and often fostered them while she was growing up.

As the house tour winds down, the effusive owner offers up lunch on her back porch. Though tempting, it’s time to release her from hostess duties – so that she can return to her private, beguiling, and supremely artful world.

Inspired by the textures in Bali, the homeowner hand-sculpted this “pouf” which sits beneath a landscape painting by Raleigh artist Frances Crawford.

An Indonesian desk was repurposed as a dining table. The bowl in the center was handmade by the owner. A rug from Morocco rests beneath.

A Lady for All Seasons, sculpted by the owner, sits on top of an ornate pedestal and resides between a Haitian painting and a gentleman’s portrait.

On the dining room mantle, the figure at left is by sculptor Mickey Gault. The painting’s vibrant colors and “the way it was painted” are the owner’s favorite elements of the work. The crocodile skull was a gift, and the painted wooden face is South American.

The spacious sunken living room brims with art and antiques.

Pottery, travel books, and greenery enliven the coffee table in the living room.

The owner’s dogs Daisy and Sophie lounge on the back deck.

by Jessie Ammons

photographs by  Lissa Gotwals

Summertime childhood memories for me are all about the lake. Growing up just north of Raleigh, as soon as the weekend rolled around, we were off to Lake Gaston, an hour away but a world apart. Toting marshmallows for s’mores, sugary cereals, sunscreen, and swimsuits, my two brothers, my parents, and I joined cousins, aunts, and uncles at our grandparents’ lake house. We kids slept on pull-out couches and bunk beds – it didn’t really matter, because most of our time was spent outside kneeboarding, innertubing, and catching fireflies.

The second I turned 14, I got my state boating license and my first taste of independence: I could jet ski – alone! – from our dock to my best friend’s. She would hop on board and we’d spend all afternoon touring the lake, stopping for ice cream cones instead of lunch.

The house’s top deck is the best spot to view the lake.

Before too long, and much to our delight, my parents, Jan and Andy Ammons, decided to invest in a lake house of their own. They found a simple A-frame with great bones in a cove just off the main lake. As I grew up, so did the house: Hardwood floors replaced linoleum, cable railing opened up the view from our deck, and creaky ping-pong tables made way for pool. But while our weekend shack became a bona fide family home over the years, our love of the place has always been less about the space itself than about our time together in it. Or our time together outside it. Now, we end most days by piling into the boat and heading out to a certain spot on the water near mile marker 11 to watch the sunset. Sipping cocktails and listening to classic rock, we talk about nothing in particular. This “sunset cruise” has become a tradition; the latest memory-making ritual that to me is what summer is all about.

Pit Stops

Here are a few spots worth checking out on your way to or from Lake Gaston, plus some to visit while you’re there.

Flip Flops Bar at
Shady Shack Grill

Palm trees and bright colors distinguish this hangout, where no shirt or shoes are required.

183 Hendricks Mill Rd., Bracey, Va.

434-636-2175

poplarpointemarine.com 

Lakeland Theatre

Great for family-friendly entertainment, Littleton’s community theatre will this month perform Shrek The Musical, Jr. and Laugh In, a collection of gag skits based on a television show from the late ’60s.

411 Mosby Ave., Littleton, N.C.

252-586-3124

lakelandtheatrenc.org 

Munchie Wagon

Norlina’s version of a food truck makes great road trip fuel, especially the $3 cheeseburger (order it with slaw).

Corner of Hwy. 158 and Hycko Rd., Norlina, N.C.

The Pointe at Eaton’s Ferry

Located right by the prominent Eaton’s Ferry Bridge, this spot is on a lake main drag. Think tiki bar, live music, fried seafood platters, and familiar faces.

1865 Eaton Ferry Rd., Littleton, N.C.

252-586-0466

thepointeonlakegaston.com

Ridgeway Cantaloupes

Around these parts, everybody knows the best cantaloupes come from Ridgeway. Many locals will tell you it’s the state’s cantaloupe capital, and every July the unincorporated community hosts a Cantaloupe Festival.

Produce stands are along Hwy. 1, Ridgeway, N.C.

When traveling on I-85, try taking exit 226 for Ridgeway Road.

Ridgeway Opry House

Every Saturday night and some Fridays, head to this historic little building for good ol’ bluegrass jams. Words to the wise: Save room for a slice of the homemade cakes and pies. And if you happen to imply that you’ve maybe ever barely touched an instrument, you’ll likely be dragged onstage, like it or not.

704 Hwy. 1 S., Ridgeway, N.C.

252-456-3890

ridgewayopryhouse.com 

Roost Crossroads Antiques & Collectors Mall

A place to find hidden gems with local flair, like vintage small town farmers’ market posters.

135 Hwy. 1 S., Norlina, N.C.

252-456-2406

Rosemont of Virginia

Lake Gaston straddles the North Carolina-Virginia border, and not far over the state line is this vineyard. Try the dry rosé for summertime sipping.

1050 Blackridge Rd., LaCrosse, Va.

434-636-9463

rosemontofvirginia.com 

Washburn’s Marina

What appears to be a standard gas station and convenience store also has a kitchen serving up some of the best breakfast biscuits around. If you feel adventurous, try the “torpedo”: scrambled eggs, cheese, and sausage all rolled up into a pancake.

2192 River Rd., Henrico, N.C.

252-537-1335

WatersView Restaurant

While still pretty casual, this is the lakeside place for a finer seafood meal. During the summer, there’s a little ice cream window on the back side of the building that’s open during the daytime.

2107 Eaton Ferry Rd., Littleton, N.C.

252-586-2814

watersviewrestaurant.com 

Homeowner Andy Ammons is an avid duck hunter. In the living room, a tundra swan overlooks, from left to right: a mallard, ring necked duck, hooded merganser, and American wigeon.

Bluetick coonhound Bea is good company on the dock.

The downstairs game room features a pool table, nautical code flags spelling out “Ammons,” and lobster trap buoys painted by homeowner Jan Ammons.

Jan Ammons grew up coming to Lake Gaston with her family. Now, the wooden ski she holds (made by her father, Frank Fearrington), serves as lake house decor.

Jessie Ammons and her father, Andy Ammons, paddle around the cove in Hurricane lightweight kayaks, made in Warsaw, N.C.

The dock has ample space for hanging out, especially in a hammock chair made on the Outer Banks.

Daily “sunset cruises” on the boat are a tradition.

From left, Fred Weir joins Jan Ammons, Jessie Ammons, and Deborah Weir on the pontoon boat. The Weirs and the Ammonses are neighbors in North Raleigh and also at the lake.

Flags represent all of the Ammons’ college alma maters and the family’s favorite sports teams.

In the living room of the 1925 Spanish Colonial, plaster walls and crown moulding frame a generous space filled with a mix of vintage furniture and fine art.

by Jesma Reynolds

photographs by Catherine Nguyen

A self-professed serial renovator, Carole Marcotte has breathed life into her family’s Spanish Colonial in Hayes Barton.

Carole Marcotte gets a thrill out of solving design problems. With the precision of a mathematician and the pluck of an actor, her approach to interiors is exacting but creative. By taking time to discover how each room functions best, this Raleigh interior decorator, self-described serial renovator, and former part-time actress has breathed life into the 1925 Hayes Barton Spanish Colonial she shares with her husband Rick and their three children.

A cobalt cabinet serves as a bar; a landscape painting by Andrea Gomez hangs above.

A vase of protea adds another pop of color.

The result is an amalgam of spaces boldly filled with color, texture, and pieces from various periods, all set within the original footprint of the house. Rather than adding square footage, Marcotte has reconfigured rooms – shifting walls and adding visual elements – to make living in them more functional and pleasing. That’s her sweet spot: The intersection of design problem-solving and aesthetic improvement.

In the dining room, a yard-sale-purchased table is at home between walls painted to resemble Moroccan tiles. The painting is by Croatian-born, California-based artist Zivana Gojanovic.

