Rhythm & Reference
A symphony of vision and place
photography: Tim Brown
(page 1 of 3)
Long before the perfect barnwood was selected or the deliciously difficult strut connections were designed, Russ and Gemma Daggatt’s house existed as an idea—or, rather, an ideal. The home they imagined shortly after they first met was to be an enchanted place, one that would compel family and friends to return year after year, etching fond memories along the way. It would pit historical relevance against architectural innovation. It would be fun.
With the skills of Ketchum architect Jeff Williams, builder Jerry Hayward, landscape architect Richard Emik, and a little luck, their vision was coaxed into reality. In the end, the Daggatts had created not just a house, but a new and personal sense of place in which to make their own history. “I have never before lived somewhere where everything was just as I like it,” says Russ.
The story begins with an incomparable mountain town. For their second home, the Daggatts sought a location close enough to their native city of Seattle for weekend visits, with a different climate and year-round recreational opportunities. Both Russ and Gemma had grown up walking or biking and didn’t relish the thought of being chauffeurs to their children. “We wanted a place that was a real town, not just a resort, but with many of the things city people like—such as The New York Times, a good grocery store, good restaurants, and a diverse set of cultural amenities,” Russ explains. “That narrowed our list down to one place: Ketchum.”
Russ’s enduring love of moving water has been reinforced by the experience of guiding on rivers around the world. “I knew that, some day, our dream home would have to be on the Big Wood,” he says. The Daggatts assumed that a teardown would be their only chance of acquiring riverfront property in town, but—as anyone who has searched for property knows—timing is everything. While walking the river with a realtor friend, Russ serendipitously came upon nearly seven acres of undeveloped land behind Atkinson Park. He contacted the owner and bought the property just days before it would have gone on the market.
“We knew that seven acres was too big for our needs . . . and means. But this gave us the ability to design not only our own home and property, but also our neighborhood,” explains Russ. “In addition to being a big opportunity for us, we also viewed it as a big responsibility to the town and our neighbors. Bad land-use planning, even more than bad architecture, is a crime against society.” This sort of conscientious thinking would be a recurring theme for the Daggatts throughout the building process.
Though the property, as zoned, would accommodate over 20 building sites, the Daggatts subdivided it into four lots that would eventually be sold as two parcels. The “Hideaway Subdivision” was named after the motel, consisting of several small log cabins, that had once occupied the site. The last remaining cabin was renovated as part of the new construction.
Over the course of a couple of years, landscape architect Richard Emik walked the property with Russ for hundreds of hours, studying the sun and the surroundings in each season. The resulting landscape plan has helped preserve the subdivision’s wild, natural character and keep it hospitable to wildlife (fresh elk scat on the driveway verifies his success). The subdivision was restricted to require mostly tall wild grasses and native vegetation, as opposed to manicured landscaping. Driveways and building envelopes were scattered to preserve views and save large stands of healthy cottonwoods. And the riparian zone along the river was doubled, from 25 to 50 feet.
Hundreds of trees have been planted in the subdivision, and Russ chose and precisely placed scores of them on the Daggatt property. “The bigger, more unique specimen trees are like friends or family—I look forward to growing old with them,” Russ says. “That attachment to the living things on the land is one of the main things that make me want to return to this property in every season, year after year.”
Shortly after purchasing the land, Russ and Gemma presented architect Jeff Williams with several distinct ideas for their new home. “We gave Jeff a photo of an old, abandoned mining building in Montana,” Gemma says. “It had a rusted metal roof and grayed wood siding. That was my dream building. Russ wanted a log cabin. So we asked Jeff to make the two collide. We were also very clear that we wanted a ‘21st-century log cabin,’ as we call it—meaning modern.”
They soon discovered that their lot was directly across from the site of an old smelter, once the largest building in the Valley. “We started our search for form and materials with research into this long-gone structure,” Williams says. “Our study of early Valley structures of all types led us to refer to these early buildings and materials in an appropriate way.” By weaving their not-so-disparate visions together, the Daggatts and Williams were able to conjure up a house that is both contemporary and contextual. >>>
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