GRIZZLY PEAR

written snapshots

Category: Artifacts

  • Our House

    To celebrate our 10 year anniversary, I’m sharing this house that has been a part of our marriage for 9 years and 7 months.

    The 1,100 sf house was constructed in 1952 and needed a complete renovation.

    Along with an complete update of the plumbing and electrical systems, the kitchen was rearranged with the former laundry room opened up for interior access and the insertion of a new powder room within the existing footprint.

    Exterior work included a new roof, retrofitting the carport structure, and new concrete flatwork.

    We performed the work as owner, architect, and general contractor overseeing the major trades. We also installed and refinished the interior throughout the house.

    Project Description

    This project was a constant irritant for four years, and we only lived in it for a few months. But it was worth it. We’ve had a great tenant for the last five years, and it set me up for the second phase of my career.

    I had always been an employee without subordinates. This was the first time I managed other people. I suspect the hard won experience in difficult negotiations and contractor conflicts came through in my interview, helping me grab this job and preparing me to be an Owner PM.

    Every architect should remodel their house, once.

    This remodel also taught me to treasure the moment and trust my wife.

    By the time we moved in, she was pregnant with the boy. Once he arrived, we moved back in with her parents so they could help with the kids. Then the girl started school in their neighborhood and we never came back.

    The universe doesn’t care how long you’ve taken to pursue a dream. Maybe you’ll get nothing, but sometimes it will be kind. Be grateful for those moments, however short. We got a Thanksgiving and Christmas in our house.

    Victory is fleeting, and time moves fast. This experience taught me to be picky with my commitments. I learned to focus on activities where I’ve already won by merely doing. (That’s why I’ll never do another house remodel!)

    Remodeling isn’t easy with two architects. I tend to rush, but she would sense something amiss and pause. So we’d stop. And think. And redesign. Again and again.

    Each delay took days, but it kept getting better. Replay this drama a few times and I got the message. If she’s not ready, then I know something is wrong. I learned to trust her instincts.

    I suspect most folks can learn such lessons without a miserable house remodel, but this was our crucible. Here’s to a decade, let’s hope for many more!

  • Blonde bonobos bounced boorishly, brazenly belching behind brunette beavers belligerently bereaving burst bubbles by beige barbed birches.

    An outline handsketch of a hand shaping the ASL American manual letter “A”, in red ink on a yellow spiral bound steno notebook.
    Pink and blue yoga mats on beige tile, strewn with scrap paper and toilet paper tubes.

    Last week, our daughter designed and built a roller coaster from materials at home. Watching the girl press against her 3rd grade deadline surfaced messy memories of late night college studios.

  • Ten!

    Two kids and a remodel,
    Still together,
    A big anniversary.
    (Another quiet day)

    I worked at the office.
    Rushed to the community center.
    The girl checked out a theater class.
    (The boy quickly lost interest)

    Crossed the street,
    Passed through a skate park,
    The four of us ran around.
    (Inside the bowl)

    At the playground,
    He swung slowly,
    She crossed the monkey bars.
    (I did a couple pull-ups)

    Heading home,
    Watched teens at the skate park.
    Backflips on scooters!
    (Dangerous)

    She cooked a late dinner.
    Penne and sauce,
    Sardines, cucumbers, onions, and artichoke hearts.
    (I stole most of a celebratory soda)

    The kids pressured mom,
    “Make a cake!”
    Too late.
    (9:00)

    They ran off,
    I cleared the table,
    Celebrated again.
    (We split a surreptitious popsicle)

    We outlasted:
    The reception venue (Firefly now Nacho Daddy)
    The wedding venue (Bonnie Springs, demolished)
    The rehearsal dinner venue (HK Star and its many replacements)

    Nothing is guaranteed,
    I’m grateful things have worked out.
    On to the next decade.
    (Hoping for more quiet days)

  • He sculpted a blue playdough figure (with a tail) called the “Girl Stratosphere Tower” (the Statue of Liberty).

    He told momma,
    I found it on the “process shelf“.

    What’s the “process shelf”?

    He pointed at the bathroom countertop.

    Let’s start the process at 8:30.
    It’s 10 o’clock! How come we haven’t started the process yet?
    OK, time to wash up and brush your teeth!

    Now that they’re older,
    Going to bed isn’t a battle.
    But it’s still a process.

    If we let them.
    They’d drag it out
    Process,
    All night long,

    ䷓䷴

    witness

    after
    gloaming

    before
    somnolence

    ablutions

  • They delayed tidying the living room by jumping on the bed and cheerleading their father folding fresh laundry.

    Claire!
    Claire!

    Who’s Claire?
    Oh wait!
    She’s your imaginary friend, right?

    No! She’s our imaginary little sister!

    …

    Charles!
    Charles!

    Who’s Charles?

    He’s our imaginary baby brother!

    Really?
    When did he join the family?
    Last week?

    No! He’s been with us for a year!

    .
    .
    .

    An hour later, I asked my wife if she had met Claire and Charles.

    What are you talking about?!

    ䷺䷓

    apostolic sea
    auspicious foam
    ambitious dissolve

  • Angry aardvarks advertantly abducted an airship at Akita Airport absurdly assuming acerbic albatrosses abducted an adolescent aye aye.

    An outline handsketch of a hand shaping the ASL American manual letter “A”, in red ink on a yellow spiral bound steno notebook.
    A faded pink pillow with a giant tear down the center and exposed stuffing.

