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FeedZen Mastered
A Modernist Kenwood home finds new life
By Alecia Stevens
Photo by John christenson
But one architectural style was missing from his portfolio. “Modern was the last frontier for me,” he says. “I was very interested in that, but I wanted to stay in Kenwood—not so easy to find.” Then his real estate agent called about a mid-century home on a Mount Curve lot, heaving with trees and hidden by an obtrusive pile of dirt covered in scraggly grass and brush. “‘You’ve got to see this,’ he told me. I set up the appointment, took a lap around the house, and said, ‘I have to have it.’” Newcomb made an offer immediately and it was accepted.
Built for a forward-thinking couple in 1965, the home was designed by architect Edward Baker, known as “the father of the skyway system,” who passed away recently. This house and the one next to it, also designed by Baker, sit on property that once belonged to the Minneapolis Park Board at the point where Mount Curve meets Kenwood Parkway. The house is sited on a very steep, wooded lot, almost hidden from the city, and has tree-house views from the rear deck.
With experience in his back pocket, Newcomb knew exactly where to begin. That meant doing almost nothing until he could “see into” the space. Thanks to a photo album from the previous owners, who had made their own minimal changes, Newcomb studied the images of the original, unaltered home to reconstruct what might have been the vision of the architect. He noticed the consistent use of materials such as teak and copper, which he would reintroduce as shelving and sheathing for the fireplace.
John Christenson
They decided to emphasize these characteristics of the home—qualities buried beneath the mores and styles of lives lived 40 years ago. Kitchens, circa 1965, were hidden from view and this home was no exception. But times and lifestyles have changed; the walls had to go.
First, they opened the kitchen to the dining area and the living room beyond. Removing a second wall released the atrium from the kitchen, which created a complete circuit around the literal and spiritual center of the home. “When the walls were removed, the atrium was set free,” Roman says. It also changed the circulation of the space. “Now, we feel like we are always connected, even when we are in different rooms.”
With the home’s arteries flowing freely, Newcomb and Roman could begin work on the heart of the home, the kitchen. They called Connie Gustafson, then with Sawhill and now principal of Connie & Company Creative Designs. Here, the needs of their three sons were considered. Cereal is tucked away in a drawer 5-year-old Diego can reach. Sebastian, 14, and Sergio, 8, often help with cooking, occasionally planning and shopping for the meals, so materials had to be easy to maintain. Gustafson also added a small beverage cooler and pantry outside of the “work triangle” so the boys can quickly access water, juice, and snacks.
John Christenson
The atrium and front landscaping are similarly deliberate. Together, they studied the elements of the traditional Zen garden and are working patiently on the atrium project. They mixed a variety of sizes and colors of stone, included sculpture and a meditation bench, and planted bamboo. “It is a glass room without a ceiling,” Newcomb says. “It is just beautiful in the winter when the snow arrives.”
The most recent project, the front landscaping designed by Newcomb and Roman, envelops the home in nature. The couple selected a greenish black stone called Aqua Grantique, which is native to Wisconsin, for a dramatic privacy wall that is cut and laid in long, horizontal slabs. Bluestone-stained concrete pavers define the driveway and walkway, while a crushed granite bed accents the front landscape—a larger-scale echo of the varying sizes and colors of stone used in the atrium. And what is a Zen garden without the element of water? A large reflecting pool sits between the owners’ bedroom and the privacy wall.
With other smaller projects nearing completion in the rest of the house, Newcomb, Roman, and sons can fully settle into their home, with only glass between them and the changing seasons—the iconic metaphor for the transience of life itself and the sanctuary they imagined this home would be.
Alecia Stevens is a Minneapolis interior designer and frequent contributor to Midwest Home.
For more information on resources featured in this story, please reference our Buyer's Guide
11 ISSUES (1 YEAR)
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Reader Comments:
This house was built by my grandparents. I kinda grew up in it. It was a great "grandma's" house, lots of places to hide, nice long stretches of hardwood to slide in your socks on. A lifetime of fond and happy memories are in those walls. I would love to see more pics. The changes to the house are amazing!
judi s.