FLW is my favorite architect, ever since I first saw Fallingwater as a kid. Back in 2016, I was in the market and found an incredible albeit somewhat run down h

FLW is my favorite architect, ever since I first saw Fallingwater as a kid. Back in 2016, I was in the market and found an incredible albeit somewhat run down home built by one of his understudies. The sellers had it built in 1970, and it hit a lot of familiar notes: long, rectangular, vaguely Japanese aesthetic nestled into a niche in a ravine that overlooked 6 acres of fairly unspoiled nature, angled just right to let light scoop down to all three levels, which of course were 100% glass on two sides and a good portion of the other two. It also leaked like a sieve, drafts coming in around all the panes, the ceiling, and had moisture everywhere. It didn’t have AC, and the owners admitted they couldn’t afford to go on heating the place despite it breaking their heart to leave it. At the end of the day, it would have prohibitively expensive to fix up, try to combat the heating and cooling issue, and I feared would require so many changes to the aesthetic of the house that it just wouldn’t be the same. On top of that, it had an almost non-existent kitchen (I read somewhere that is common in Wright design philosophy, which his student clearly took to heart with this house), and bathrooms awkwardly built into the central support columns that felt more like dungeon pits my partner and I would guarantee slipping and falling in… but I digress. Anyways, I think about that house a bunch. So many incredible, charming homes that are becoming impractical, if they weren’t right off the drawing board but where past energy costs were low enough they could make the dream work. The house I ended up buying is from 1951 with much more traditional construction, but we’ve still been putting an assload of money (for us, at least) into making it more sustainable and comfortable… but it still just isn’t there yet. Yet I am loathe to just start knocking stuff down.