G.C. Mitch assures me that I should be in by December. (I’m equally sure I will be Obama’s vice presidential running mate this September). I only hope my house will be closed in time so that I can begin transporting family heirlooms and ancestral portraits. My most prized possession is a post-Russian Revolutionary portrait of the founder of our family dynasty, Harry Siskin, standing so democratically next to his first employee. The other image is of Harry’s furniture upholstery store, the Philadelphia Upholstering Company, curiously named considering it was located in Los Angeles.
pictures courtesy Sheldon Siskin and California Furniture: The Craft and the Artistry, by W. Robert Finegan
All though it might be a little premature to be thinking of house names, I do love the idea of naming one’s house. It’s so wonderfully old fashioned, such a handed-down from generation to generation kind of thing. Names given to houses should have personal relevance, i.e. Palacio Prozac or Maison Mortgage. The Styrofoam House just doesn’t have the same cachet as The Glass House; Falling Water won’t work, as there is no falling water. Casa Biggs is good, but at 12 years of age, it isn’t certain whether my trusted canine friend, Mrs. Biggs, will live there or be buried there move-in day.
I just received an email from architect Joan, saying that she visited the site this weekend. She expressed "some concern that there wasn’t enough steel in the structure." Not enough pigment in a paint color is acceptable, not enough steel isn’t. My engineering knowledge is limited to the few construction courses I’d taken at Parsons, but this doesn’t sound good. Wasn’t it just last week I was talking about ruins? If there are any engineers out there, could you please take a close look at the images below and let me know what you think? And when posting your comments, please include credentials.