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Geoff Warner invents his own brand of quirky, concise architecture
By Michelle Baltus
Photo by ERIC MOORE
Warner’s celebration of the recycled and mundane lends both originality and cutting-edge sensibility to his work. Everyday elements, such as steel, acrylic, and plywood, figure prominently into his residential building designs, which range from small-scale renovations to a new and highly inspired breed of prefabricated modular architecture, the weeHouse.
Warner realized early in his career that he wanted to learn first hand how things are built. A St. Anthony Park native and University of Minnesota graduate, Warner first worked at the Architectural Alliance in Minneapolis, where he came to appreciate project development from a “larger office standpoint,” he says. In the early 1990s, he freelanced as an architect and began making furniture to better understand construction concepts and materials.
During that time, Warner also renovated his own 1925 bungalow, designing a series of whimsical dormers to expand and enliven the home’s cramped second story. Surprising combinations of salvaged and stock building supplies redefined the Craftsman aesthetic and exhibited a creative process Warner calls “Frankensteining.”
“It’s taking something new and using it as a beautiful crutch for something old and worn,” Warner explains. He playfully piecemealed doors, knobs, and handle plates using exposed hardware, for example, and wrapped ceiling beams in various forms of steel. Not surprisingly, when House Beautiful profiled Warner’s eye-catching renovation, the article also highlighted his enthusiasm and “freewheeling imagination.”
“The great thing about building things yourself is that you’ve got complete control over the outcome,” Warner says. Doing his own carpentry also allowed him to forge collaborative relationships with other craftspeople. Those relationships, coupled with his construction smarts, proved essential to the 1992 launch of Alchemy. Early on, the Alchemy team built its own designs as a way to stay within budgets and make ends meet. That sweat equity not only saved money, but also affected how team members practiced their craft. Warner’s open-minded and solution-oriented approach still drives the firm today.
“I think the more information you have about the process, the more you can work within a tight budget or get the most out of a budget that is a little more generous. You just have a better appreciation for what kinds of things are going to work,” Warner says.
St. Paul resident Erika Herrmann discovered this skill when Warner artfully remade her bland, woefully renovated 1890s condominium. Herrmann hired Warner because she liked the work he had done for Anodyne, a Minneapolis coffee shop. “I found it really inventive,” she says. “I felt like we could go anywhere.”
Creatively speaking, that is. Herrmann had a small budget, so Warner used plywood details, composite counters, and sleek IKEA cabinetry to create a low-cost, high-style loft. A steel-clad fireplace anchors the living space, which became more open and bright after Warner modified the old ceiling. Any hesitation Herrmann felt about some of Warner’s more visionary decisions vanished once she saw the results, she says.
“I thought the ceiling was the one thing that was working in the space, but when Geoff exposed the beams and opened up the existing skylights, he created this amazing vaulted kitchen space,” she says. “I enjoy being in there now. Cooking has become a real joy.”
Photo by Geoffrey Warner
“Geoff is such a mad scientist, such a tinkerer,” Klocker says. “Working with him is like an endless brainstorm session. I would propose an idea or a general direction to go, and he would just elaborate on it and come back with something twice as good.”
According to furniture designer and fabricator Scott McGlasson, Warner peddles his good designs with an equally good nature. “He’s kind of a lovable nut,” says McGlasson, who hired Warner for a 1996 attic renovation. “You can’t help but like him right off the bat.” The feeling was mutual. McGlasson has since helped build several Alchemy projects. “It’s a blast working on his designs,” McGlasson says. “We’re always doing some really cool and innovative things.”
Like the weeHouse, for example. Named for its small size—the original one-room design measures just 336 square feet—the weeHouse has become a big deal, garnering national and international attention, and earning Alchemy a 2006 honor award from the Minnesota chapter of the American Institute of Architects (AIA).
The weeHouse was produced with minimal resources and impact on the immediate landscape. The client wanted an intimate cabin on remote land she owned near Lake Pepin, and she wanted to build it in a manner that would both preserve and reflect the poetic beauty of the area. Prefabrication was a way to save time, money, and materials, Warner says.
The process also helped shape the cabin’s smart, elegant design. Because Warner planned to build the entire weeHouse inside a warehouse and have it trucked to the site, the structure’s dimensions and weight were limited to what a semitrailer could haul. The result was a giant cubby with gleaming wood interiors, custom cabinets and shelves, built-in beds, and glass walls that visually link the occupants to the outdoors.
“We ended up with a really small, really nicely detailed space that sacrificed size for quality,” Warner says.
Alchemy also ended up in the prefab business. The firm now offers a line of modular building blocks that can stand alone or be combined to create larger weeHouses. Warner envisions a time when “mass customization” of such structures will make modern home design accessible and affordable for a wider audience.
Despite its prefab nature, the weeHouse allows for idiosyncratic artistic and philosophical expression. With a rooftop deck and red siding, for example, McGlasson’s own weeHouse north of Duluth resembles a tugboat sitting atop a hill. And while the weeHouse line commands much of Alchemy’s attention, the concepts generated by the program often benefit the firm’s custom architecture projects, and vice versa.
“I tend to be an inveterate dreamer,” Warner says. A fact that is worth its weight in gold.
Michelle Baltus is a St. Paul freelance writer and editor.
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