In Marcotte’s world, no nook or cranny is wasted. She created a bookcase door in her kitchen to turn what had been an inconveniently positioned basement passage into an attractive focal point and a spot for cookbooks. A recent renovation of the master bath and dressing area enabled her to carve out an adjacent sitting room and to turn a stock cabinet into custom storage with the simple addition of drawers, hooks, shelves, and cubbies – at a minimal cost.

“Anyone can do this,” she says.

Her resourceful approach to design, which she shares with her interior design clients, is rooted in observation and patience. “It’s important to live in a house and let it speak to you,” she says. She prefers to design site-specifically, meaning there’s no signature “Marcotte look.” Instead, her goal is for her clients’ homes to reflect their own lifestyles and personalities.

In the kitchen, a bookcase door to the basement solved an interior wall issue while creating a focal point and storage for cookbooks.

A stock cabinet was transformed into a custom accessories storage in the master bath and dressing area – at minimal cost.

In her own home, there’s a dining room table that she and husband Rick (then fiancé) spotted at a yard sale on their way to his aunt’s funeral in La Salle, Ontario. (They returned after the service to nab it for $40.) It’s now surrounded by fine art, an inherited crystal chandelier, and faux-painted Moroccan tiles on the walls. More personal treasures can be found in the center hall, where family photos and beloved objects – including a shoe of her mother’s and framed vintage purses – are displayed gallery-style.

Her protean, hands-on approach has gained her a loyal following. Part counselor, part curator, she enjoys working with homeowners to “make their stuff look good.” That also means serving as a “home interventionist” when necessary, encouraging owners to part with some things while incorporating others into a more finished décor.

A loggia with thick stucco walls and a fireplace provides a four-season room. Arches mimic those inside the home and are typical of the Spanish Colonial style.

In the living room, a collection of figural art is displayed above layers of patterned textiles. Works include Raleigh artists Madonna Phillips, Mike Rigsbee and Jan Edwards (deceased), and Pennsylvania-based artist Robert Patierno. Marcotte frequently employs art groupings in her interiors and likes to incorporate three-dimensional art as well. For clients, she does her own installations. She enjoys the precision and planning involved in puzzling out placement, and says she’s quite skilled with a drill and hammer.

Marcotte’s affinity for combining old and new and her focus on reuse extends beyond vintage furniture into the realm of green living. She practices environmental sustainability as much as possible personally and with clients. That means no to VOC paint, and yes to soy foam in soft upholstery. And whether she’s purging for herself or helping clients do the same, she is quick to up-cycle donated goods to local charities like Habitat for Humanity rather than send them to a landfill. She is always on the hunt for tossed objects that can be repurposed into accessories or furniture.

Two years ago, as an extension of her philosophy on reuse, she opened Form and Function, an interiors shop on Bernard Street. There she sells furniture and accessories that are environmentally sustainable, made in America, and reflect a mix of styles. Her aim: “something for everyone.” The shop’s name nicely sums up Marcotte’s passion for both utility and beauty. As she says, finding the function in pretty things “excites the hell out of me.”

For more information: formandfunction-raleigh.com

A wolf from the Red Wolf Ramble (a public arts project Marcotte helped launch during her time on the City of Raleigh Arts Commission) occupies a corner of the loggia. The wolf’s design was inspired by Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss.

In the home’s central hallway, a family collection of photos and vintage accessories is grouped gallery-style.

A light-filled sitting room’s Moorish and Mediterranean textiles echo the Spanish style of the home. The painting is by Raleigh artist Kathy Ammon.

In the dining room, a Thomas Day walnut sideboard holds pieces of Jugtown pottery from the Williams’ extensive collection, Danish Modern porcelain, and a glazed turquoise bowl that picks up the color in one of Ben Williams’ modern circle paintings called Summer.

by P. Gaye Tapp

photographs by Catherine Nguyen

Clarendon Hall, built in Caswell County in 1842, was described by historian Katherine Kendall as “a rich man’s house.” Today it could be described as a house rich in art. Ben and Margaret Williams have assembled a collection here based on their love affair with art – and with a house, eternally young.

Ben Williams, now in his late 80s, was the first curator of the North Carolina Museum of Art and the curator of the Gregg Museum at N.C. State; he also studied with Henri Matisse in Paris. Margaret Williams served for years as the head of the art department at what was then St. Mary’s College in Raleigh.

Portraits of each other, and Ben’s paintings – from his early days to today – fill the walls. There is also a sizable collection of art created by some of the most esteemed artists of their day, who were and are the couple’s much-admired friends and regular visitors to the house.

“We put art everywhere,” says Ben Williams, above with wife Margaret. The walls of Clarendon Hall are full, but the couple’s collection extends to sculpture, furniture, and decorative objects. Modern and classical works fill the house by mutual consent.

The house’s second parlor – the couple’s living room – is a perfect example: Louis XV-style chairs, an Eames molded plywood chair, a Gio Ponti lamp, an inherited antique Empire sofa, and a copy of a Cumaean Sibyl with her scrolls are all at home together.

For years the couple visited Clarendon Hall on the weekends and lived in Raleigh during the week. Now the historic home is their permanent residence. Here, important modern art – including works by Morris Graves, an abstract expressionist from the Pacific Northwest, and works by British abstract painter Ben Nicholson – hang side-by-side with significant North Carolina art, including works by Francis Speight, Sarah Blakeslee, and Maud Gatewood.

It’s fitting that a couple immersed in the North Carolina art scene for more than six decades hangs its Gatewoods with its Nicholsons. Their summer sojourns to North Carolina’s Black Mountain College – an extraordinary enclave of visionary modern artists from 1933-1957 with a lasting impact on art today – are evident in the prints that line Clarendon Hall’s grand staircase. These works, by German-American expressionist Lyonel Feininger, who taught at the school, and by abstract painter Josef Albers, who led the school and taught students including Cy Twombly and Robert Rauschenberg, are a testament to the state’s long history as a wellspring of art.

A portrait over the Thomas Day mantle is of one of Virginia’s Crown Governors, c. 1740, and attributed to Charles Bridges, an English painter. The deep bronze color of a Bertoia sculpture mingles with the trompe l’oeil marble of the parlor mantel.

In the central hall, a sleek sculpture by noted North Carolina artist Horace Farlowe stands on a modern pedestal. Behind the Farlowe sculpture are works by Morris Graves and Edith London.

Art continues to fill the Williams’ days. Ben teaches, paints, and collects with Margaret. And every day they live immersed in it.

Architecturally, Clarendon Hall is beautiful, designed with Federal and Greek Revival influences. Interior details, including mantels, mouldings, doors, and the grand staircase, are attributed to Thomas Day, a free black cabinetmaker from neighboring Milton. Ben unearthed original finishes for the mantles and restored them with trompe l’oeil marble.

With such history, it would have been easy to decorate the house with antiques and period details. There is some of that, but there’s so much more in the house’s rooms, all of which are flooded with natural light. Clarendon Hall holds family antiques, modern furniture from Knoll, and handmade tables and benches by Williams. Indeed, the house has been a lifetime project for the Williamses. They’ve made extensive additions and installed a modern kitchen and bathrooms. The former stable – they call it “The Villa” – is currently being made ready for the Williams’ caretaker.

Thomas Day’s grand staircase, with feathery trompe l’oeil marble risers, sweeps up to a landing where the Williamses painted a portion of the wall black to set off another of Ben’s canvases, an abstract composed with gold leaf.

A tree that once stood near a family cabin in Roaring Gap, N.C. provided Ben with the wood for several long, low tables or benches that are used as coffee tables in the den and parlor.

An Isamu Noguchi table in the central hall displays a sculpture Ben made from the same tree that provided the wood for the benches.

It would be impossible to appreciate the house separately from the Williamses. There is a vibrational pull between their art and the house that can only be attributed to the love, enthusiasm, and knowledge the couple has for art and the creative process. The couple reflects a similar harmony: Margaret’s calm demeanor and Ben’s exuberance embody the same rhythm as the house and its art, all in perfect consonance.

