From Garden Yard Decor to Sculpture Gifts to Animals Statues, Mathew Welter had learned to -
Make it Pay
(Artistry in a Planned Community)
By Matthew Welter
This article was written for Log Homes Design Ideas magazine, but never published:
My grammar school sweetheart had ideas about building a log cabin--with my help, of course. It was to be adorned with carved doors, benches and beams. Artworks would be proudly displayed, and every single thing would be made by our own hands. We planned for days, made solemn vows-- it was a mission! I'm afraid the love affair didn't last, but my romance with roots, stumps and burls has survived to this day. They say you never forget your first love: me and my wood that is (and what's-her-name).
First, I started to gather the logs. I hounded my dad to help me, since I was too young to drive. Before long I had traded my way into his old chainsaw, but since I hadn't any property to build on (and under pressure from Dad to do something about the logs overtaking the yard) I started carving statues with the chainsaw and some chisels I had scrounged.
I’d begun carving life-sized people and animals by the time I was 13. A friend of mom’s gave me my first order when I was14, and I was selling my "wooden people" at county fairs and craft shows by 15. By age 16, just to make it pay, I rented a workshop and showroom nearby (I didn't know they were called a "studio and gallery", nor that I was an "artist"). My parents were concerned. Wood carving was all right as a hobby, and dreams are fine, but I should be learning a trade! I had been leading a divergent life-style ever since those first creative stirrings. They may have been right. I've never held an honest job in my life! Art is not a job -- it's an obsession. So much that I couldn't be bothered with higher education. My parents were appalled. That obsession would later expand to include a complete line of furniture that is more sculpture, and then to free-standing cabinets, doors, mantels and railings shaped from the same twisted branches, roots and stumps I used for making the statues and furniture. I've just never been good at straight lines and right angles, so it seems an artist's life is all I'm fit for.
By now I had "postponed" the log cabin. Hey, I had to make it pay, even if only to house my tools and my body long enough to finish another sculpture. Next I learned to make molds, in order to reproduce some of my more detailed floor pieces. Being too broke to take seminars, and too busy to read books on the subject, I have some horror stories to tell about wasting a small fortune on expensive materials.
By the time I was thirty there were people requesting classes! Of course I refused, too busy to hold any hands, but some of them wouldn't leave; they wanted to sweep floors ... and watch. Lord knows there was plenty of both to do, and so I started handing them brooms, shovels and rags. Maybe then they would go away. Once a few had invested some time into dirty work, I had no choice but to let them have at the tools ... and the materials ... and okay, showed them a trick or two. Before long there were sculptures, (some not too bad!) and we had to make space in the studio. We put a few things out in the gallery where people started to buy them, which everyone welcomed, because beginners have to make it pay too.
I was to learn that this is called an "Apprentice Program", and it thrives to this day. People of all ages come from everywhere to spend a few years or a few weeks. They help out in the studio and learn skills, from emptying trash to office management. Some come and go as they prepare for some new projects -- like building a log home.
Soon I was receiving more special orders than the apprentices and I could complete, so I began to take on the part-time role of designer and coordinator to the various Masters whom I would invite to help me fill the orders. True to my ridiculous childhood scheme, most of what we produce is custom-made for log homes and landscapes. These days, Masters teach one another, who in turn teach Journeymen Apprentices, who teach Novice apprentices, who teach me to use the computer -- all while I try to get some sculpting done (Remember me? I 'm the guy who wants to be a sculptor when I grow up -- and build a log cabin, of course).
Today, this unusual knowledge exchange, and my studio/gallery are a local legend of sorts. We work together here on the North shore of Lake Tahoe, split evenly by the border between California and Nevada. There is no income tax in Nevada because the bills are paid through gaming and room taxes at the gambling casinos (because taxpayers have to make it pay to). That makes Nevada the perfect tax shelter, bellied right up to California the way it is, with all that commerce going on. Get the picture? Lots of expensive estates, many of which are log and timber homes since these are so compatible with the harsh, high country winters.
These days, in my spare time (what a concept), I like to write stories about the things we do here. One of my helpers sent a story to Log Homes Design Ideas just for fun. The editor liked it enough to publish (see "A Great Front Door is Like a Bad Pun", February/March 1997) and then asked me for another article (see "Comfortable Sculptures with Singular Personality," December/ January 1998).
It is, therefore, no surprise that I dialed up the editor to tell her about "Lahontan,” a gated, second-home residential community and golf club being built not ten miles from my studio/gallery. I told her that the project would feature over 450 massive, "Old Tahoe" style homes, with architecture reflecting the varied character and tastes of each home owner. The editor liked my ideas about a community that would feature an artistic theme running throughout, as a unifying element. So I was assigned a writer's deadline along with a warm "good luck!" (It's a funny thing about my ideas--they lead to work) It seemed, once again, I had urgent work to do before I could get back to work, if you know what I mean.
