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4 Things a Hurricane Teaches You About Good Design
When the power goes out, a home's design can be as important as packaged food and a hand-crank radio. See how from a firsthand account
Houzz Contributor. I am an architect and writer living in New York City. I have Bachelor of Architecture and Master in Urban Planning degrees, and over ten years experience in architectural practice, split between Chicago and NYC. Currently I'm focused on writing and online pursuits. My daily blog can be found at http://archidose.blogspot.com
Houzz Contributor. I am an architect and writer living in New York City.... More »
As I type this, Hurricane Sandy is making its way toward the coast of New Jersey, more than 100 miles south of New York City, where I live with my wife and daughter. We are in a two-unit, brick apartment building in northwest Queens, tucked between neighboring homes of similar size and construction. Since only two of the four sides of the house (three of five if we count the roof) are exposed to the elements, this situation makes us feel safe and secure.
Our (false?) sense of security is tempered by an experience in 2011 when we spent a week dog and house sitting in a single-family house just north of the city, a week that happened to coincide with Hurricane Irene. The house, designed by a well-known architect, was exposed to the elements on all sides and bombarded by wind, rain and even tree limbs. It survived pretty much unscathed, but the power went out in the middle of the night, at the height of the storm, and didn't come back on until five days later, at the end of our duties.
So the four of us (my wife, daughter and I, and our friend's dog) spent five days without power in a house that was designed so well that the experience was actually a pleasant one (minus, of course, the headache of emptying and cleaning the fridge), aided by some beautiful weather after the storm. This ideabook goes into our experience, but it primarily discusses the lessons I learned in those five days. One can prepare for the worst when a hurricane approaches (Sandy has made us do that), but when the power goes out, a house's design is just as important as provisions. The photos that illustrate this ideabook were shot just before and after Irene, showing views from the house and its aftermath in the area; the few of the house are minor details, to protect the privacy of the owners.
Related: What to do After a Hurricane or Flood
Our (false?) sense of security is tempered by an experience in 2011 when we spent a week dog and house sitting in a single-family house just north of the city, a week that happened to coincide with Hurricane Irene. The house, designed by a well-known architect, was exposed to the elements on all sides and bombarded by wind, rain and even tree limbs. It survived pretty much unscathed, but the power went out in the middle of the night, at the height of the storm, and didn't come back on until five days later, at the end of our duties.
So the four of us (my wife, daughter and I, and our friend's dog) spent five days without power in a house that was designed so well that the experience was actually a pleasant one (minus, of course, the headache of emptying and cleaning the fridge), aided by some beautiful weather after the storm. This ideabook goes into our experience, but it primarily discusses the lessons I learned in those five days. One can prepare for the worst when a hurricane approaches (Sandy has made us do that), but when the power goes out, a house's design is just as important as provisions. The photos that illustrate this ideabook were shot just before and after Irene, showing views from the house and its aftermath in the area; the few of the house are minor details, to protect the privacy of the owners.
Related: What to do After a Hurricane or Flood
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| One of the most impressive aspects of the house was what it looked at. It's easy to see why a frame wasn't used at this corner window: the sky opened through the trees toward the east. Each day that we were in the house (two days before the hurricane, five days after), the sun rose in this spot over the trees. Around the rest of the house the trees were close, embracing us. What was disconcerting about this view is that normally the clouds would be moving away from the house (as in this photo, a couple days before the storm), but during Irene — given its counterclockwise rotation — the weather moved toward us. Therefore we could see not only the clouds coming our way but also the lightning, one of the scariest aspects of the storm. |
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| Another reason the view in the previous photo is important for this story is because it was our view all throughout the night when Irene hit. The view through the corner window was from a family room adjacent to the formal living room; both shared an impressive stone hearth, so the owner recommended those rooms for safety over the bedrooms down the hall. Our experience in sleeping in the family room was a pull between two opposites: the strength and solidity of the stone and the openness and impending view through the glass. Without curtains on the windows, our view of the storm, and the lighting up of the room through the lightning, was a constant. Water splashed upon the glass like waves on the sea, and the roof creaked above us, but we were safe throughout the night, even if our minds had a hard time believing that was the case. |
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| I took very few photos during the storm, partly because it hit strongest during the night, but mainly because I was in no mood to take any. New York City may have laughed off what happened with Irene, but in our location it was a scary affair. These photos show the relative amounts of rain being shed from the roof: the photo on the left was taken at about 2:30 p.m., before Irene hit; the photo on the left was taken at about 8 a.m. the day after. During the storm the rain was at a 45-degree angle, due to the wind blowing from right to left. Note the leaves in the foreground on the left edge of the morning-after photo. Those belong to a large tree limb that fell on the roof. Thankfully, the felled limb did not puncture the roof, because that would have meant that some of the rain would have worked its way indoors. |
