Paul R. Williams, Paley Residence, 1936

Several years ago I was at a photo shoot at a large estate in Santa Barbara. When I asked to use the restroom, I was directed to a tiny bathroom in the garage, the staff bathroom. Of course, I was shocked, dismayed, and indignant. Then I realized that this was probably karmic and I should be glad I wasn’t told to go down the hill to the gas station.

The thing that really bothered me, though, was how expensive this multi-million dollar house was (in the upper-teens) yet it looked exactly like a Macaroni Grill. It was designed in a Tuscan style with not an item out of place. Everything was brand spanking new. Each brick and stone was perfectly clean fresh from a box. There were no books, family portraits, or odd nick-knacks.

If you’ve ever watched Beautiful Homes on HGTV you know what I am describing. Each luxurious “beautiful home” is more overdone than the next. Yes, a closet probably cost more than my house, but all that marble, gilding, and brocade wallpaper. Why? I understand that most people don’t want to live in Philip Johnson’s Glass House, or deal with a waterfall in the house at Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater. But does anyone require a bedroom that looks like it belongs to a Disney Princess, or a kitchen that was designed to fit in at Versailles?

I look at Paul R. Williams’ houses and know this is the right way to do it. They’re beautiful, tasteful, elegant, and functional. They’re never overwrought or heavy handed. Williams took classical and simple forms and created warm spaces. If I were going to spend 18 million dollars on a house I’d buy the original family estate in Virginia, Castle Hill. Or, I’d buy a Paul Williams house, not a Macaroni Grill or Olive Garden disguised as a house.

For more: Williams/ grand-daughter, Karen Hudson monograph, Paul R. Williams, Classic Hollywood Style (source of many of these images). 

Paul R. Williams, Paley Residence, 1936

Paul R. Williams, Blackburn Residence, 1927

Paul R. Williams, Degnan Residence, 1927

Paul R. Williams, Historic Suite, Beverly Hills Hotel, 1949

Paul R. Williams, Historic Suite, Beverly Hills Hotel, 1949

Paul R. Williams, Landis Residence, 1955

Paul R. Williams, Paley Residence, 1936

Paul R. Williams: Classic Hollywood Style By Karen E. Hudson

Paul R. Williams

Not Paul R. Williams

Not Paul R. Williams

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Individual frames now square

How many times have you come home after a long day to find all of your wall hangings crooked? I don’t know if tiny earthquakes cause this, or someone is purposely making them crooked to prove they’ve been cleaned. If I had one massive painting on each wall, then it wouldn’t be a problem. But I have photos and paintings specifically arranged. I plan the groupings out on the computer, measure with my Schaedler ruler (if you don’t own one, stop right now and buy one) and make sure everything is square with a level. This is not OCD.

Last weekend I was determined to solve the problem. Some people lie in bed awake at 3am wondering about a serious issue. I lie there trying to decide what adhesive will work best to fix the pictures in place. After much trial and error, Quake Hold Museum Putty works best. This is how to achieve perfectly square images that will always stay in place.

1. Roll out a piece of the Quake Hold like a roll of dough
2. Cut pieces off, about 1/8” each
3. Roll these into little balls
4. Affix the little Quake Hold balls to the bottom corners of the frame
5. Use a small level to make sure the frame is correct, and push the bottom into the wall

Voila, you pictures will remain in place even when small children attempt to dislodge them. And when you want to remove them, give them a little pull, and they lift right off, no damage to the wall or frame. Then you will no longer be ashamed when you find a guest glancing at your wall.

Good for symmetrical groupings of photos

Different frame types and objects stay put

Another perfectly square arrangement

Large groups of family photos in my office stay square

Light troublesome frames now don't budge

Even round objects can be affixed

Quake Hold Museum Putty

Not a joint, a roll of Quake Hold

Trim off little pieces

Roll into balls and affix to the frames

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kitchen after

Many of you have sent me notes asking about details on some of my house projects. “Sean,” they typically begin, “I’ve been looking for a sink that I can use to wash my dog. What would you recommend?” So, I’ve decided to devote a few posts to helpful renovation tips. I’ll start with the kitchen. I loved the original kitchen. It looked great as a Pleasantville kitchen, but the drawers didn’t open, cabinets were too small, the appliances had past their prime, and the space was crowded. I wanted a kitchen where everyone could gather and not say, “Get the hell out of my way.”