“Art cannot be separated from life,” said Robert Henri, the American realist painter, teacher, and founding member of the Ashcan School. “It is the expression of the greatest need of which life is capable, and we value art not because of the skilled product, but because of its revelation of a life’s experience.” As great admirers of Henri, and as artists and teachers, both Ben and Margaret Williams have lived their lives according to this philosophy. Surrounding themselves with art has been the experience of their lifetime.

In the dining room, a hand-crafted cabinet featuring panels inset with pine straw weaving by Angelika Rackendorf sits in front of a Thomas Day mantel.

Ben Williams paints in the upstairs hall. Just beyond is a bedroom co-opted for the overflow of paintings that will get hung on the walls, when the mood strikes. Over the mantle is a painting Ben created while working as a copyist for the National Gallery in Washington, D.C.

The whimsical side of the Williams’ collection includes small collages by Ben, art students, and friends. The powder room, known as “The Inner Sanctum,” is a testament to the joy and humor the Williamses have found in collecting.

by Liza Roberts

photographs by Catherine Nguyen

When Frank Thompson bought two wide lots in Cameron Village in 1997, he knew what he wanted to build: A contemporary home with room for entertaining and art, and windows tall and wide enough to bring the outside in.

“It’s uplifting for me when I can see the sky,” he says. As the owner of corporate event staging business AVMetro, Thompson had definite ideas about his house should function, and why. It followed that its style would be contemporary: “Architecture has to reflect the time,” he says.

He’d already bought most of the furniture for the house he’d imagined, and had designed the pieces he couldn’t find. He also had an art collection he was eager to showcase. About four years later, his striking modernist home was finished and furnished. “The home is really about being a canvas for art,” he says today.

The living room features furniture by B&B Italia and Antonio Citterio, and lighting by Ingo Maurer. The orange rocking chairs are by Eames. Thompson almost bought Andy Warhol sunset silkscreens to hang above the dining room table (which stands behind the low wall), but decided instead on Anish Kapoor’s acid etchings, which he found at Art Basel in 2005. The Kapoor etchings replaced a “placeholder” he’d made himself of saturated rectangles.

Built deep in the back of a raised terraced lot, the house manages to remain invisible from the street, making for an especially stunning entrance through a gate in the front garden wall. A massive oak, likely planted in the ’50s, contrasts with the stark lines of the house’s window-walls and narrow pool to create a magical atmosphere.

As the house was underway, Thompson met his future wife, Charman Driver, then a fundraiser for the North Carolina Museum of Art. After they were married on the front patio in 2000, she happily moved right in. “The house was incredible,” she recalls. “I too am a minimalist. We love the same things, and the same kind of art.”

Walls of windows, made by Hope’s Windows – which supplied Frank Lloyd Wright’s houses – bring the outside in. “When the leaves are off the trees, we can see the skyline” of Raleigh’s downtown in the distance, Thompson says. Driver loves them too: “They’re really like your own painting, beautiful day or night, in sunshine or thunder and lightning.”

The couple was married in front of the memorable Golden Hinoki Cypress tree, which they chose especially for the occasion. “There was originally a Japanese maple,” Driver recalls. “I said, ‘I’m not getting married in October in front of a bare, spindly tree. We need something evergreen!’” They found the distinctive Cypress at Architectural Trees in Bahama, N.C.. Wedding guests sat in Thompson’s collection of 80-odd Eames chairs.

But Driver brought her own energy and personality into the house, introducing color – oranges and blues – to a previously monochromatic scheme. She also added her wide group of friends to Thompson’s close-knit crew, making for interesting parties.

Eight years later, the couple welcomed an even livelier addition: a baby girl, Delaney. At that point, the couple moved into the house that still stood on the back lot of the parcel, which Driver had been using for her business as a Pilates instructor and wellness coach. They renovated it to accommodate their growing family, and the main house became a venue for entertaining and for guests.

Though the family is now building a new home a couple of blocks away that will allow them to live and entertain all in one place, Thompson and Driver say they will always love this spot. “What we love is the openness,” Driver says. “The beauty of the space is really that the outside can come in. It really does speak for itself.”

The photo above the guest room bed is by Larry Gianettino.

Thompson bought the unusual red chair sculpture, made by Raleigh artist Paris Alexander out of spray foam insulation, at an auction for Artspace. “It reminds me of the work of Dutch design collectives like Droog,” Thompson says.

The black-walled powder room features a photograph of Andy Warhol, taken by his boyfriend at the time, Thompson says. The sleek bathroom fixtures are from Acorn Engineering, which makes fixtures for prisons and other institutional settings.

The staircase seems to float.

“I bought those at least 30 years ago,” Thompson says of the bentwood chairs in a downstairs hall. “They’re Danish.”

The minimalist kitchen features small works by artist Michael Salter.

The Schneider family gathers for Christmas at their historic Raleigh home. From left: Mia, 21; Jake, 15; Martha and Kevin; Lily, 17.

by  Liza Roberts

photographs by Catherine Nguyen

Martha and Kevin Schneider love tradition. When they moved to Raleigh 12 years ago, the couple had to look hard to find a house that felt like home. But when they came upon a nearly 100-year-old brick colonial in Anderson Heights, it spoke to them immediately.

It’s not hard to see why the stately house reminded them of Connecticut. Set behind old stone walls on one of Raleigh’s prettiest and most charming roads, it has the substance and style of another century. And thanks to the Schneiders’ updates, it now also works for their modern family of five. They had an advantage on that front: Martha Schneider is an interior designer and owner of La Maison, a home furnishings boutique in North Hills. With her professional eye, she turned a seldom-used back porch into a spacious family room, transformed a sunny nook into everyone’s favorite spot for talking and reading, and filled the house’s ample, sunny rooms with a relaxed mixture of French antiques, a light palette, and objects that tell a story.

A garland made of fresh pine and magnolia brightens the front hall. The Schneiders bought the sleigh bells on the newel post at an antique store in Dallas the first year they were married. The French settee is covered with a Manuel Canovas silk.

The tree in the dining room is covered in Christopher Radko blown-glass ornaments and Waterford crystal ornaments. Kevin Schneider has given Martha a Waterford ornament every Christmas for 30 years, and they give the children a Christopher Radko ornament each year. At this point, the tree is full. The hutch on the left wall is an antique from Connecticut; the round table is by Oscar de la Renta; the chandelier is from Acquisitions in Five Points.

The tree in the living room is covered in handmade ornaments collected on the family’s travels. The painting above the mantel is of the Wood River in Sun Valley – one of the Schneiders’ favorite places.

The crèche on the chest in the front hall was made by Martha’s sister-in-law, Hadley Hancock Schneider, who lives in Albany, Ga. Every year, the Schneider children have the job of setting it up.

The sunroom is “our central meeting place,” Martha Schneider says, “and also the place to go to be alone, to escape from TV, for quiet reading.”

The house itself has its own tale to tell. It was built in 1918 by Dr. Hubert A. Royster, who was North Carolina’s first general surgeon (he practiced at Rex Hospital and St. Agnes Hospital for 38 years and for 42 years, respectively), and it served as a regular gathering place for fellow doctors.

Royster is remembered today for his pioneering role in the medical field, his generosity, and his community leadership. He was co-founder of the American Board of Surgery, president of the Raleigh Chamber of Commerce, and a tireless volunteer at Dorothea Dix Hospital. Always, he was known as a man who fostered community and gathered people together in his home.

Today, the memories made in the same place by the Schneider family at Christmas are ones Martha Schneider is happy to share. “Every Christmas, we march like soliders” according to a fondly time-honored script, she says. The traditions were formed when their daughter Mia was born 21 years ago, and now include Kevin’s parents, who visit from Albany, Ga.

The Schneiders turned much of the back porch into a spacious family room with space for TV and ping-pong. The painting above the mantel is by Robert Calcagno.