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| A day and a half after Irene hit, the weather turned for the better. This is the sunrise that woke us as we slept in the family room. After a day of more rain, the second day after the storm was the start of our appreciation of the house, articulated here as four lessons. 1. Design with the sun. The orientation of the house, and its corresponding design through materials, was evident. The stone and glass dichotomy of the family room actually extends to the whole house: Stone anchors the house on the west, and glass opens it up on the east. This welcomes the sun in the morning, though much of it is light filtered through the numerous trees; this was especially important when we were there, as it was August and we didn't want too much sun entering the house. We returned to the house in December, when the trees were bare, and the sun had the effect of warming the house beautifully, particularly by heating up the concrete floor and allowing its warmth to dissipate when the sun disappeared. (We learned this the hard way, as the power went out once again, but only for a day.) |
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| 2. Design with the wind. Even though the leaves filtered the August sunlight when we were there, the 80-degree weather necessitated some cooling. With the power out, this meant natural cooling — breezes. Here the house excelled. The glass walls facing east all opened up, with glass doors on the outside and matching screen doors on the inside. With doors open on the east and windows open on the west, breezes made their way easily through the house. The humidity was not as high as before the storm, but nevertheless the cooling effects were noticeable and considerable. This photo shows one reason that the power was out for us and many people in the area. The wind knocked down lots of trees, many of them landing on power lines. |
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3. Design with the land. One of the trees on the east side outside the house was a victim of the storm, visible here. (For a sense of scale, note the dog walking around the bottom of the tree.) The house is on the right, atop the slope and beyond the photo's frame. This meant the tree fell away from the house, just one way in which the architecture of the house works with the landscape.
As mentioned, the house is open on part of the east side to welcome sunlight, but on the north side, trees help block cool breezes. On the west side the stone walls are partially bermed against the earth to aid in heating and cooling, and an opening in the trees on the south side brings sunlight to the indoor-outdoor dining room.
As mentioned, the house is open on part of the east side to welcome sunlight, but on the north side, trees help block cool breezes. On the west side the stone walls are partially bermed against the earth to aid in heating and cooling, and an opening in the trees on the south side brings sunlight to the indoor-outdoor dining room.
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| 4. Live with the sun, wind and land. But design is only half the story; the rest is actually living with the house. My appreciation of the architect's design came about because we embraced the sun when it shone (in the extreme, waking at sunrise and going to bed just after sunset; at other times simply sitting by the window to read), controlled the breezes through opening and closing windows and doors, and got out of the house to enjoy the spaces around the house when we could. These lessons are hardly comprehensive and are not meant as guidelines for designing a passive house, for example. They simply serve to illustrate some of what living in a well-designed house after a major storm taught me — or retaught me, to be more accurate. Ultimately it's helpful to see a house as having a reciprocal relationship with us: We impact a house when living in it, and in turn it impacts us. Therefore it's important to consider a house's design apart from the infrastructure and gizmos that it supports, not as a doomsday scenario but as a call for better responses to natural conditions. One way to gauge a house's success is to ask, "Would your house be comfortable without power for five days?" I know this Frank Lloyd Wright house was. More: 11 Ways to Hurricane Proof Your House |
Ideabook updated on Nov. 19, 2012.
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inkwitch - There's no privilege in my position, but I think certain cost of living increases (rent) are offset by reductions in other areas (no car=no gas, insurance, etc). I grew up near Chicago and went to school in Kansas, so I've dealt with my fair share of tornadoes. At least hurricanes have some warning; sudden tornadoes are much scarier in my mind.
Lucianna - Agreed.
Where I live in Southern Colorado we live to face views but really we should be building to take advantage of the solar gain, against the wind and of course to not disrupt the land to much
We have some hectic electrical storms with a lot of hail but not many hurricanes Cape Town struggle with those as it is on a peninsula. Johannesburg is at an altitude of six thousand feet and generally we have mild weather with freezing winter nights Most folks build for sunny weather and turn the house to face North but the nights are still very cold and insulation is not usually a building prerequisite here but things ARE changing and folks are a lot more contious of "going Green" and saving precious resources... thank you for your article always interesting to hear anothers viewpoint.. So glad you survived Sandy and have come out much wiser.. nature can be awesome and cruel all at the same time....Regards.. Shirley from sunny South Africa
I like his work, not all in entirety. He built strong and sound and provided a complete package. Many contemporary architects and designers don't have it. Frank Lloyd Wright not only designed he knew how to build. The best training for any architect is how to use the material they are prescribing. Many don't and that is why work is shoddy.
My father is an architect, though he limitedly practices now, he too emphasized the need to build things. I learned to build and draw prior to learning to design. Today, I am not only a good designer but also I too make products that last. Perhaps I also learned about the Bauhaus movement where they emphasized forms follows function. This is a very needed philosophy in design, something we have lost by building Mac Mansions, Twenty bedroom highrise apartments, etc.