All this talk about work deserves a break, don't you think? By now I’d say that I am at least an armchair authority on how to integrate artworks into massive, log and timber homes. Since I'm on a subject that I have considered for years, why not settle back in your own armchair and indulge me while I relate my vision of a log home community that encourages artistic expression?
Imagine that you and a few companions are off to see someone's grandparents. After all their hard work, they're enjoying the good life together in a secured residential community and golf club near Lake Tahoe.
The group is certainly impressed with what they see as they are admitted through the Gate House, and into a sequestered world. The forest cohabits comfortably with the lazy golf greens meandering through out. The architecture, simplistic and serene, is decidedly eclectic, almost timeless. It blends quietly with the indigenous flora and fauna, and in fact, is noticeably subordinate to the conifer forest, which is ever-present. Everyone is impressed by this massive, new indigenous architecture that exudes true substance. This place is surely an authentic Tahoe legacy in the making.
So many of the homes are built with logs and rough-sawed timbers. The structures are completely harmonious with the forest surrounding them, obviously made with many local materials.
Such tranquility had apparently inspired most of the residents to participate in a fun trend. This is a perfect setting for the display of unusual furniture and sculptures which complement both the architecture and the natural landscape. The works are evidently fashioned by a varied range of talented artists.
The group's enthusiasm prompts a passenger in-the-know to play tour guide to Grandma's neighborhood. You may have missed the snag-tree with its carved eagle and nesting brood, had your guide not pointed to it, prompting an awestruck chorus.
In a yard at the edge of the forest, a doe stands guardian as her babies graze. Up ahead, a family mingles, relaxing in a patio set that is hewn from massive Cedar slabs. A thirty foot totem pole, stained in subtle earth tones, stands guardian to Mr. and Mrs. Grey hawk’s estate on the left. They look happy to be together.
"Those people celebrated their fourteenth grandchild just last week!" reports the enthusiastic guide, gesturing. Three precious bronze children scamper playfully on an old stump growing through their neighbor's front deck.
Excitement builds as different travelers chime in with their observations. "Look! An artist is carving something in a post of that house just going up!"
"Are those real squirrels on that porch roof?”
"That fountain in Art and Thelma's entryway has become a community reference point," explains the guide.
The group passes in silent disbelief as they take in the larger-than-life portraits of some of golf's more legendary players at the entry of the Lahontan Golf Club.
After a gradual bend, the gates in front of Grandma's house come into view. These people appreciate quality. They are made up of an austere wrought-iron design intertwined around -- is that petrified wood? The front door of the house is a cast panel set into a distressed hard wood frame, depicting the occupant's family seal.
Later that evening, everyone settles down at a dining room table made from a single flagstone slab resting atop a huge root system, all polished and lacquered by expert hands. Everyone is satisfied and inspired, surrounded by such mastery.
Your friend's grandfather likes to brag about the outdoor gallery, and how it forms almost visible community ties.
"Communication among neighbors is important," he says, while you study the craftsmanship everywhere. "Art is the most primitive and universal form of communication. The visual arts offer communication at a glance and we welcome the statement that each homeowner expresses."
"Of course there are standards to be kept, the thoughtful man continues. "There are lots of ways to orchestrate, regulate and mediate such things, and the Log Homeowner's Artist's Association does a fine job coordinating the big picture through their design review process. We are proud of that and happy to cooperate--we don't even mind paying the design review fees. A local company even offers annual maintenance contracts. That's how we keep things so pleasant, you see. The fine arts contribute so much to our quality of lives, and that of our kids and grandchildren. It goes to an understanding that is subtle, yet universal, where the natural setting and architecture provide an ideal framework for such things."
As you wave goodbye and drive away there is an easy feeling among the group. They marvel once again at the artwork scattered like spice through the charming community. Some tiny children are at rest quietly on a carved bench, contemplating the sculpture garden in a courtyard. It is evident that the people who live in these homes are uniquely special, and so is their neighborhood-- for now and for generations.
A Tour with Tahoe Developer Randy Harkness
All right, enough with the lofty visions. While you were away, I have been treated to a meeting at the gallery and a tour with one of the developers of Lahontan, Randy Harkness, a kind and knowledgeable contributor to this article. Some "behind-the-scenes" considerations of planning such a community became apparent during our tour, and I'd like to share them with you. After all, the great tradition of golf, and the grand treasure of Tahoe do not harmonize gracefully by accident.
Randy and I were blessed with a beautiful spring day as we strapped ourselves in
for my on-site tour of the 720 acre development, half of which is dedicated to a world class golf course. Work crews and equipment bustled about this community-in-progress, seemingly at the top of the world!
The roadway rolled and turned almost organically, all of the banks were sculpted with natural contours, a bolder or stump protruding here and there. I was enjoying the White Yarrow and Mountain Lupine in full bloom, as the aroma tumbled in through the car's open window.