On Dec. 24, the extended family attends church, reads Christmas stories and passages from the Bible, and shares a light supper. After “Santa’s visit,” Kevin Schneider rings the sleigh bells that hang from the stairs’ newel post. “Kevin’s such a traditionalist,” Martha says of her husband, who works in mortgage insurance. “He rings the bells, and he’s off to bed.” He needs the rest: He’s on kitchen duty the next day. On Christmas morning, before Kevin gets to work, he lights a fire, serves up a Kringle pastry, and joins the family in exchanging presents. After a pause for brunch, Kevin cooks dinner. Roast beef, collard greens, salad with pomegranates, and caramel cake are favorites.

It’s a highlight of the family’s year, and one Martha begins preparing for as soon as Thanksgiving’s behind them. The family’s collections of crystal and blown glass ornaments come down from the attic and fill two trees; fresh garlands of pine, cotton, and magnolia cover bannisters, door frames, and mantles; and furniture is moved aside to make way for decorative objects gathered over many years that say “Christmas.”

Like the house itself, all of the Schneiders’ favorite things have a history. “Everything has a story to tell,” she says. “That’s really important to me.”

Martha’s mother needlepointed stockings for each of Martha’s children. The nutcrackers have been collected over the years.

An angel made of grapevines keeps watch over a sunny nook featuring art deco chairs and a cowhide rug.

The pair of ultra-modern houses stands on an infill lot on Edenton St., four blocks from downtown. Robby Johnston’s firm, Raleigh Architecture Company, designed and built the homes on similar footprints, with a common courtyard. between them.

by J. Michael Welton

photographs by Juli Leonard

For newlyweds Roxanne Saucier and Nabarun Dasgupta, a post on Instagram in the fall of 2012 led not just to a new home, but to a new communal lifestyle in downtown Raleigh.

“It was a new-media type of encounter,” Dasgupta says.

The couple from Chapel Hill was scoping out homes with an architect friend in Oakwood and Mordecai when they posted a picture of themselves on the hunt. Almost immediately, Raleigh architect Robby Johnston, who knew the couple’s friend, responded with a post of his own.

“Robby reached out to our mutual friend and asked if we’d be interested in doing something with him,” Dasgupta says. “We met in person and he showed us models and diagrams and it went quickly from there.” The result wasn’t just a new house, it was two new ultra-modern houses – one for the clients, one for the architect. The pair now stands on an infill lot on Edenton Street, four blocks from downtown.

“Our stairs are about light – there are open risers and rails, with nothing solid to prohibit light coming into the house,” says architect Robby Johnston.

In Roxanne Saucier and Nabarun Dasgupta’s home, there are three different cabinet finishes, dark red-oak floors, and a solid ribbon of stairs that slashes through all three levels, tying them together.

Johnston’s firm, Raleigh Architecture Company, designed and built the homes on similar footprints, with a common courtyard between them. The 36-year-old architect now lives in one with his wife, Ryan, and their two daughters, aged three and five. Saucier and Dasgupta live in the other with their two-year-old son. They’re all friends.

“That was one of the attractions for us – here was a young professional couple our age and with similar values,” Dasgupta says. “We didn’t know anyone in Raleigh, so it was a built-in social network.”

The big idea was to build homes and friendships above the double lot that Ryan had discovered in 2011. “We’ve only gotten to be better friends because we spend time together,” she says. “We made an agreement that if we ever sell, we’ll screen potential buyers with each other.”

Their sense of community revolves around that 1,200-square-foot shared courtyard. Each couple owns 50 percent of the space, and there’s still a property line. “If we sell tomorrow, someone could put a fence there,” Johnston says. “But we agreed from the beginning that we’d be there a long time.”

Large windows line the hallway on the second floor of Saucier and Dasgupta’s home.

Robby Johnston’s expansive use of natural light and choice of materials, including the kitchen’s gray-and-white quartz counters and IKEA cabinetry with white-oak floors, make the 1,700-square-feet home feel much larger.

The courtyard’s design is a minimalist work of art by local landscape architect Corey Mason. His master plan called for enough structure for the space to feel organized, while also celebrating its roots in nature. “We were creating a space for outdoor dining, a lawn for the kids, and a boardwalk out front,” Mason says. “It’s a pastoral landscape that’s like being within a meadow – despite being in the middle of the city.”

Mason holds a graduate degree in landscape architecture from Texas A&M. He cites influences from California master landscape architect Bernard Trainor, as well as Piet Oudolf, who worked on the High Line in New York City and Millennium Park in Chicago. On Edenton Street, Mason used a light touch, piercing the courtyard’s rectangular green lawn vertically with five European hornbeam trees. Eventually, they’ll reach up 30 feet. As they grow, the families may choose to intertwine the trees’ branches – a French practice called pleaching – in a subtle suggestion about the nature of their shared relationships over time.

The landscape, Mason says, is meant to reflect Johnston’s designs, with straight lines breaking up the courtyard into different sections and rooms. “He thinks spatially about the landscape like we do about architecture,” Johnston says.

Johnston’s own work recalls its Raleigh precedents, including designs by the late N.C. State modernist Harwell Harris, and current practitioners Frank Harmon and Vinny Petrarca. “Harris was clearly one the of major players here,” Johnston says. “Frank learned from him, Vinny learned from Frank, and I learned from Vinny.”

A view of Roxanne Saucier and Nabarun Dasgupta’s balcony from Robby Johnston’s home. Each house has ample views through carefully-placed windows and balconies on different levels.

A model of Roxanne Saucier and Nabarun Dasgupta’s home sits on a kitchen window sill overlooking the shared courtyard that is co-owned by both families.

Harris had worked in the 1920s and ’30s for the Austrian-born American architect Rudolph Schindler and his California partner, Richard Neutra, as they boldly explored the boundaries of modern design. So Johnston’s two homes on Edenton Street are about more than just their Carolina heritage; they’re also thoughtful answers to questions about form and space, opacity and transparency in modern architecture.

“One is a three-story solution and one needed a two-story solution,” Johnston says. “Then there’s the yard that adults use as adults and kids use as kids.” Windows, he says, are placed carefully so that kitchen and dining spaces in both houses connect to the outdoors.

The light that reaches deep inside and the views that look out are defining characteristics of both homes, but each expresses its owner’s style. “The houses are fraternal twins – we can be a lot alike but we also can be different,” he says. “We know they’re similar and share characteristics, but they also express our personalities and the way we want to live in this environment.”

Johnston’s house, 1,700 square feet over two levels, actually feels much larger than its neighbor’s 2,300-square-foot home on three. It’s an effect produced by the architect’s expansive use of natural light and choice of materials, including the kitchen’s gray-and-white quartz counters and IKEA cabinetry, with white-oak floors. “I have a very neutral palette,” he says. “Our stairs are about light – there are open risers and rails, with nothing solid to prohibit light coming into the house.”

The house across the courtyard has the same number of windows, but feels more opaque. There are three different cabinet finishes, dark red-oak floors, and a solid ribbon of stairs that slashes through all three levels, tying them together.

“For Nab and Roxanne, because they’re working on the third floor and cooking on the first, the stairs between are about experiencing that space,” Johnston says. “We both made conscious decisions – we wanted to be more open and they wanted to be more comfortable.”

Outside finishes are also as different as day and night, though they do share a partial cladding of Carolina cypress, harvested and milled in-state. Johnston’s home employs repurposed slate shingles salvaged from older buildings, while his neighbors selected a weathering Corten steel that oxidizes over time. “They chose a material that didn’t have a history, but would develop one,” Johnston says. “As they change, the house changes.”

His clients say the entire design/build experience was enriching. “It was one of the coolest creative processes we’ve ever been through,” Dasgupta says. “It was a process where the marriage got stronger – it made us stronger as a family.”

That’s a testament to the power of good architecture – and the serendipitous nature of social media.