-Kurt Preissler
owner, RollingPlanter.com
http://www.rollingplanter.com
Most of the damage with Sandy has been due to the storm surges along the Atlantic Coast (Jersey Shore, Long Island, Lower Manhattan)—flooded and damaged buildings, flooded tunnels (no subways for a few days, at least), and power outages. Of course the wind uprooted trees, downed power lines (one right across the street from us), and even twisted a construction crane (that still dangles above the street, I think), but those impacts are small relative to what's happened at the shores.
"Experiencing" Sandy in Queens was much different than Irene upstate, and I put experiencing in quotes because we shut our curtains and blinds for protection, meaning our view of the storm was through the TV. And the coverage was non-stop and full of drama. Nevertheless it was impossible to resist. We also didn't lose power, and I know it would be a much different few days if we did.
Thanks for all your comments and well wishes.
You took us through the rooms. Feeling the heat of the sun any the oil of the shade of the trees reminding us of placement. We are all so buy with looks. But do we actually stand there and feel? How many chairs and sofas have you sat in lately that were actually comfortable?
The Most impressive to me, well, besides the Masters and Bachelors, was the fact that you live in an apartment smushed in between others in Queens. I wonder which part of NW but you don't have to say. I have a Love Hate relationship with Queens as it is my hometown. It shaped me and made me who I am. It is the melting pot of the world and my Grandparents moved there from NYC to Corona. Anyway, it's tough there, I give you credit. You are a Real HardCore HandsOn Smart NoNonsense Architect !!
You asked how our homes might fare without power. I live in the country in the forest and lose power many times each winter. I am always grateful that I have a real wood-burning fireplace and a propane fueled cooktop. At least I can stay warm and can do stovetop cooking. We are on a well though, so that means no water when the electric pump stops. I always keep several gallons of emergency water stocked as well as candles & flashlights.
I have personally experienced the 1989 earthquake in SFO a week before my son was born and a fast moving wildfire on my ranch near Chico, CA in 2008 that nearly burned my barn and house and destroyed over 50 surrounding homes in our rural rolling hill neighborhood. I had 1 hour warning and in 2 hours the fire roared through our community. Both events were terrifying. Sometimes the best design and disaster response is rendered vulnerable & powerless by Mother Nature.
Here's a public domain photo of Lavalette, NJ yesterday (U.S. Air Force photo by Master Sgt. Mark C. Olsen/Released).
Looks like the ocean and beach covered the entire area.
Another problem that Sandy has brought to light is that of overhead power lines. I have been screaming about their danger and ugliness for 20 years. Apparently Manhattan gets it and has buried theirs, but at least some of the burrows still have them overhead. I am not sure if the cause of the fire has been conclusively decided yet, but speculation at this moment for the massive fire ravaging 80-100, or more houses in the area, was from a downed power line. I know that homeowners individually do not usually have a lot of say in whether lines are buried or not, and there are costs involved. But, the costs of not, seem staggeringly high to me. I recently witnessed an oversize truck driving through a neighborhood and struck a power line. It snapped the line, which flung back and struck the car in front of me, electrocuting the driver and immobilizing the vehicle. In the end, the driver was hospitalized and ok, but hundreds of residents were without power for days. Seems like an issue that needs to be discussed more, particularly from architects to homeowners who generally seem unaware of the problem.
Storms like Sandy are so fickle. We are about 400 yds away from the ocean. Except for a ton of leaves, a downed limb and dirty windows we were safe and sound. Immediately down the street the waves washed up and over the road bringing someone's dock and a boat. The house there is a mess and may not be salvageable; a sad situation because it can never be rebuilt. Yet here were are in a location that has so many antique homes which have weathered storms for a couple of hundred years. Nature, so beautiful, powerful and sometimes pretty scary.
Ty for your insight.
We must give the Lord God His due! or we're in big trouble. You and your family were blessed, good sir. A mighty limb could have broken off and, on a fluke, sailed through that beautiful glass.
Thanks for this opportunity to praise His name. Each time you're tempted to say what a
great job the stump-grinder did or your dentist, etc, voice a thanks to the
Grand Architect...one more way to hurricane-proof your house.
Kinda scary, isn't it...to think our security depends on Him. Well, which is better: Him or luck (which is nothing more than a big sky-hook)
Happy Halloween to all
Having said all the above, let me add you make some very good points...why I so enjoy the site.
JB
So thankful that you and your family are safe.
John your advice is sound and valuable. Thanks for this post.
Myself I live in a snow belt region located in Canada and I think the worse experience to date was coping with an Ice Storm in the middle of Winter when massive clean-up took a number of weeks for things to return to normal. In our case we were fortunate that our roof held out and we only lived in darkness and without heat for about a week. (Lesson learned, as we since have purchased a back-up gasoline generator in event Mother Nature ever throws a similar curve at us. ) Though it occurred fourteen years ago; the surrounding landscape still shows signs of it with felled and damaged trees in the forest areas. We are also in an earthquake zone and have a history of tremors plus we have also had the rare Tornado, but we do have strict building codes for structures which on the whole have proven to be beneficial for our climate and location.
Excellent idea book John!