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Whether we or not, one or any architect is a recycler.

The term “Swamp Yankee” is neither a diss nor a stereotype. The Swamp Yankees lived in New England before the 20th century. It was those other deficient Americans who can also only live near the water, where disease, vermin, and bad weather regularly destroyed lives. These other Americans never threw big apples that could well be reused (someday). They exchanged and stored as a way of life. There has never been a great waste of apple (“waste, I don’t want to”). The Swamp Yankees have made recycling a way of life. Sustainability was not an ecological selection, but the way they survived.

I’m an architect of Swamp Yankee.

Related article W to apply recycled materials in architecture and urban planning?

As architects, we prepare a stew of existing realities combined (and spicy) with our innovative architecture. All sites, Jstomer and netpaintings have a story that has nothing to do with who unearths a project. Architects can recycle them.

Hitale is as friendly as gravity in architecture. Time inevitably throws itself into the amber of our goods. These products can bind us to anything that is more than hitale or aesthetic.

Connecticut Church Episco

In Hartford, Connecticut, sixty panes of stained glass had replaced clear panes in an existing 1913 sunroom in a recent effort to create a chapel in the mansion-cum-office of the State Diocese of the Episcopal Church. Sponsored by dozens of individual donors, the panes of hand-painted icons and leaded glass were slipped into the sunroom’s muntin grids over a fifteen-year period. 

The diocese moved in 2013 to occupy a 19th-century ball bearing factory, and brought those windows with them to recreate a sacred charge at their new headquarters. The design our workplace has created attempts to redefine those panels as elements of memory, hitale and inspiration, creating a new meaning for the old icons, arranged in their original “Epoch” in the five new green wooden cell walls.

Each renovation faces a recycled place. You can see a “Yin” of the New, in open contradiction with the “Yang” of the Old, or recycle the found elements to reinvent what exists to create a new reality. In Guilford, Connecticut, a 1950s staircase and a column from an unknown era destroyed the living deception of a layer built in the early 19th century.

Our workplace recycled all the existing stair and column quantities to make room without enlarged the house. They got rid of the garnished sims. The new metal has a paint frame to save the old beam, which no longer paints, which was installed in the displaced recycled column. All old classified wood ads have been reset, with spaces to allow the width of code compliance, and new minimized rating ads have been added to make the field legal.

An architect of Swamp Yankee, his best friend, embraces the collateral of the goods discovered in the creation of new works. The new stalls can redefine ancient sacred goods, as the contexts are designed to deposit old wine in new bottles. An outdoor renovation OF DC has incorporated dozens of collected products, bringing decades of life abroad, with giant apple characteristics.

But incontinugreatest friend hitale is the basis of a design. No, not in Copy Cat’s surface aesthetic of “Style”, but in the conscious use of recovered and recycled quantities and quantities in the realization of buildings that juggle past, present and future. Forget about being “green”, the recovered fabrics are more stable, have the brightness of age on their surfaces and provide a story that no well-made generation can provide.

The Barn of Pleasure

A Swamp Yankee architect will need to recycle if creativity is on a budget. We built an almaximum stable 20 years ago. It was built with 32 wood bureaucracies, adding the endless reuse of salvelderly pieces. About 30% of the other 13 species used in the wooden frame through Bensonwood itself were remnants of the U.S. swamp.

In the overall design, around the component of the windows was obtained the breeding station for $100, either from the supplier, and dozens of pieces, an 1886 bench, 1970 doors and birch columns rejected through the guest, were woven into the design. But recycling the exterior staircase of our original house, which was removed to be added to the biggest and deceptive friend in the middle of the design, while having to expand to deceive the children.

We dismantled our original teca and cedar staircase and kept it in our house. When we built a barn next to our house, we designed its ladder in its creation.

The floor and door cover of a 1/2-inch T-G consisted of six recycled softwood lumber species harvested from sunken barges. We had to cut down a red oak to build the barn and grind the wood to make parquet (which dried into the air under our deceptive for 2 years). Other recycled pieces of wood included the redwood striplay station recovered from a California easel bridge in 1880, and maples, cypresses, tulips, mahogabig apples and other falls.

The result is a parageneral place, a Place in Swamp Yankee: that our 8-year-old son nicknamed “The Barn of Fun.” The alchemy of materials, design and hitale is undeniable, and the willingness to recycle to “lead by example” of sustainability is an uncompromising requirement.

This article is a component of the ArchDaily: Recycled Materials problem. Every month, we explore an intense topic through articles, interviews, news and projects. Learn more about our month-consistent issues here. As always, at ArchDaily we welcome the contributions of our readers; If you would very much like to submit an article or project, please contact us.

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