The Houses That Built Me

We shape our buildings, and afterwards, our buildings shape us. 

- Winston Churchill

It’s called the American Dream, because you’d have to be asleep to believe it. 

- George Carlin

You can get a sense of people almost instantly as you walk into their home. Some have a cozy bright feeling. Others are dark and broody, and others are old and quirky. Then there are those that are bright but cold. Others are dark but warm. 

Some have soft couches, others have hard decorative ones. Some have scuffed up floors and dog hair, others are pristine and intimidating. Some are centered around a tv. Others around the kitchen. Others, the hearth and bookshelves.

Some have hidden rooms. Some are open layouts. 

All have stories and memories hanging on the walls. They are little museums of someone’s life. 

 I’ve spent a majority of the past 8 years house-sitting so the concept of space has always been a theme for my art and musings. It’s no secret that our environment shapes us, but it’s easy to forget. Especially because we become blind to so much of our everyday surroundings.

It’s truly fascinating how differently I live at each house. It’s equally interesting what habits stay the same or change. What’s consistent, what’s different. Each home formed me in some way. I have such vivid memories associated with each space. Good and bad but all full of growth. I saw so many different neighborhoods of Seattle and was able to explore new places to play and eat. I had a life there all my own. Me and my animal friends.

We build our homes, but our homes build us too. 

That’s why current housing trends and city planning trouble me so much. Smaller and smaller spaces with fewer amenities tend to be the norm in most cities. And even those are quickly becoming unaffordable to anyone making less than $100,000 a year. 

I suppose I always took home ownership for granted. I never thought it would be easy, I just figured it would be possible. My parents were immigrants with the typical immigrant story. They had nothing but were able to work blue collar jobs long and smart enough to save up for a house. They worked so hard. I don’t discount that. But our house back then was $140,000. Its current market rate is nearly $700,000. It would have been even more if we hadn’t sold off some of the property to developers a decade ago. 

And wages, even for college grads, really haven’t risen that much. 

But gas and groceries sure have.

My childhood home, my parent’s house, the place where I still have a bedroom available whenever I need it, is glorious. It’s one of the most peaceful places on Earth to me. It allowed a safe place for our weary and broken family to heal. I love it. But I always thought I’d spread my wings and be able to create a space of my own one day. I used to think I’d have to work really hard, but it would be possible to own my own house. 

It doesn’t always feel attainable these days. Not even to rent, not at current prices. 

It seems there are those who have forgotten how much of a human right and necessity good housing is. Not just housing, but good housing.  Something with life and rhythm. Something with dignity.

In their article linked below, Jacoba Urist of the Atlantic, claims, “Beyond the economic impact of smaller spaces, our homes also serve an important role in communicating our values and goals, or what scientists call “identity claims.” We tend to feel happier and healthier when we can bring others to our space to telegraph who we are and what’s important to us.”

Urist continues with, “I’ve studied children in crowded apartments and low-income housing a lot, and they can end up becoming withdrawn, and have trouble studying and concentrating. In these situations, modern amenities—such as floor to ceiling windows, extra storage and a communal roof deck— won’t compensate for a fundamental lack of privacy in a child’s home every day.”

Forget children and humans, rats, rabbits, and dogs will not develop proper cognitive abilities if kept in small enclosed spaces without engagement and freedom to move about in a stimulating environment.  

Humans are the first animal we domesticated. Agriculture and a surplus of food allowed us to set up small civilizations, switching from our largely nomadic and hunter gatherer way of life. We were born to wander. Settlement has been but a blink in the cosmic calendar for humans. We used to be constantly on the move. And there used to be a lot fewer people too. 

But even when cities started springing up - after we sorted out the plumbing and some of the disease aspects of living in close proximity to each other and animals - the cities were some what art in their own right. They had a flow and rhythm that melded with nature and allowed easy walkable access to everything we needed. Including ample leisure time in the town piazzas and common areas. I’m thinking Italy and much of Europe. I could walk Rome in a day. I’d be tired but I’ve done it. Granted I was 21 at the time and much more vigorous. I’m sure my 30 year old haggard body could still make the journey. 

And as I walk, even with the modern changes, the city still feels so accessible and walkable. And everyone is walking. Showing off their clothes and meeting up for gelato or wine. There’s community everywhere. And it’s a much slower pace of life. 

And the apartments are so open and flowy. Even the basic ones are decorative and regal. 

They don’t feel cheap or cramped. 

Even the more expensive apartments I’ve toured in Seattle don’t feel like that. 

And things really aren’t built to last in this country. Our bridges are falling down while Rome’s still last. Businesses that cut corners, landlords that don’t maintain their responsibilities. It’s all so common. 

And so enraging. 

I just wish we could see what the world would be like if we were all given the right and opportunity to maintain a healthy life. Healthy enough to achieve our potential. All of us. Can you imagine what it would be like if we took care of each other?

Not even the fancy stuff, just the basics, but made them art? 

It would be something else, my friend. 

https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2013/12/the-health-risks-of-small-apartments/282150/

“This house is a hotel, I won’t stay long.” - The Wind & The Wave