The carbon-neutral renovation of a century home in St. Catharines, Ontario, Canada, into our new family residence is remarkable in many ways. My wife, three boys and I had lived more than a decade in a five-bedroom, 5,000-square-foot house on an acre in Cambridge; it had a very big footprint. Our new two- bedroom house, measuring 1,560 square feet over two floors, sits on 0.04 acres (50 by 35 feet) and we love it. My architecture firm designs big, beautiful houses, but I chose to live a more modest life with my family and it’s paying off.
The retrofit not only retains the 25- by 32-foot footprint of the 1911 cottage, but also its elevations and site plan. Demonstrating sensitivity to heritage context, its steel cladding and fastening details pay homage to what was the most important Canadian shipbuilding center during the 19th century, located 20 minutes east of Niagara Falls.
On an ideological level, the project makes a polemical argument against the conspicuous consumption of McMansions and monster homes. On a personal level, the house is a remembrance of things past that makes a nostalgic yet contemporary, back-to-the-future statement about family and community.
Living in our lovely house in the country, we were isolated from each other because there was so much space. We all did our own thing in different rooms and would come together in the kitchen or dining room a couple times a day.
Yet I grew up in the 1960s and ’70s in East York, a closely knit, grassroots community of postwar bungalows in Toronto’s east end that still tugs at my heartstrings. I played street hockey there, walked five blocks to school and had a paper route. People raised families and retired in those nicely scaled, income-appropriate, affordable houses, which measured about 1,200 square feet. They were built for soldiers returning from World War II who were starting families and working in local factories. Residents were happy with one garage, which wasn’t used for cars, but for storage and workshops; cars were parked in front of the house. Kids happily slept two or three to a bedroom.
Our family of four lived in two bedrooms and used every square inch of the house; every room was a multipurpose room. As a result, we were a close family. We spent much of our social time together in the same room absorbed in conversation.
When I wanted to get away from the family, in a positive way, I had to leave the house. There was no massive rec room with video games and a private digital world. I spent a good part of my childhood outdoors, riding my bike or playing with friends in our backyard, in their backyards and, after hours, in the schoolyard nearby. Kids relied on other kids and found spaces outside the house to grow and learn and take risks.
I love the Canadian vernacular of 1 1/2-story houses where the attics are used, built along a small-scale, densely packed urban street grid. There is an economy about those dwellings that I missed, one that most young families don’t seek anymore. Instead, they feel compelled to meet a big-space standard and overextend themselves financially. Rather than looking for the attributes of a great neighborhood and doing with less, they look for more and more. The ratio of footprint to person has certainly changed since I was a kid.
The Niagara region attracted us for its strategic location—with our firm’s three offices within reach. Looking for a neighborhood like the one I grew up in, we found Western Hill in Saint Catharines, built for working-class families but now filling with young middle-class types who don’t want a large suburban home. They recognize that these older houses require attention and don’t bulldoze them because they value their scale and affordability. They’re doing careful, affordable renovations, not making breathtaking changes but just adding another modest layer.
I feel that old sense of community again. I love that we watch out for each other. My neighbors shovel our snow when I’m not around, just like when I grew up. I cut the grass for the lady next door, and she’ll bring us a pie.
PHOTOS: Stan Switalski Photography unless otherwise noted