A small
practice, by
design.

We believe that a small practice is a moral position before it is a business one. We do not want to grow past the point where Theodore and I can read every set of construction documents that leaves the office. We do not want to take on work we will not personally be on site for. We have, over the last fifteen years, turned down a great deal of beautiful work for these reasons, and we do not regret a single decline.

Our work is principally residential, which is to say it is principally domestic — concerned with how a person carries their cup of coffee from the kitchen to the porch, with where they read in the late afternoon, with the angle at which morning light falls across the breakfast table in March. These are not minor concerns. A house gets these things right or it doesn't, and there is no third option.

We work slowly. We use materials that age. We draw by hand for the first six months of every project. We make a great many physical models. We visit our buildings, years after they are finished, and write down what the families who live in them have come to know about them that we did not.

What we are trying to make — what we will likely spend the rest of our working lives trying to make — is architecture that quietly outlasts us. Buildings that, fifty years from now, someone will walk through and not be able to say whether they were built last decade or last century, except that they will know, in the way one knows these things, that they were built with care.