Artist Gayle Lowry, 68, lives in a 1940 Sears Crescent home in Mordecai. “This to me just has more presence and more character (than a new house),” she says. “These houses are solid; they’re substantial. The surfaces are worn, there are bite marks on the windowsills from dogs – life has been lived in this structure long before I was here, and there’s just something nice about that.”

by Mimi Montgomery

photographs by Catherine Nguyen

Most people know the horror of the words “some assembly required”: the miniscule parts and pieces, the half-translated instructions, the ridiculous illustrations that somehow lead you to put the entire thing together backwards. Now imagine that instead of a bookcase or wardrobe, you’re assembling something much greater – your own home.

Such was the case for the families in the first half of the 20th century who purchased and built over 250,000 kit homes in the United States. An outsized number of them ordered and put together their own kit houses here in Raleigh. At least 30 are still standing today, making the City of Oaks a noteworthy Southeastern mecca of kit homes.

Above and below: Anita Watkins, 43, purchased a 1927 Aladdin Plaza home in Mordecai in 2001. She lives there with husband David, 44, sons Owen, 11, and Miles, 8, and dog Jaxby. They were sure to renovate the home in accordance with historic preservation guidelines, and now have four bedrooms, two-and-a-half baths, and a patio they added based on the original Aladdin blueprints. Original flooring, windows, and plaster walls add to the historic charm. “We love it,” says Anita. “We don’t ever want to leave.”

These Raleighites flipped through catalogues of drawings and blueprints, selected the plan that best fit their price range and taste, and had all the materials needed to assemble that home sent right to the curb: doors, cabinets, lumber, shingles – even the kitchen sink.

Nationally, Sears, Montgomery Ward, Aladdin Homes, Gordon Van Tine, and Lewis-Liberty Homes were some of the biggest names in the kit home business. Aladdin and Sears started selling the homes in 1906 and 1908, and the others soon followed suit. In its heyday, Sears sold over 70,000 homes and offered more than 350 blueprints. The advent of industrialization contributed to the homes’ popularity, as it allowed for the mass production of building materials on a wide scale. In turn, this lowered kit home costs for customers, many of whom were members of the growing middle class that wanted their own slice of the American Dream – a well-made family home.

Above and below: Katie and Austin Smith, 27 and 30, knew they wanted a historic home for their first house as newlyweds. In 2014, they purchased a Sears Winona built in 1930 (the first house they viewed), with all “the charm and the character” they wanted, says Katie. The gray house with white trim is complimented by the white-picket fence they added to the front for their dog, Bailey. It’s a two bedroom, one bath, with original molding, floors, a clawfoot bathtub, and a built-in wooden cabinet in the dining room.

These companies made this dream accessible: They provided payment plans, allowed customers to make adjustments in materials as desired, and sent instructions with pre-cut-and-fitted materials. Owners often assembled the houses themselves, piecing each part together, Lego-like, until the home was complete.

Many kit homes were modest, three-bedroom bungalows that reflected the style of the era. Some were more ornate at higher prices; but for the most part, the majority were regular homes for regular people. Consequently, it can be hard to distinguish which are the existing kit homes within a present-day historic neighborhood, as they often look much like the houses beside them.

Above and below: Maria Bleir, 40, her husband Seth, 41, and their children Devin, 8, and Aliya, 6, are one of those young families. They live in a 1927 Sears Elsmore in Five Points. The couple specifically looked for a historic bungalow in Raleigh because they wanted a home with character; that theirs happens to be a kit home is a happy extra. “You don’t get details like this anymore,” says Maria. “All-wood doors, glass knobs on the doors, transom windows – it’s lots of fun.”

It helps to have a trained eye: Rosemary Thornton, a Virginia-based kit home expert and author of The Houses That Sears Built, was in Raleigh visiting her daughter when she spotted an Alhambra Sears home. “When you see one Sears home, you know there are many more,” she says.

She continued to search and was thrilled with what she found: kit homes scattered all over Mordecai, Cameron Park, Boylan Heights, Oakwood, and Five Points.

Briget Horton, 70, has lived in this 1928 Aladdin home in Five Points since 1983. “The Detroit” house had been divided into three apartments when Horton moved in, but she opened it again into one expansive home. An enlarged den, a half-bath, a laundry room, and a relocated kitchen are all additions to the original 1928 floor plan. She says she loves living in a 1920s home in a historic neighborhood – and she’s not the only one. “It’s funny, when I moved in, I was like the young chick on the block,” Horton says. “It was a bunch of old people. Now, it is just flooded with young families.”

Thornton calls it “remarkable” and “a historically significant collection,” with many well-preserved homes featuring a wide range of styles and manufacturers. In 2012, the Raleigh Historic Development Commission and City of Raleigh Museum hosted an exhibit on Raleigh kit homes, and Thornton gave a talk at the Rialto Theatre.

Raleigh’s high number may have something to do with its proximity to an Aladdin Homes mill in Wilmington during the 1920s. These houses tended to catch on quickly – once a neighbor ordered and built a kit home, others followed. It didn’t hurt that the homes were affordable and the economy was healthy. Many of the kit homes in Raleigh were built during this decade of prosperity, when American industry was booming.

This pink 1927 Sears Alhambra home in Five Points is an example of one of the larger kit homes that were available. The layout calls for four bedrooms instead of the standard three, and has additional elements like a solarium.

Of course, this didn’t last: Due to the financial losses of the Great Depression and the increasingly complicated structure of modern homes, kit homes waned in popularity. Sears stopped selling them in 1940, and while some companies continued to offer a small number of the homes, most did not after the mid-century.

Thornton has made it her mission to preserve this segment of American history. They’re worth preserving for more than nostalgia: Their craftsmanship and quality of lumber and materials far surpasses the type typically found today, she says.

A more traditional bungalow, this 1923 Sears Avondale home sits a few blocks away from Oakwood Cemetery. Its original layout consisted of three bedrooms and one bath, making it the perfect starter for a family buying their first home.

But in order to preserve this legacy for the city, these homes need to be maintained, Thornton says. “When you have an old house, you need to get away from thinking of yourself as an owner, and think of yourself as the caretaker. That house is going to be around long after you are.”

Here in Raleigh, that’s the plan.

Want to learn more about kit homes? Check out Rosemary Thornton’s The Houses That Sears Built or visit her webpage at searshomes.org

The Kirby’s pre-World War II Tudor Revival in Raleigh’s Bellevue Terrace neighborhood has been invigorated by a complete remodel ideal for 21st century living. A breezeway and detached home office are additions, yet blend seamlessly. Mark fell in love with the house and says it “felt like the house was made for us.”

by P. Gaye Tapp

photographs by  Catherine Nguyen

When Raleigh builder Mark Kirby saw a timeless Tudor Revival house built in Raleigh in the late 1930s by developer Thomas Adickes, he knew it would be perfect for his family of six. “I could see how we could live there,” he says. “The spaces were just right – or could be made just right without major surgery.”

Kirby preserved the house’s exterior but took it down to the studs inside, completely reconfiguring the rooms. It was an opportunity to uncover the soul of the house “lying just under the surface,” he says. It was also an opportunity to make the house work for the way his family lives today (which includes homeschooling the children), while preserving the original builder’s detail and design. As a builder himself, Kirby says he is passionate about “building a home that will be worthy of preserving – to think generationally – even though it’s not fashionable to do so these days.”

Mark Kirby designed the fireplace millwork in the sitting room, which adjoins the kitchen and a formal dining space. Kirby decided to combine these three typically separate areas into one highly-functioning hub. The result meets the expectations of all the Kirbys, even the adorable English bulldog puppy, Gus.

All of the special details in the house are Mark Kirby’s inspirations. As a “new classicist,” his design philosophy is to look back to the past, “not bound by it,” but reinterpreting it. A vestibule just off the foyer is lined with limed oak panels, and the floors are made with reclaimed wood from old tobacco barns.

An elegant steel handrail graces the multi-leveled staircase.