My host explained, "We 'unzip' the land, lay down a roadway, and 'zip' it back together. To accomplish this we use a specific seed blend developed in cooperation with a company that specializes in native grass species." Mr. Harkness spoke with a pride that I knew was the magic ingredient here.
We breezed past a beautiful, rolling golf green, and my sculptor's eye admired its well-proportioned lines. I was impressed with the way the composition took its lead from the distant vistas, and remarked at how easily the course blended with the surrounding forest. "We brought in Tom Weiskopf in order to do that," replied Randy. "Tom is a highly acclaimed master at golf course design--recognized internationally. This course accommodates any level of play while enhancing the natural elements." My eye studied the attention to detail. "Tom says this is the best site he's ever worked with in this country." I was enthusiastic in my admiration.
"That's Martis Creek," he pointed. "It's a year-round trout stream that winds through the entire community." Time had indeed created a magnificent place. "Look, out there in that field," exclaimed Randy, “there’s a coyote hunting for her breakfast!" She seemed unconcerned with the growing community so near. "The animals will always be protected here," said the gentle developer.
Next we stooped in front of Camp Lahontan, a five acre family recreation and activity center. I noted the whimsical, stylized animals carved into some of the rafter ends before entering the massive, vaulted structure--a marvelous marriage of stone, huge timbers and wonderful light. I wished I was small again, so I could return when this grand play room was finished, and join the other kids, perhaps for some finger painting!
We passed an impressive lodge under construction near Camp Lahontan, its rustic nature blending masterfully with the outstanding natural backdrop. I tried to comprehend this man-made work of art set into a valley, itself carved by glaciers. I vowed that my carvings would meet the preordained standard. I paused to recount some of what I had learned from Lahontan about the design of any community that respects the authority of nature:
· Architecture and landscape must work in context with the natural palette. The two elements, as well as any artistic expression, should create supportive relationships between individual components and the overall concept.
· Buildings and accessories should quietly defer to the surrounding natural landscape, as well as exist harmoniously with neighboring structures.
· The goal should be nothing less then a large-scale work of art.
Randy's car came to rest in the parking lot in front of his office, and we took advantage of the sunshine there to have one last exchange, inspired by the tour. I began to outline my ideas about a unifying artistic theme, but my technical advisor was less then enthusiastic. He stopped me, and explained that there were strict regulations in place in regard to the prominent display of sculpture and furniture, and that much of what I had in mind would not be permitted. Randy said his aversion to my ideas was an attempt to avoid "pink flamingos and fuzzy bears."
He related a story about a home owner in another development under his charge. The man had a barbeque built in the shape of an atrocious tin man, since there were no specifications in place about barbeques! He went on to say that one of the neighbors objected to the eyesore, and had sued the association for breach of contract, since he had assumed he was protected from such tackiness.
Now, to me, the only thing worse then someone getting sued is me getting sued, so in avoidance of that, I asked him if a home owner could express their family's heritage by displaying a tastefully carved and colored totem pole. Randy's response was short and sweet: "No, because I haven't figured out how to write a set of design specs for that."
I am no fan of pink flamingos, and in fact have been blamed for many of the fuzzy bears displayed by tasteless home owners, but I cautioned Randy not to throw out the baby with the bath water! He said that what people do inside their own homes is not an issue, but that outside accessories involve the whole darned neighborhood and so he had to protect his firm from liabilities, and that job falls to the Lahontan Covenants Commission.
Here the master sculptor and the master developer agreed to respectfully disagree, at least until I could review the Lahontan Community Design book which Randy had kindly provided me, and offer my own recommendations.
I have included excerpts from that document not only because they strengthen my position, but because I think they are helpful to any community struggling to overcome the "fuzzy bear syndrome," for lack of a better term:
1. Exterior sculptures will be permitted only if submitted for review and approved in terms of materials, color, size and placement. Materials and colors of any sculpture must be in accordance with the general intent of these guidelines and may not be visually intrusive when viewed from neighboring home sites, common areas, rights-of-way or other parcels.
2. Few restrictions are necessary for site furnishings that are concealed from view by adjoining areas by way of the house and its walls. Any site furnishings that become visible from adjoining home sites, common areas, rights-of-way or the Golf Course must be submitted for review prior to their installation.
I'm good with that. I surmised, the decision had been made to do the only wise thing--and that was --you guessed it-- to make it pay. In fact, I would suggest that a letter of intent, along with a copy of a colorized design be sent to any and all affected home sites in order to field any objections. I'd even facilitate the mailings at my cost.
I reckon that someone who has worked their whole life to afford the kind of rewarding life-style that Lahontan offers should be able and expect to have certain things their way, as long as it is tasteful and responsible--that's the payoff. After all, home owners, tax payers, developers and wood carvers have something in common: they all have to somehow make it pay.
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