Good news, cedar siding is going on the dormers. Bad news is I just realized cedar siding's going on the dormers.
On an otherwise dismal day, at least one little portion of my existence is shaping up. Siding is going on the house. There’s a dormer that’s 2/3 covered in siding materials. The bulk of the house and garage will be Western Red Cedar siding that we’ll let weather to a natural grey color. The remainder will be painted board and batten siding. It took the picture above for me to finally realize a potential issue though. The cedar siding may wreak havoc with the health of our rain water collection plan. You can collect rain water for consumption off a variety of materials including asphalt shingles, but cedar is a no no. There are toxic preservatives in most if not all cedar shakes used for roofing. Cedar itself, regardless of preservatives, contains natural tannins and oils that make water coming off of it non-potable. Figures with everything going on I’d wait ’til the last-minute to realize there was an issue. I guess my oversight knows boundaries after today.
Ultimately though this only affects the three dormers on the house. The attic loft is painted board and batten siding so it won’t cause a problem.
I’ll know better tomorrow if we have to replace the one section on already. Otherwise everything is running along, slowly but surely. The siding job itself is stunning in conjunction with the metal roof. Bar none, it’ll be one of the best looking houses in the area. Of course I’m biased and know nothing of humility. Ugh, I wish we were doing stone right off the bat. We’ll all just have to wait a year.
Porch ceiling covered in OSB. Will then be wrapped and covered in insulation inside and out. The recessed lights have a built in adjustment so they'll slide down the requisite 1.5".
This week was remarkable also for the fact that I got back into the studio. Granted it was only to paint frames, but in the studio again I was. I had forgotten how good that can be for my soul. And no, it has nothing to do about hiding from the family. In fact, for half the time I had a guest artist in studio.
A budding "tape" painter just like his old man. Hopefully he loses the paint brush and makes something of himself someday. Being an artist is no way to go through life. Trust me.
I set up the easel and palette for my painting buddy, donned in his official “painting clothes”, and proceeds to bark out orders. He concisely tells me which colors of paint he’ll need for the night’s session. I’m then informed I need to supply him with no less than five brushes and two palette knives, all called out by their proper names. And every five minutes or so I am to stop whatever I am doing and supply him with painters tape. Not to get all ‘Flowers Are Red’ on the kid, but regardless of what colors I dole out most of the painting is a greenish grey blob. But if you were to ask the artist it’s a painting of his “Tower”. (Actually no need to ask, he tells you outright, so his ego-maniac, artist dad is doing something right). After about twenty minutes he’s done for the night and he retires back up the wooden stairs leading out of the basement, leaving me to my thoughts, paint and my one beer for the night. It will be easier when we’re in the new place as the studio will be on the first floor and easier to access the rest of the “action” in the house.
But also, hopefully, the new studio will be still somewhat secluded. For I forgot what it was like to get away from the rules, expectations, and order of “reality” and get back into the studio where pretty much anything’s possible with the bat of an eye. How nice it is to turn on some music, wet a brush and paint something. Anything. As I’ve mentioned before, there’s something to be said for solitude; no matter who you are or what you think you’re doing (or think you obligated to be doing) with your 24/7. A solitude and individuality that to the extreme can make one unbearable to be around, but well worth the risk in any instance. Trust me, I’d lead you not astray.
That being said it’s still a nice treat when you are fortunate enough to get the occasional fellow artist to join you in studio for a night. Even when he’s a demanding, blonde three-year old.
nine apple trees 