    Many years ago, a BoardGameGeek user in Australia asked me to receive several shipments before his arrival in Vegas to attend a friend’s steampunk themed wedding.

    When he came to pick up the games, his wife gave me this pink handmade pillow with chibi Star Wars characters for my newborn daughter.

    Last year, I joined Post.news. The open and accepting crowd inspired me to start drawing again after years of fearful, constipated dormancy.

    I started a series of hand sketches forming the ASL manual alphabet.
    After a few letters I started adding alliterative sentences.
    A month into this exercise, I was forced back into the office.

    Reinserting a commute into my routine was so disruptive that I dropped the project before completing it.

    ~

    A couple weeks ago I also joined Substack Notes. One of the first folks I met was Charlene Storey, who started a weekly ritual to share pictures of “everyday magic”.

    Given my interest in the mundane objects that surround us (I earned my 2003 NaNoWriMo by writing about the stuff in my tiny garage apartment), it’s a perfect way to jump into the new stream.

    ~

    I should finish the alphabet series, but I also like this new weekly thing and I don’t want to wait half a year before archiving these memories.

    So for the next 26 weeks, I’ll be doing a series of unplanned diptychs. Let’s see how it goes.

  • She calmly called out names as he squealed and jumped whenever he caught a pair.

    Cat!
    Moon!
    Gingerbread Man!

    He’ll play Spot It!
    But only as a team with his sister.

    So I flounder, one man chasing four sharp eyes.

    When she was small, I’d slow down,
    Looking for two pairs while she only needed one.
    Even then, those were easy wins.

    Now, I can’t keep up.
    They double me up.

    ~

    I didn’t have preconceptions about parenting.
    Except boardgaming.
    Start ’em young and they’ll love it.

    Nope.
    They enjoy the occasional play, but that’s it.
    Two bookshelves of games hibernate in the garage.

    Maybe as teenagers?
    One can hope!
    But it’s not for me to determine.

  • He jumps on his chair, raises his arms, looks down at us, and hollers “I am taller than all of you!”

    Staying at the in-laws,
    Digging into the closet,
    She finds momma’s old shoes.

    Shiny taupe flats with half inch heels,
    Clomp, clomp, clomp!
    Marching on the tile.

    Her feet are still small,
    But the ankles fill the throats;
    Last year’s gap is gone.

    ䷑䷝

    cross great water
    before three days
    after three days
    twin flames

  • A wonderful failure, Architecture 101, 2001

    I dropped this studio on the last day in class.

    I would have failed anyways.

    I spent my undergrad focused on the arts, not theory, much less jumping into the insanity of A Thousand Plateaus, by Deleuze and Guttari.

    The studio was about the nomad. I picked the Truck Stop as my program and the site was the 16th Street Train Station, at the time completely abandoned.

    Unlike the aborigines’ in Bruce Chatwin’s Song Lines, I stayed completely lost the entire semester.

    I made a video of rubber ducks.
    I visited a port terminal at the Port of Oakland (before 9/11 you could just drive up and ask for a tour).
    I spelunked that Train Station multiple times.
    I drove inland to check out real truck stops.
    I mashed ramen onto a wood board (that didn’t go well).

    One night, my buddy threw a pack of cigarettes on a desk and we spent hours hashing out a grand scheme that looked promising.

    The next morning I reviewed it with my professor. She agreed it was a good start.

    I pulled out my drop papers. She happily signed it to avoid failing me.

    That was my last day of class at UC Berkeley.

    section drawing of a train station with trucks in it, pencil on trace paper

    The main takeaway from the studio was to trust myself.

    Raveevarn Choksombatchai was a brilliant professor who would ask pointed questions every time I met her. As a young designer, I earnestly took in every critique.

    Her pedagogical approach was to be the devil’s advocate. She stress tested my convictions. That would be a fun studio nowadays, but I wasn’t ready.

    Her challenges convinced me to reassess everything every time. Starting over twice a week is a great way to get nowhere.

    I’ve since realized that the grand concept is only the seed of a project. Part of the designer’s job is to say “fuck it, good enough, move on”.

    There are plenty of problems at that next scale. Architecture is more than a conceptual art; it’s also a craft. Design challenges will confront you at every level along the way.

    Don’t let (yourself or someone else) stop you at gestalt.

    plan drawing of a train station with trucks in it, pencil on trace paper

    I’ve gone in quite a different direction from those high concept Berkeley days. Indeed, I don’t design. In the past five years, I’ve done four sketches, my last one locating one door in a short corridor.

    But the lesson of this failed studio still lingers.

    Not a painful barb, but a gentle reminder to trust myself.

    My ideas aren’t perfect, but I know they’re good enough for taking that next step — cause analysis paralysis is so much worse.

    I don’t think you can ask for a more impactful lesson coming out of college.

    elevation drawing mixed with a pencil trace of interior photographs pencil on bond printout

  • As this household transitions to English around the dinner table, each high stakes polysyllabic word is enunciated with detail.

    你再下来就没有snacks!
    (Come down (from the table) again, then no snacks!)

    Poo-poo!
    (he just came back from trying to poop, unsuccessfully)

    真的? 这次没有大便也没有snacks!
    (Really? If you don’t poo this time, then no snacks!)

    Oh! 我说了 acc-i-dent-a-ly.
    (    Oh! I said it accidentally.)