By Fred Albert

	Click for more images Architect: Cottle Carr Yaw Architects Builder: Courtney Construction Landscape designer: Mt Daly Enterprise

Larry Yaw didn’t invent contemporary mountain architecture, but for 35 years he’s been one of its leading practitioners, marrying rustic materials with modern forms to create custom houses that transcend traditional labels. So it was a little surprising to find Victorian flourishes and off-the-shelf components adorning one of the architect’s recent projects; even more surprising to learn that the client was none other than Larry himself. The 2,900-square-foot house he shares with his wife, Phyllis, stands just a couple of blocks from the Cottle Carr Yaw (CCY) Architects office in Basalt, Colorado, an old whistle-stop just outside of Aspen. When Larry first visited the property seven years ago, he was more impressed with its generous dimensions and stately trees than with the house itself, a much-remodeled pseudo-Victorian dating from the early years of the last century.

The Yaws built a guesthouse on the property and lived in it while the remodel was begun on the main house. Unfortunately, the old walls were in such bad shape that Larry and contractor Mark Courtney decided it would be easier and cheaper to tear down the top two floors and rebuild them. Although Larry was no longer beholden to the home’s old bones, he stuck with his original plans to create a contemporary house that honors the old footprint and the neighborhood’s Victorian heritage.

“When you’re working under constraints,” Larry muses, “somehow a more interesting, thoughtful design emerges, because you’re challenged and you don’t settle for the first solutions that come along.”

To make the assignment more intriguing, the homeowner/architect limited himself by and large to materials that could be found at any lumberyard.

“The goal was to create something artful out of common, everyday components,” he says, admitting that he was also motivated by a budget far smaller than those of most of his clients.

The result looks like an old farmhouse by way of Pablo Picasso. Familiar elements—a gable roof, beveled siding, double-hung windows—are combined with skewed walls, color-coded bays, and an extended entryway that glows like a lantern at night, drawing visitors through the terraced front yard (a vestige of the property’s days as a dairy farm).

A wall of perforated steel, oxidized and waxed to a leathery patina, dominates the entryway, filling the space with a warm, russet glow. “I was determined to give it a quality that would be friendly,” says Larry, adding that visitors often caress the surface just to verify that it’s metal. A short flight of stairs leads to the main level and another steel wall—this one curved to guide visitors into the living room beyond.

The Yaws have four grown children, so privacy was not a primary concern for the couple. Consequently, doors are few and pass-throughs abound, linking one room to another in a daisy chain of interconnected spaces. Floors crafted from reclaimed southern yellow pine offer a warm counterpoint to white walls and contemporary works of art, which are augmented here and there by Navajo blankets and examples of Plains Indian beadwork. Contemporary furnishings cluster under the living room’s vaulted ceiling, which was covered in rough-sawn plywood topped with narrow battens to give it texture and make it appear lower.

Although Larry appreciates the environmental benefits of gas fireplaces, he’s no fan of fake logs and artificial embers, so he custom designed one without either. “I just wanted this fireplace to be about steel and flame,” says the architect, whose sculptural creation features a simple ribbed grate fitted with rows of gas jets. The firebox is secured behind a hinged steel door and set atop an angled wedge of Pennsylvania bluestone.

In the neighboring kitchen, cabinets crafted from common fir plywood are embellished with saw cuts, adding a touch of design at a negligible price. The lower cabinets were left natural; upper cabinets were stained to match the limestone counters and calculatingly fitted with windows that only fill part of the door (“because there’s always stuff you don’t want to see,” laughs Larry).

The kitchen is bordered by a formal dining room and a window-lined breakfast nook. To make the latter seem larger, one wall is slanted so the top leans outward, rewarding those who draw close with captivating views of the town below. Mount Sopris looms in the distance, with its snow-covered peak blazed pink by the morning sun.

“When we’re not working or sleeping we spend every moment outdoors—skiing, mountain biking, hiking, backpacking, or bird hunting,” says Larry. It’s abundantly clear that although he and Phyllis love their house, they consider it only a way station between visits to their real home—the one that beckons outside their door. Fred Albert writes about architecture and interiors for Metropolitan Home, Coastal Living, and Better Homes and Gardens publications. His latest book is Barkitecture.