One day in 1994, when Pamela Berstler and Alex Stevens were in the middle of a radical whole-house remodel, a worried-looking neighbor stopped by to inquire, "You're not going to do anything different to the front, are you?"
When Berstler answered, "Uh, no, not much," she wasn't actually fibbing. After all, the remodeled house, which was originally built in 1941, has a front door, just like before, and original wood siding and the same number of windows.
But if you consider that the front of the once-gray house in West Los Angeles is now painted dark green and bright orange, with lavender windowsills and eaves, and that there is now a second-story deck peeking over the roof that is reached by lavender stairs with magenta railings, then perhaps Berstler was being a little sly.
"The idea was old house, new house," said Berstler, a garden designer, pointing out that the siding on the left front side of the house is original, while the salmon-colored stucco on the right is new.
For the Record
Los Angeles Times Sunday March 29, 1998 Home Edition Real Estate Part K Page 5 Real Estate Desk 1 inches; 29 words Type of Material: Correction
Photo credit--The credit on the above photo, which ran with the "Pardon Our Dust" story in the March 15, issue, was inadvertently omitted. The picture was taken by architectural photographer Gary Isaacs.
Actually, the house is at least 75% new after the massive, drama-filled remodel, which was completed last year.
The original house had two bedrooms and one bathroom; the "new" house has three bedrooms and two baths, including a new master suite with French doors overlooking the backyard.
Plus, the house has new floors, a new roof and mostly new walls. Because the couple have offbeat tastes, many of the materials used are odd, old or both.
For instance, the big industrial light over the dining room table was salvaged from a warehouse in Baltimore. Many of the doors and windows, along with the claw-foot tub in the new master bathroom, came from the L.A. Wrecking Co.
Closet doors in a hallway are made of perforated aluminum sheets. And the furniture is mostly from thrift shops, in accordance with Berstler's vow: "I won't pay more than $7 for a chair."
The remodeled kitchen is both old and new, with contemporary cabinets built of Finnish maple plywood and the home's original 1940s chrome wall oven.
Adding visual excitement is an older refrigerator that was hauled to an auto body shop for a coat of bright red enamel paint.
"I'd pit my kitchen against any other," said Berstler, pulling a homemade pound cake from the oven.
In the backyard, a jungle of flowers, succulents and vegetables in raised beds has replaced what was once a patchwork of concrete slabs with small holes cut out for rosebushes. When the concrete was excavated, Berstler discovered a layer of plastic sheeting and a deeper layer of stones. The previous owners "didn't want any weeds," she said.
But the last few years of serious composting and amending the soil have created a natural environment that attracts hummingbirds, dragonflies, squirrels, frogs and grasshoppers.
As the transformation of the house and garden progressed, other nearby residents, most of whom live in more conservative-looking homes, were curious. Berstler recalls disembarking a city bus near the house when a fellow passenger remarked, "I wonder what they're doing to that house. I hear the husband is an artist."
To satisfy that curiosity, Berstler made up invitations for a post-remodeling open house and hand-delivered them throughout the neighborhood. Two hundred neighbors and friends showed up to help the couple celebrate.
A massive transformation wasn't Alex Stevens' original intent in 1993 when he bought the house for its quiet neighborhood, its location near Santa Monica, an affordable price and a giant Chinese elm tree in the frontyard.
And as for the dark, tiny house with its mishmash of added rooms--an awkward bedroom space had been built between a bedroom and the garage, and a somewhat rickety sun room had been tacked onto the kitchen--well, he figured he'd find a way to make it all work out. "I knew it would be a project," said Stevens, an art director with Columbia TriStar Pictures, "but just not how much."
However, the 1994 Northridge earthquake altered his house and his perspective.
"The earthquake started to separate parts of the house," said Stevens, who figures the rooms were added on as the previous owners had more children. "It was obvious the parts were separating from each other. We ended up tearing apart the whole house."
Happily, the couple applied for and received government earthquake loans, which upped their budget for the remodel to $100,000.
To start the process, the couple found an architect who helped solve some of the biggest design questions. For instance, which of the motley rooms do you scrap and which do you salvage? And how do you coordinate the various heights and shapes of cobbled-together roofs for each of those added rooms?
According to the architect's plan, the added bedroom space would be eliminated, the sun room would be integrated into the design and a new master bedroom would be built.