I entertained the idea of designing the kitchen myself, but I know that hiring a professional is always best (note to those who think they can design their own logo). I hired my friend, Sidney Cooper, who is a genius. I told Sidney we needed a functional kitchen, but wanted to nod to the house’s history. Being obsessive, I took Sidney’s plans and redrew them to make sure I had space for all of the kitchen’s contents, and to test colors.

Kitchen renovations are expensive when you change the footprint, so we tried to match the layout to existing gas and water lines. Sidney replaced the peninsula that bisected the room with an island. We avoided upper cabinets to keep the room open. All of the lower cabinets have drawers for pots and pans, plates, and Tupperware. I bought stainless steel shelves from Big Tray for plastic cups. The countertops are Caesarstone, which is almost impossible to ruin. If I stain it, I can use Bar Keepers Friend to make it look new. We used standard vinyl composition tile for the floors. These are cheap, can take a beating, and are simply waxed and buffed every 6 months.

There are a couple of decisions I’m not sure about. I like my range, but I never use the griddle. I don’t know what to make or how to clean it. I love the amount of room my refrigerator has, but it’s kind of a giant machine in the middle of the room. I love my pre-rinse faucet. It’s not fancy; it’s an off-the-shelf commercial unit. This helps to wash animals in the sink if you need it. Or, as my friend Jill said, “It looks like something used for enemas.” But I still love it.

original kitchen

original kitchen

original kitchen

original kitchen

My OCD drawings

My OCD plan

plan detail to verify content space

color study

construction

kitchen after, groovy pre-rinse unit

kitchen after, the odd griddle

kitchen after, plastic cup shelves

the giant refrigerator in the room

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Pauite baskets

Recently, it was suggested to me that I was too minimalist. I’d like to be minimalist. I’d like to be the type of person who has all white walls with Shaker furniture, and one tiny painting of the New England coast. But, I have too much stuff. I can keep some of the rooms at home simple and clean until I begin adding things like Danish pottery and Mexican figurines to to the fireplace mantle.

The den has become a real problem. Most of the stuff came from the Ranch or my grandparents’ house. Western was the theme at the Ranch, while Victorian parlor was the theme at their  house. Consequently, the den is a hodgepodge of western paintings, Edward Curtis photographs, and Paiute baskets. And I found a great case to hold all of my tiny nick-nackery. It holds my birds nests, rock collection, Mexican tiles, and any other little object I can cram in there. So, as you see, I may preach minimalism, but like Mies Van der Rohe, I can’t live in it, too much stuff.

the Den

lots o' paintings

Den

more pictures

the bar and phone I use to call Aunt Bee

the case of tiny things

detail

a horseshoe, rock collection, and car stickers

a kino number and silver dollar

cards for the stereoscope viewer, better than TV

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the garden room, Better Homes and Gardens Decorating 1968

There is a sofa at my grandparents’ house that we all call “the Nancy Reagan” sofa. I like it, nobody else does. I’d put it in my house, but it weighs a ton because it’s a sleeper sofa, and impossible to move. And I have no idea where to put it. My other grandmother had a cousin who was a bastion of good taste, Nancy Lancaster. Lancaster is credited with creating “the English-country” style. My mother and aunts follow this style. So that side of the family would not approve of the sunny and flowered Nancy Reagan sofa.

I found a book, though, that helps me understand how to change my décor to accommodate the Nancy Reagan sofa, The Better Homes and Gardens Decorating Book from 1968. It clearly demonstrates how to use purple and green as a color scheme, or golden harvest as a theme. I particularly like the burnt orange and brown Venetian inspired kitchen. The room for a college student is nifty, too. I can imagine a bong on the shelf and some Jefferson Airplane posters adding some individual personality. The purple and magenta room gives me a perfect way to use the Nancy Reagan sofa.

If I do this, I will be leaving behind ½ of my family. My mother’s side (the Nancy Lancaster side) will never accept this. I will be ostracized or pitied for my awful and tragic taste.

the purple room, Better Homes and Gardens Decorating 1968

the teenage dope room, Better Homes and Gardens Decorating 1968

detail from the teenage dope room

the snappy cabinet, Better Homes and Gardens Decorating 1968

the Venetian kitchen, Better Homes and Gardens Decorating 1968

the green room, Better Homes and Gardens Decorating 1968

the Nancy Reagan sofa

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