A casement window is one of the salvaged materials from the original house that gained new life under Mark’s direction.

The result of the renovation is a sanctuary where the Kirby family – Mark, Christin, and their four young children – are able to live a modern life in an old house, embraced by comfort, beauty, and charm. Bespoke elements abound, like a polished iron handrail on the winding staircase, and a limed oak vestibule leading into the family room. Simple yet sophisticated, each room benefits from Kirby’s attention to detail. Floors made of wood reclaimed from old tobacco barns are pristinely finished. Original materials from the house were also repurposed. Kirby considers himself a new classicist, blurring the lines between new and old, “not bound by the past, but looking back creatively.”

Mark designed the cerused (limed) oak table in the kitchen with elements inspired by much-admired English designer C.F.A.Voysey. The family of six dines here every night. Practical but stylish chairs and benches are covered in a white polyester faux leather. Open shelves provide storage on either side of a soaring window overlooking the front yard.

A second den on the covered terrace opens off the hub of the house.

Just off the kitchen, a pantry features open shelves for colored glass and crockery, with baskets tucked below.

“It was actually a lot of fun,” he says. “It was an opportunity for us to draw even closer as a family.” His young children “swung the first sledgehammers – with a great deal of effort – when we started the demo,” he says, and wrote “little notes” on the wall studs with Sharpies “that may be found some day when some other family remodels this house in some distant future.”

Today, a house built more than 75 years ago reflects a modern builder’s love for houses and for family, and like all great houses, mirrors its owners, preserves the past, and makes way for the future.

The original blueprints of the house hang in Mark’s home office.

A vibrant Sue Scoggins painting hangs in the office, as well.

The decoration and ambience of the home office reflect Kirby’s ease and style. He works at a built-in desk made from wormy chestnut.

A tranquil master suite is an addition to the original house. The bedroom shares a fireplace with an expansive bath, blurring traditional lines.

Modern details are integrated into classic cabinetry designed by Kirby, and a casement window original to the house looks out over the kitchen.

Christin homeschools the children in a spacious schoolroom where they meet for morning lessons. There is an atmosphere of camaraderie in the classroom that permeates the house.

Though the house is large, Mark and Christin wanted the boys to share a bedroom. Neatly-made beds with striped duvets and lime green quilts line a wall painted in Benjamin Moore’s Hale Navy. Tall headboards in white faux leather accented with brass tacks are stylish and practical.

With a modern twist on pink, designer Ashley Thompson paired pink and white curtains and bedding with a black chair and ottoman. A bassinet the children slept in as babies now holds stuffed animals and dolls.

To the right of the front entrance, a sculpture by Raleigh sculptor Paris Alexander welcomes visitors.

by Jesma Reynolds

photographs by Catherine Nguyen

When a Raleigh couple went looking for their ideal vacation home in Asheville, they imagined a log cabin deep in the woods. What they found instead was a mid-century modern five minutes from downtown with spectacular views of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The wife, a noted decorator and shop owner, was quick to grasp the exceptional qualities of the contemporary house, situated on a beautifully flat three-plus-acre lot and designed by the late Bert King, one of Asheville’s most prolific and prominent mid-century architects.

A bubble chair provides prime viewing of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

“I can walk into a house in Asheville and immediately recognize it’s by him,” she says. Theirs is a prime example. King “was a classic modernist who tended to design mid-size houses, taking advantage of the great views,” says George Smart, founder and executive director of Durham-based North Carolina Modernist Houses. Clean lines, an intention to bring the outdoors in, and natural materials of wood and stone are all hallmarks of a King residence. A 1949 graduate of N.C. State’s School of Design, King and his firm were widely known for commercial projects including the award-winning design of Warren Wilson Presbyterian Church and College Chapel in Swannanoa, built in 1964. And even though he designed houses more for his own enjoyment than for the income they generated, King’s 40-plus-year career resulted in forward-thinking homes all over Asheville that bear his signature style.

In the entry hall, a Murano glass sculpture commands attention. The paneled wall is stained to mimic Danish teak.

It’s a style the owners were eager to embrace. Most of the changes they’ve made since purchasing the house in 2008 have aimed to honor the architect’s original vision. “Everything is oriented to the view,” says the wife. “This man was a genius.” From hefty stained ceiling beams embedded in a soaring A-frame ceiling to streamlined flat-front kitchen cabinets, almost everything is original. All of the walls have been painted a bright gallery white to allow the architecture and the art (mostly local) to take center stage. In a prominent corner of the largest room – a combined dining and living space that opens to a deck and pool – a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows has replaced an obtrusive bar and tiny windows that the wife guesses must have been added by previous owners. Views of the ridgeline now intermingle with the room, connecting the interiors to the natural beauty outside.

A modern textured wallpaper grounds an entry wall, where the circular pattern is echoed on the lamp base, pair of poufs, and area rug. “It wasn’t intentional to begin with, but when I started putting art up, my girlfriend came over and said ‘So, you’re doing circles,’ I said, ‘Oh, I guess I am.’”

For the wife, who had no prior decorating experience with mid-century interiors, the house became a laboratory for learning about that particular style and movement: “I thought, I’m going for it. I’m going to immerse myself in this. And because I was dealing a little bit in antiques up there, I would talk to dealers who are my friends.” She was committed to featuring vintage pieces as a way to honor the house’s style and because “re-use is the name of the game.” Her aim was to create warm, modern interiors without being too much of a purist. Completed in the later part of King’s career in 1979, the house’s impeccable design made her job easy, she says.

The stone fireplace, ceiling beams, and connection to the outdoors are signature elements of architect Bert King. A pottery bowl by Marsha Owen on the dining table came from the Mahler Gallery in Raleigh. The encaustic paintings above the sectional sofa is by Asheville artist Constance Williams.

The kitchen, dining, and living spaces merge seamlessly to function as one spacious room. Pocket doors to the left of the kitchen reveal a study that can also function as additional sleeping quarters.

And Asheville itself helped – the city’s thriving arts-and-crafts scene became the owner’s trove for colorful paintings, fiber works, works on paper, and pottery. Her approach was to choose art for specific spaces, not unlike King’s careful placement of houses within a landscape. She also tapped Asheville’s mid-century dealers to locate key objects. In the kitchen, pieces of vintage aqua-green pottery rest atop open stainless shelves where they also get a fair share of use. “We entertain a lot up there, so I’m whipping that stuff out. It’s not just for pretty.” To accommodate “all the bodies” that her three older children bring along as houseguests, there are modern sofa beds in the study and downstairs guest quarters, as well as a pair of beanbag chairs in the boys’ room that contain full-size mattresses that flip out and lay flat. It is functionality at its finest.

A sweeping deck off the back of the house affords views of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

A whimsical Rebecca Kinkead painting hangs above a collection of vintage, aqua-green pottery that makes for a pretty arrangement and easy access when entertating. The orientation of the bar and stools faces views of the ridgeline.

A guest room blends cozy quilts, a pair of Robert Patierno woodcuts, and mid-century furniture. The metal birds are by Raleigh artist Bill Hickman.

On the back of the house, a covered porch and sweeping deck are the connectors to the pool, an original feature that had been covered up. From there, one of many paths winds down to a labyrinth garden that encircles a metal sculpture by Raleighite Matt McConnell. It’s one of several works by Raleigh artists the couple have installed. A striking female sculpture by Raleigh sculptor Paris Alexander welcomes visitors by the front door, and a 17-foot earth-cast gyre, completed last summer by Thomas Sayre, emerges organically from the ground at the side of the house. “It’s tall enough to be seen from inside without taking away from the house,” the wife notes.

“I always wanted a black and white room with a shot of red,” says the homeowner. She found the vintage slingchair for the study from a mid-century dealer locally. On the walls are a depiction of a waterfall by Asheville painter Mitchell Lonas and an abstract painting by Santa Fe-based artist Peter Burega.

The boys’ bedroom was originally a master bathroom. “I think King would have understood our need to change the configuration. We were a young family when we bought it,” says the wife.

