WRITTEN BY DEAN STAHL PHOTOGRAPHED BY BENJAMIN BENSCHNEIDER

HANDS-ON EXPERIENCE

The art of simplicity is painstakingly practiced

ALISON, SONIA AND JAMES BREMS gather around their dining table in a section of the house that had originally been an open porch. Clear-fir trim, recycled-teak countertops, oak floors and fir cabinets are practical and cheering, yet honor the original builder.

SOME SKILLS JUST aren't taught in architecture school — the best way to hang a door, for instance, or how to nail down a straight row of shingles.

Architect Alison Walker Brems elected to learn the hands-on part of building in 1998, after she moved into the house her future husband, James Brems, used for a sculpture studio and bachelor's quarters.

The house had been cut into separate rentals, and stairways to the top floor and basement had been walled off.

"We poked a hole in what was the closet wall and had a ladder down to the basement for the cat," James recalls. "You could say the cat was the impetus for this."

"WE DESIGNED THE HOUSE before we knew we were going to have Sonia," architect Alison Walker Brems says. "Some things, such as the below-counter refrigerator, aren’t as practical for us now. This tells me that the way to see this house is as something that will always be in evolution."

"As a friend of mine put it, this house was gnarly," Alison says. "So many people had practiced on it that it was kind of like a crossword puzzle."

After years of tearing that hodgepodge apart and piecing it together, the couple's 1922 bungalow in Seattle's Ravenna district has been revived, with no loss of character or soul.

The plan was to reconfigure interior spaces, add refinements and let the house's history express itself, where appropriate. A major goal was to do all the work themselves — demolishing walls and lifting glue-lam beams included — and to pay as they went. With one exception, they succeeded: Rand Pigot, a cabinetmaker in Arlington, crafted and installed the kitchen counters and cabinets.

BECAUSE THE JAMES AND ALISON WANTED to keep the large windows along one wall, the Hansgrohe circular shower, with its sleek Philippe Starck fixtures, was the best solution in the downstairs bathroom. James painstakingly restored the bead-board ceiling and installed the tile floor.


JAMES CONVERTED a south-facing downstairs porch into a sunroom, which served as the couple’s bedroom until they remodeled the top floor. They salvaged the distinctive windows, eliminate disintegrating wood and poured a foundation to replace rotting piers. Lime-green paint was hand-scraped off all the woodwork.

The original living room had been just large enough so "you could fit in two of your best friends," James says. The couple transformed this and other cramped rooms and dark hallways into a living-dining room/kitchen on the main floor. Enclosing a back porch created a large sunroom with southern exposure; a small office is off the kitchen.

James moved his workshop and sculpture studio from the main floor to the unfinished basement, which he had dug out by hand and where he poured concrete for the floors and walls. He fit windows, revised an entryway and gained a well-lit working space.

The kitchen was relocated from a corner to center stage. A side porch was enclosed and flooring extended to create the dining area. This informal space invites conversation while meals are prepared. Clerestory windows provide light while preserving privacy.

The Bremses loosely define the motif for their remodel as Craftsman/Japanese farmhouse. In traditional Japanese households, the "tokonama" alcove holds what is beautiful and full of meaning. Here, in the kitchen, benign spirits are settling in.

"When James moved all of his studio downstairs," Alison says, "we were able to see how we used the space as a family. So, doing the kitchen last was very fortunate."

Elsewhere, they scraped old fir trim for "hours and days" and added new where necessary.

"I find real value in bringing something back to its near-original state," Alison says. Scuffs or original colors, such as traces of lime-green paint around the doorways, give this house character, she believes; people ask to hear the story.

SCULPTOR JAMES BREMS remodeled the basement to have three rooms for work and storage. Pieces from his Big Doll and Widget World series keep him company as he shapes clay into totemic figures.

"We were always fighting that sense of an achievable perfection," James says.

Still, James painstakingly remodeled the bathroom to meld vintage materials with high-style modern fixtures. He also pieced together new oak flooring in most of the living area to match what remained of original flooring.

Upstairs, breaking up two small bedrooms and an attic created space for an expansive hideaway with whitewashed fir floors, skylights and generous windows for enjoying the view. The couple framed in a master bathroom but retained the period style by installing the original claw-foot bathtub from downstairs. Near the master-bedroom suite is a bedroom for their 9-month-old daughter, Sonia.

"I always like houses where you walk inside and you are surprised by them," Alison says. "Here, you are expecting small rooms, but there is a big, open space. It is so much lighter; it's a very different feeling from the rest of the house."

The overall Asian influence is largely thanks to James' sensibilities. He lived in Japan several years ago while studying ceramics, has a background in Asian languages and is a longtime staff member at the Burke Museum of Natural History and Culture.

His father, Axel, worked in Seattle years ago as a builder for Gene Zema and other well-known architects. "He was my consultant on this," James says.

THE COUPLE transformed an attic and two small bedrooms into a light-filled master suite, which also serves as a play area for their daughter, Sonia. "I like houses where you walk in and are surprised by them," Alison says. Here, you are expecting small rooms after coming up a narrow stairwell.

Alison, a graduate of the University of Washington architecture program, is an associate with Johnston Architects, a small Seattle firm specializing in custom houses, libraries and multifamily projects. She has been part of design teams for the Capitol Hill and Maple Valley libraries, and is at work on several residential projects.

She grew up in Colorado in a family of professional people and never got her hands dirty.

"Now, I can hang a door," she says. "This has given me so much more confidence on the job site. I can go up to a contractor, and if the job hasn't been done right, I can say, 'I know this is hard, but if I can do it, you can, too.' "

Alison drafted plans for the Ravenna remodel, but the design was collaborative. "It might have been smarter to have torn the house down, but I'm glad we didn't," she says in retrospect.

"Working on this house brought James and I together in the sense we could both be passionate about a communal project. The journey was most of the fun, despite living for years with exposed insulation. A lot of people get divorced in these situations. We got married — despite it."

Dean Stahl is a Seattle freelance writer. He can be reached at architectsathome@mac.com. Benjamin Benschneider is a Pacific Northwest magazine staff photographer.