The New York Times gets a whole box of gold gummed stars for this excellent piece on Dan Phillips, a Texas builder who works exclusively with salvaged materials. (Be sure to look at the slide show.) I love this quote:
"Freed by necessity from what he calls the 'tyranny of the two-by-four and four-by-eight,' common sizes for studs and sheets of plywood, respectively, Mr. Phillips makes use of end cuts discarded by other builders — he nails them together into sturdy and visually interesting grids. He also makes use of mismatched bricks, shards of ceramic tiles, shattered mirrors, bottle butts, wine corks, old DVDs and even bones from nearby cattle yards."
Phillips, who's given his company the wonderful name of "Phoenix Commotion," has set up a drop site for builders, where they can get rid of excess materials without a dump fee, but can also write off the materials on their taxes as a donation. St. Louis has a few programs that are similar, including the Habitat for Humanity ReStore, but it would be great to see an even larger effort afoot to divert usable materials from the landfills.
The other thing I love about Phoenix Commotion is its commitment to building high-quality, sustainable low-income housing, using a simliar philosophy as Habitat for Humanity (the homeowner helps bulld the house). Though unfortunately some of Mr. Phillips' first clients have had their homes go into foreclosure, other homeowners are experiencing a substantial increase in their quality of life:
"One of his houses belongs to Gloria Rivera, a cashier at a doughnut shop, who built the home with Mr. Phillips and her teenage son in 2004. Before then, she lived in a rented mobile home. Constructed almost entirely out of salvaged and donated materials, the 600-square-foot wooden house is painted royal blue with various squares of red, maroon and fuchsia tile glued to the mismatched gingerbread trim.
Inside, there is imported Tuscan marble on the floor, though the tiles are not of uniform size, and bright yellow stucco walls that Ms. Rivera said she textured using her thumb. 'It’s not perfect but it’s mine,” Ms. Rivera said, touching the stucco, which looks like very thick and very messy butter cream frosting. “I call it my doll house.'"
To my eyes, this looks like organic architecture for the 21st century. --Stefene Russell
