GRACE FARMS | ARC
Cherry oak wood seems to accent everything so nicely. It compliments the glass mug to my right filled with fresh coffee, and the porcelain plate to my left. The table is round with 5 seats, but I have it to myself. I look out across the cafe, and am just so happy to be back here. After documenting this place so thoroughly and touring during the rain. It’s nice to come back on a sunny afternoon like today and soak in the moments I took for granted on the first pass. Ambient music plays, and I’m ready to begin writing about this place called Grace Farms.
The drive up to the site is a beautiful transition from large scale homes, to the more intimate trees, ponds and bushes that surround this area. Spring is really just starting and the forest is ready to breathe once again. When you enter the site, you are welcomed by 2 barn-like structures with a modern edge. The windows are perfectly square indicating that a touch of intention has been bestowed. It was time for us to check in for our tour, and the shelter of the barn was amplified by the intense rain and fog on the outside. Inside the long corridor filled with art foreshadowed the playfulness in such a futuristic place like this. Your steps are naturally guided to the first room - the peace forest.
Wood flooring and white walls are the stable for any museum, and this section is no exception. The sound of the rain is diffused by the pitch roof above, and the square glass window once observed from the outside now frames a perfect view of the adjacent forest. The ambiance reminds me of the exhibition spaces at the Phoenix Art Museum. A piece of home is already present, making the room comfortable and complete. On the ground are several squares resting on top of these flexible pieces of what seems to be some sort of cable rebar. As you walk around and intersect with the squares, they move and sway. We learn in the tour that these podium captions are designed to mimic trees. It all makes sense now. An anticipation is created since we haven’t even made our way to the crown jewel of the place - the River Building.
We exit the barn and cross the courtyard filled with even rows of trees when I catch sight of the structure. A Beautifully curved form. Elegantly fashioned with glass, concrete, and steel. Such humble materials I gravitate towards. We walk out of the rain and under the floating roof. You’ve escaped the rain without escaping it at all. You’re safe under the roof, but you still get the sound of the resin. You see how it flows down the building, and off to the sides. Truly, you cannot escape nature. Ironically, I have yet to explore the walking trail. I will do this now and return to write a but further on this experience of nature and architecture.
Im back at cherry oak rounded tables, a different one than an hour ago. I now have an even greater appreciation for this place. The landscape helped me to realize that the farm really is this sort of form, gently hugging the landscape. The trail provides many moments of hide and reveal. in one instance I’m hidden among the tall reeds, and in the other there is a perfectly framed view of the anodized aluminum roof, reflecting the sunlight on this nice spring day so effortlessly. The transparency of the glass coupled with the thin white beams makes the building disappear into nature.
On the trail are pockets of wooden planks that hover your steps just a few inches of the ground. It’s neither bridge nor ground, but a happy median. You go from grass to light wood chips. This brings me back to childhood days on the playground, the inevitable wood chip in the shoe is now welcome. I approach the woodland edge and find the small caption, expressing how vital this transition is from open land to forest. The thickets protect the trees that are planted behind, and almost act as this sort of natural filter. The bushes also bring me back to the foliage of Malibu. The hardy greenery is defensive and yet welcoming. All this to say that for such a beautiful building, it doesn’t overshadow moments like this, but rather showcases them entirely.
The first volume of the River building is the Pavilion - an enclosed oval room offering tea tastings around a circular wooden bar. Soft, warm lighting fills the edges, and resting on the white carpet are several Jacobsen chairs. Another nod to the swans that are visible in the surrounding ponds. It’s interesting how some architects are more well known for their furniture as opposed to their buildings. This idea alone creates an interesting conversation posing many questions about what is architecture, what does it mean to be remembered, and so on. But the pavilion fosters these discussion, it just begs you to relax and talk with your friends, or enjoy the sound of the rain with tea in hand.
The next volume is the commons room, the cafe I’m sitting in now. it’s not your typical cafeteria with a random assortment of cheap tables and chairs - this communal gathering space is just as intentional as the previous and the next, cherry oak makes its reappearance and really becomes more and more the star of the show while staying the background. The tables at the center are one, interrupted plank of wood, milled on site. The farm-to-table ethos is embraced with delicious food. Never have I been so excited to eat a roasted vegetable sandwich. I think the entire experience here just continuously exceeds expectation.
Up the hill is a slightly smaller volume - the library. A carefully curated selection of books on nature, and Taschen-sourced publications on the greats: SHIGERU, ANDO, ELIASSON etc. a faint jazz plays in the background. The idea of creating an enclosed volume within an enclosed volume strikes me so suddenly. The central conference table is in a glass box that distinguishes itself as different from the rest while still being a focal point of the library. Layers of glass always create curiosity and encourage further exploration.
The final volume is the Sanctuary - a large auditorium comprised of 700 seats and a gentle upward slope for the seating. No steps are visible like your typical venue, but rather each chair is custom cut to the rise and run of the sanctuary to fit its designated place. Even though the room has the capacity to host all types of events and performances, just to sit in and appreciation the horizon which it captures so perfectly would be enough. in the back is a sound proof room for any children that may be restless or if the sound is too overwhelming. Truly, an inclusive experience.
Grace Farms to me has themes of nature, organic form, and thoughtful architecture. It becomes one with the surrounding landscape, and pays its respect to the natural beauty. The river building stands alone and coexists with the ground, the trees, and the sky. The curve of the entire structure encourages movement, but creates pockets of closure in each of the volumes. Every person is thought of. The child, the parent, the artist, the elderly. Everyone has a place when the architecture is thinking of them. It has the human touch, the heart of the craft. I take a deep breathe because it’s time for me to leave and drive back home. But the beautiful thing about good design is that it never really leaves you, even when you’ve carried on with your day. The ideas that they impose live on endlessly in the mind.
