In Great Falls, a minimalist architect has designed a 5,100 square-foot home, named Graticule, that serves as an “aperture” to the surrounding woodlands. In the architect’s words, the home has a “cadence” expressed through a rhythmic pattern of walls and windows, like a piano’s white keys contrasted against black.

by J. Michael Welton

10/27/10 12:00 AM

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Bare Essentials

Nic Lehoux

Exterior dusk view of the cantilevered living room from the ravine.

When David Jameson first met Stephanie and Terry Wikberg, about six years ago, Stephanie flipped open a hand-made book jam-packed with stories and photos torn from magazines like Architectural Digest, Washingtonian and Dwell. The topic of each article was Jameson’s work in residential design. “It was my first monograph,” the 42-year-old architect grins.

The Wikbergs had bought a six-acre property in Great Falls, and were wrestling with the question of what to do with it. The couple loved the lay of the land—it is rectangular in shape and slopes down 50 feet (over a length of 250 more) to lazy Nichols Run Creek, which in turn drifts and twists under a canopy of trees, then tumbles along thick undergrowth and empties eventually into the Potomac River. But the 1970s’ house on site was a different matter. “We tried to renovate it, but kept finding more and more things wrong with it,” says Stephanie Wikberg. “So we tore it down.”

But what, then, to put up? The couple wasn’t sure. Stephanie says she wanted “an architectural experience,” and to take advantage of the site. “I saw David in the magazines, and when we decided to build, we contacted him.”

That was just the beginning of their two-year excursion into the design world, one that would first scale the heights of early 21st century residential construction—and then quickly plumb its rocky depths. Once Fairfax County had granted their builder a permit to demolish the old residence and start construction on the new, he did exactly that—only to find county officials suddenly on site declaring the property a wetlands area. The Army Corps of Engineers wasn’t far behind. A sophisticated, expensive geological survey delayed the project for months.

Construction finally started in 2007, by which time Northern Virginia was experiencing a frantic housing surge. It was a time marked by loose money, frenzied building and huge homes that seemed to spring mushroom-like from nowhere. “On the [plus] side, there was the big appraisal that enabled us to afford to do it,” Stephanie says. “But when we started, we almost had to beg contractors to give us their phone numbers.”

Then came 2008, the fall of Lehman Brothers and the collapse of the financial sector. The building industry ground to a halt. Soon after, says Stephanie, “The contractors were all begging us to give them work.” As construction on the home drew to a close, their builder went under. The job was paralyzed until client and architect began bringing in finishers themselves. “It felt like the project would never end,” adds Jameson. “But Stephanie and I would meet out here once a week and make a list of what to do.”

In Great Falls, a minimalist architect has designed a 5,100 square-foot home, named Graticule, that serves as an “aperture” to the surrounding woodlands. In the architect’s words, the home has a “cadence” expressed through a rhythmic pattern of walls and windows, like a piano’s white keys contrasted against black.

by J. Michael Welton

10/27/10 12:00 AM

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