What better to write about than BIG, BEAUTIFUL HOUSES as I start my Challenge Detroit fellowship at Mosher Dolan, a boutique construction management firm that specializes in residential architecture. I am fascinated everyday by the intimate stories people weave into the souls of their homes like the Italian glass door knob that was brought over with grandma and the hand-carved fable in the woodwork that trims the ceiling. Homes are much more than buildings to people. Homes are a unique function that does more than shelter- we nest in them and they become ours, often recording the stories of multiple generations. Doorways mark the height of children, wooden hallways get worn by feet pacing over its surface, and the walls begin to collect the aroma of meals and people living within them.  We etch little personal details into homes that no one else may ever notice, but these marks represent the physical archive of lives, stories, and people that have dwelled in a space.

One of the reasons I studied architecture in college was because I like to tell stories and I like to make things, but when I began learning at the University of Detroit Mercy, I discovered I liked to find stories in the places I studied as well. As years passed my projects shifted from one part of Detroit to the next. Each time I would uncover something new about the place with which I was building. Even after studying architecture in Detroit for five years, I feel I have only touched a portion of the intimate history that hides in the buildings of this city.

I live in Brush Park. I moved there about one month ago, and I would like to share with you the story of the first day I moved in.

I knew a bit before I got there. I knew it was old, I knew it was hip, and I knew it was snuggled in between Eastern Market, Downtown, and Midtown. I could get where I wanted by bike and I was close to friends and the freeway. I happened upon the place I live now by chance; I met my current roommate at a community design conference. The first day I moved in I (meaning my brothers) carried furniture up three flights of stairs to the attic of a mansion built in 1902. The walls lean inward from the slope of the roof creating little nooks in which you can snuggle up, read a book or put a large collection of houseplants. The ceilings are tall and interrupted by skylights that flood natural light into our kitchen. A pretty awesome setup for a recent grad.

When my family left after they helped me move, I started to put away my things. It was quiet. After about two hours I hadn’t even put away my clothes when my new roommate asked me to go to a community art event. Obviously I chose that over laundry and we walked to a nearby play lot. There were open lots and a few vacant buildings, but amongst them there were mansions. BIG BEAUTIFUL HOUSES. The art show was a photographic display of the houses in my neighborhood printed on metal sheets and tied to the fences of the lot. My new neighbors were all there enjoying the free drinks and snacks. Three fridge doors held magnets which were mini versions of the art displayed- a parting gift to visitors. After much thought, I chose a magnet and we started walking home.

I noticed on the way that the home on my magnet was across the street from us. I mentioned it and my roommate said she had chosen a magnet of another view of the very same house. We walked up to get a better view and we noticed my neighbor was outside picking at the flowers. He introduced himself, we introduced ourselves, and soon after we were getting a tour of his own mansion. I apprehensively entered the foyer that was covered in intricate tile work thinking that this was exactly what my mother told me not to do. I was greeted by a BIG, BEAUTIFUL mastiff named Bear that was about the size of the animal he was named after- big houses, big dogs, makes sense.

I was then taken from room to room of one of the most beautiful houses I have ever seen by a man who came to Detroit on a business trip and decided to stay because he loved it so much. He and his significant-other purchased this home, which at the time had a huge gash in the roof. Revitalizing homes in disrepair is no small task. It requires a large pocket, expertise, and hours and hours of labor. This man did it alone- he put hours and hours of work into a craft, his home, that he was now proud to display as his portion of the story.

He lived in this home with about 8 other tenants. The walls were draped in original hand carved wood paneling that warmed the hallways and reached taller than my head towards lofty ceilings. I was inspired by the craftsmanship and the care put into this home, and the life this man shared with his other tenants who were having a little party in the kitchen as I listened to the man speak about how an indy film had just been shot in his living room while I pet Bear.

I left the house feeling like the little magnet I held meant a great deal more. There were dozens of other houses just like this surrounding my place that someone had nurtured into a new chapter of a story. Brush Park is one of the oldest neighborhoods in Detroit, technically the first suburb, filled with Victorian mansions that are now occupied when only 5 years earlier, when I started school, they had been vacant.

As I visit the houses of my friends who live in Detroit, I also notice little traces of stories, like intricate craftsman style metal work that is now unknowingly used to hold up towels. These little secrets make me smile, as I dry my hands on the towel and spend a little too much time admiring the work of a craftsman long gone. It makes me excited! To keep looking for stories and encourage others to find them as well in the history of Detroit.

And P.S. as I write this another story is being told… the new Batman vs. Superman movie is being filmed a block and a half away in a BIG, BEAUTIFUL HOUSE.