Through the process of working on the residence, the wife developed a passion for modernism and has since traveled on tours with North Carolina Modernist Houses to Los Angeles and Palm Springs to see more examples of that particular architectural style. Last month, she and her husband hosted a dinner for a group of 35 Mod Squad enthusiasts from NCMH who traveled to Asheville to tour some of its modernist homes. Through the lens of the couple’s King-designed house, guests enjoyed views of the Blue Ridge Mountains and the thoughtful restoration of the residence. “We kept his spirit,” she says.

In the master bedroom, a landscape painting by June Ball hangs above the bed; a watercolor from a hiking trip to England lends color on the opposite wall.

The wife opened up a closet in the master bedroom to create an office nook that looks out on Sayre’s sculpture.

Raleigh artist Thomas Sayre installed an earthcast gyre last summer on the grounds.

A Hickory Furniture dining table and chairs in a Liberty of London fabric sit beneath a red Fortuny chandelier. Turquoise walls and Zoffany panels help set the dramatic vision for the home.

by Jesma Reynolds

photographs by Catherine Nguyen

It only takes a spark, so they say. In the case of Elisabeth and Todd McGowan’s recent house renovation, a decision to upgrade their kitchen led to a total first-floor overhaul that now brims with sophistication and style.

An Urban Electric light fixture hangs above a table and chairs in the breakfast nook. The striped Roman shade fabric is by Hill Brown.

A massive central island has a soapstone top and cobalt base. The hood and stove are La Cornue; Hickory Chair barstools are covered in a Sister Parish fabric.

Starting in the kitchen, they selected a celestial blueish-lavender-streaked granite for the bar that helped direct other decisions in that space. Cobalt cabinets and a La Cornue range and hood surround a generous square island with a cobalt base that serves as a central gathering spot.

Cobalt blue cabinetry and Azul Macaubas granite make for a dramatic bar.

In the hallway, a Cole and Sons tree wallpaper serves as the backdrop for a chest and mirror found on 1stdibs.com. The lamp was purchased at Raleigh’s La Maison, and the set of mounted agate slabs came from Ryder Hall, also in Raleigh.

On a trip to Atlanta, the two spotted a Fortuny glass chandelier and chose a wow-red version for the dining room. They then picked a brilliant turquoise blue paint for the walls. The contrast is striking. “She’s not afraid to take risks,” Connell says. Though admittedly there were last-minute doubts about the choice of the bold red chandelier just before its arrival, Elisabeth now says she loves it, as does husband Todd, who claims it’s one of his favorite things.

With a running color theme of red with splashes of blue established, Connell suggested a pair of Rose Tarlow sofas upholstered in lipstick red leather for the family room. Hand-blocked blue- and-red star Peter Dunham drapery panels and club chairs in a Lisa Fine blue-and-red weave juxtapose to create an effect both dramatic and alluring. 

In the foyer, a piece of art featuring a cotton field by Thomas Sayre hangs on the wall above the stairs.

In the family room, a pair of Rose Tarlow sofas upholstered in Jerry Pair red leather make a statement. The club chairs are upholstered in a Lisa Fine weave. The rug is from The Rug Company. Peter Dunham hand-blocked drapery panels reinforce the blue-and-red theme.

A softer, more ethereal look is employed in the mostly green-and-white living room, where one of Elisabeth’s treasured pieces, a Swedish grandfather clock, stands. Plenty of natural light from a bank of French doors creates a soothing atmosphere. Connell went back to Peter Dunham’s collection for a large, graphic fig-leaf print for drapery panels and pillows. She also introduced Elisabeth to Chapel Hill metalwork artist Tommy Mitchell, whose delicate framed floral sculptures grace a wall.

Drapery panels, a side chair, and pillows feature a Peter Dunham fig-leaf print, anchoring the otherwise ethereal living room. An admirer of Swedish style, Elisabeth McGowan found the Swedish grandfather clock at A. Tyner in Atlanta. The custom chandelier is by David Iatesta.

A collection of framed, metal floral sculptures by Chapel Hill-based artist Tommy Mitchell hang on the wall.

The final effect of the renovation is at once timeless and effortlessly modern, something that was part of Elisabeth’s original vision as she and Todd planted their roots here. “We don’t plan to ever move. This is our forever house. I am picturing our granchildren having an Easter egg hunt in the garden one day.”

The McGowans spend much time on the covered porch and deck that overlooks their yard and gardens. The metal outdoor table and chairs are from Restoration Hardware.

The house’s front exterior is charming and elegant.

The couple enlisted garden designer Meriwether Hill to help find boxwoods large enough for their pair of Versailles planters, painted in a striking French blue.

Members of the N.C. State Department of Fraternity and Sorority Life mingle with Triangle-area Kappa alumni at the house’s grand opening party in July.

by Mimi Montgomery

photographs by Keith Isaacs

Raleigh interior designer Carole Hollowell has designed many houses over the years – some for large families, some small. But creating a home for a sisterhood of 60 presented a new kind of challenge.

The Kappa Kappa Gamma living room sets the tone for the rest of the house: Sophisticated yet young and stylish, it’s also suited for the wear-and-tear of college students. Hollowell found furniture and design elements from a myriad of sources, both for budget practicality and to keep things fun. “There’s a whole realm of things,” she says, “from antiques to things I shipped in from Target … I mixed old and new.” The wooden chairs on the back wall are antiques, as are the chest and gold wall-mounted candle sconces. The iris painting that hangs above was made and donated by a local Kappa alumna. The N.C.-manufactured sofa and chair are upholstered in blue velvet, a luxurious choice that simultaneously hides spills and scuffs. A marble-topped coffee table sits atop an antelope hide rug made of polypropylene, which Hollowell says is “good for high traffic” and can be cleaned easily (while still looking chic).

Her client, the Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority, had a tall order: To turn a well-worn onetime fraternity house at N.C. State into a fresh, comfortable showplace for its first-ever chapter at the university. KKG wanted to create a house its inaugural pledge class would be excited to move into come spring semester.

Hollowell stands in the Kappa living room.

With State’s new Greek Village still in the works, the hunt was on for something the Kappa women could start renting this school year. A previous fraternity house off Western Boulevard had an industrial kitchen, large dining and living rooms, and 30-odd double bedrooms. But unsurprisingly, given its previous life, the house was in need of a strong dose of TLC. It got new floors, a fresh coat of paint, and what Hollowell calls “a good scrub-down.”

The study room is outfitted for late-night cram sessions. Stencil chairs Hollowell found online in white plastic sit at a distressed pine table long enough to accommodate a big group. The flower artwork on the wall from Wisteria provides a pop of color to keep things fresh.

Then it was time to design the interiors. “There was zero personality,” she says. The house needed to get some, and it needed to work hard, too. It had to be comfortable but supersized; resilient but pretty. And the budget was tight. Hollowell says she was up to the challenge, taking into consideration its high traffic needs while “making it feel a little more residential.”

An L-shaped sofa sits at the opposite end of the study room, perfect for a quick power nap. Mirrors, pop art, and a colorful Target lamp keep the room feeling open.

A hallway lounge off the women’s rooms is a fun mish-mash. Lamps from Target mix with Vanguard upholstery, cowhide stools, and graphic art.

Hollowell had previous experience designing furniture showrooms that spanned up to 60,000 square feet, so she wasn’t daunted by the scale. After visiting other sororities at State and UNC-Chapel Hill for inspiration, she sent visual design boards and budget breakdowns to Kappa officials for approval, outlining her plan for a young, colorful house with a touch of sophistication.

The grand opening.

The dining room is industrial and spacious while still stylish. Blue-lacquered bamboo chairs were found online complete with cushions, “for budget and a pop of color,” says Hollowell, while the tables are from a restaurant-grade table website. Hollowell had banquettes custom-made at Williams Upholstery in an ikat fabric in blues, greens, and white to complement. Of course, they’re also teflon-treated for the inevitable spills.

Colorful art and accessories keep the hallway lounge eclectic and homey.

The result is stylish and of-the-moment, but also practical. Hollowell is the mother of 15- and 17-year-old daughters, so she knows how young women live and what they need in a home. In the living room, dark colors (like navy velvet) and leather wear well and hide stains; the printed dining room banquette seats and backboards are Teflon-treated for easy wipe-downs. Lounge areas are hang-out ready with comfy sofas, while long tables with lots of seating and whiteboards on the walls are designed for studying. Bright colors, accessories, and colorful art abound.

Guests enjoy the the house’s July opening party.

“It was a lot of fun,” Hollowell says of putting the space together. “It was just so different than anything I’ve ever done.” It’s enough to make anyone nostalgic for the college days. “I’m going to invite myself back there,” she says with a laugh. Can we come, too?

A long view of the garden, looking north through a mixed planting of pyramidal boxwoods, perennials, and annuals. Delicate spheres of society garlic echo the shapes of the garden’s topiary shrubs and add long-lasting color to the gridded parterres.

by Laura Frankstone

photographs by Catherine Nguyen

If my garden could talk, you would hear mostly French, with traces of North and South Carolina-inflected English.

The casual placement of boxwood topiaries lends a less formal tone to this traditional formal garden motif.

I lived in France for three years as a young child; the shapes and patterns of that country’s elegant formal gardens became imprinted in my heart. This was, as far as I could tell, the way things grew.

In my grandmother’s garden in Charlotte, luscious gardenias and glowing panicles of snowball bushes thrilled me to my core. Her verdant oval of lawn studded by white iron glider benches and chairs was my one constant in a childhood of frequent moves, the dislocations of a military family’s life.

An ironwork sofa, chairs, and table provide comfortable and cozy seating on the terrace.

In the border plantings, boxwood topiaries alternate with frothy annuals and perennials, such as phlox, peonies, and rose campion.

Phlox “White Flame” adds bright splashes of white to the garden’s many greens and pale pastels.

My mother-in-law’s Charleston courtyard garden was proof that formal design could live happily in an intimate setting. There grew a deft mix of herbs, flowers, and ferns, with graceful seating for conversation.

My garden’s French accent has grown stronger over the years, with many visits to France. A pilgrimage I made to Le Jardin Agapanthe in Normandy, the gardens of brilliant garden designer Alexandre Thomas, was especially transformative, showing me you can use traditional French garden motifs in free and fresh ways.

The view along the garden’s north-south axis shows a pair of custom-made iron tuteurs centering square central parterre beds. There are also furniture groupings for dining, conversation, and stargazing.

The stones chosen for the terrace and pathways were carefully selected to support the garden’s cool and tranquil color palette.

My garden tells many stories, those of an artist-gardener who plants for texture, color, and shape, more than from horticultural considerations. It tells stories of my daughter’s wedding, rehearsal parties, receptions, countless dinners, and birthday celebrations of children and grandchildren. It tells the story of 3 a.m. meteor showers, seen from two outdoor lounge chairs given to me expressly for the purpose of stargazing.

What those other gardens told me, and what my garden says, is that in order and beauty, there is comfort. Life provides enough pyrotechnics. Let our gardens give us peace, space for reverie, and delight.

by Liza Roberts

photographs by Annie Cockrill

On a balmy summer evening, guests invited to a dinner for the Jamie Kirk Hahn Foundation followed directions to a “top secret” location in suburban Cary, where an unremarkable street led them to a magical landscape. Among 30 acres of hay fields, gardens, woods, and farmland, guests discovered a tented patio and airy building lit with candles and adorned with wildflowers.

Their hosts, English and Will Sall, welcomed them to the beguiling spot, tucked into the edge of a mature hardwood forest planted with more than 10,000 ferns. With a tennis court on one side and a meadow on the other, the setting appeared tailor-made for a party. It was.

The Salls’ carbarn, a renovated garage, is designed for parties. The patio is perfect for tenting; inside, an open, airy space complete with a kitchen and bathrooms makes it easy to gather large groups. The meadows on the property are planted with “a matrix of native Schizachyrium scoparium (little bluestem) amongst the existing fescue,” says designer Whatley. “Native grasses prefer compacted soil, very little water, and no fertilizer. This makes them a very sustainable choice, because once planted, they require minimal inputs in the future.”

The Salls’ fern gardens are composed of a mix of 10,000 fern plants, most of them one of four species, says landscape designer Daniel Whatley. The most prevalent species is Dryopteris erythrosora (autumn fern), “the strongest performer by far.”

“We use it for big events, cookouts, family dinners,” says Virginia Sall, Will’s mother and the owner, with her husband John (co-founder of software giant SAS), of the building and its surrounding acres. The couple’s house stands above the fern-filled glade, a discreet distance from the hubbub below.

Polystichum polyblepharum (tassel fern) and the deciduous species Matteuccia struthiopteris (ostrich fern) are also planted in large numbers.

All of the ferns were contract grown for the Salls by Johnson’s Nursery in Willard, N.C.

The garden also features some Athyrium filix-femina (lady fern) and Athyrium ‘Ghost’ (ghost fern or Japanese painted fern).

This lush, party-perfect setting is one small piece of a sprawling sustainable landscape that features woods and streams, four acres of organic farmland that grows vegetables for nonprofits and restaurants, and about 15 acres of open fields, all maintained with minimal irrigation and without the use of chemicals.

It got its start, as so many home-improvement projects do, with something much smaller in mind. “The impetus for it all began as a drainage project,” says Kurt Bland of Bland Landscaping, who helped put it all together. “That turned into a shade garden, that became a master planned landscape, which has now spawned a philanthropic teaching farm to cultivate awareness over the importance of healthy, local food systems.

The Salls’ house, which features a wraparound porch, sits on 30 acres of fields, forests, and gardens. Built in 1990, it has been renovated in recent years by Will Alphin.

Bland’s colleague, Daniel Whatley, says the intent is “to create a natural landscape and not a manufactured one.” To accomplish that, “one must not fight nature, because nature will always win.” Instead, the Bland team essentially figured out what already thrived on the land and grew more of it. “A big part of this is allowing the landscape to change and evolve on its own. If a particular species is more successful than another, that is O.K.”

That live-and-let-live philosophy extends to the local deer population, which is numerous. The Salls fenced their vegetable garden and farmland (and a 10-chicken coop, a gift from their friend, N.C. Senator Josh Stein, currently running for Attorney General), but have planted the rest of the property with deer-hardy vegetation. As a result, every evening, when herds emerge from surrounding woods for a stroll in the meadows, they cause no damage.

The turf-roofed “wellhouse” contains well pump equipment, and serves as a home base for the groundskeeper and gardener.

It makes for a bucolic tableau from the eco-friendly carbarn, where the family regularly holds gatherings and fundraisers for local nonprofits (which have also recently included the Institute for Nonprofits at N.C. State). “We love being able to do it, and don’t have to disrupt ourselves, don’t have to move the furniture out of the house, to do it,” Virginia Sall says. “It really dresses up or down, and it’s so cool for the kids.” Those kids – all now grown – also use it for potluck dinners with friends and movies on the lawn, projected onto a portable movie screen.

In the fenced family garden, the Salls grow their favorite vegetables and herbs.

Will Alphin of Alphin Design Build, who has renovated the house and completed several projects on the property, created the carbarn out of what used to be an extra garage. It now incorporates a large event space, a kitchen, bathrooms (with sinks that elegantly channel waste water into toilet cisterns), and hidden storage, in addition to spacious patios on all sides. When not needed for a party, it can also revert back to its earlier incarnation. “We still park in it,” Virginia Sall says.

An honest practicality and lack of pretense is one of the landscape’s defining characteristics. So is a commitment to the future. “This is not a project where we are designing for next season,” Bland says, “as much as we are thinking about the next 50 to 100 years.”