ShelteredLife on Orcas Island

photography by Cesar Rubio / text by Peter Sackett
James Cutler of Cutler
Anderson Architects
created a vacation
retreat for Dixon and
Ruthanne Long that
fits gently into its
wooded site on
Washington’s Orcas
Island. The structure’s
glass walls, says
Cutler, “gather light,
provide views and
reveal the nature of
the materials.”
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Sheltered
Orcas Island
Life on
JAMES CUTLER DESIGNS A NATURAL RETREAT
ON THE WOODED EDGE OF PUGET SOUND
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Michael Skott
S
HEDDING RAIN, KEEPING THE WIND AND RAIN OUT, AND THEN HOLDING UP THE STRUCTURE
THAT KEEPS THE WIND AND RAIN OUT ARE WHAT USUALLY GENERATE OUR ARCHITECTURE,”
says James Cutler of Cutler Anderson Architects on Bainbridge Island, Washington. “It’s clothing
for the institution of family.”
Californians Dixon and Ruthanne Long had admired Cutler’s work—a residence in Idaho, a
library in Seattle and a structure at a Puget Sound nature sanctuary—and selected him for their
own project: a gathering place for their extended family. “We were blown away by the quietness
of his work,” says Dixon Long, “the repose, the way the architecture works with nature so comfortably
and intelligently. We knew this was the kind of architecture we wanted for our vacation place.”
That vacation place materialized at water’s edge on a steep, rocky shoreline on Orcas Island, the
largest in Washington’s San Juan Islands. Only thirty feet from Puget Sound, the house is all but
invisible behind a hillside curtain of ruddy-barked madrona trees and a sparse grove of Douglas firs.
Cutler, who began his practice in 1977 and was later joined by partner Bruce Anderson, has
a reputation for designing architecture that reflects his devout stewardship of the wooded, elemental beauty of the Pacific Northwest. Like Cutler, the Longs share a fondness for the maritime
climate and varied topography of the San Juans.
“We wanted to maximize the views without cutting a lot of trees,” says Dixon Long. “And we
wanted a very clear and obvious indoor-outdoor communication.” Amid the stand of fir trees, the
house with its cloaklike roof emerges from a salal-studded hillside. A sculpted barge of concrete
anchors the structure to the earth and provides a foundation for the interior roof supports.
opposite: In the living area, and throughout the house, cedar logs, which reach down past the beech floors to
the concrete foundation, were assembled into tripods as structural supports. “We never imagined the drama
that would be created by these huge logs,” says Dixon Long. above: The south facade looks out to Puget Sound.
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top: Chairs by Dakota Jackson pull up to the table in the dining area. Built-in cabinets for the kitchen and pantry were created
by Cutler Anderson. above: “The color palette came from the architecture,” says designer Doug Rasar, who opted for neutraltone furnishings and natural materials. The front entrance is at right. opposite: A breakfast area is off one end of the kitchen.
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above: Beech floors play off granite countertops in the master bath, where Cutler Anderson designed
lighting for the shower. opposite: Sliding doors in the master bedroom open to a cedar terrace.
A Holly Hunt lamp rests on the custom side table. Glant fabric covers the Donghia chair and ottoman.
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Michael Skott
opposite: Steps lead from the deck to a lower terrace. Robert Trachtenberg of Garden Architecture landscaped
the grounds. above: Just off the Longs’ property, a community dock makes for easy water access. “While we’re
here, we go boating, hiking or just hang out,” says Ruthanne Long. “We spend as much time here as possible.”
Light-spirited and painstakingly crafted of wood, glass and concrete, the house resembles a highly
articulated variation of a simple and ancient form of human shelter: the lean-to. The roof dictates the
architecture, organizing the house around and beneath it. “Our work is based on physics,” says Cutler.
“We work very hard to reveal what’s true—that buildings are shelter.”
The truth of the Long house is made plain with unconcealed arrangements of hand-peeled cedar logs;
massive ones span the underside of the broad roof, while smaller intersecting cedars lean in supportive
tripods beneath it. Because of their inherent stability, Cutler explains, “the tripods are the lateral bracing
for the building. The idea was to express the nature of the materials and the physical forces at work.”
Contractor Butch Alford harvested the logs from his father’s nearby property, where the final
selection was made. Alford then crafted custom tools from purpleheart wood to remove the bark
without marring the wood’s rich, warm surface. “When you’re doing a project like this, you might as
well do it with style,” he says. The tools are now displayed in the house as functional objects of art.
Below this airborne framework, Cutler laid out a single-level floor plan in a palette of waxy luminosity—cedar and whitewashed pine, a combination that is complemented by the restrained interiors of
designer Doug Rasar. The west end of the house contains the private wing: master bedroom, bath and a
study. At the other end, anchored by a fireplace, are a small living area, a dining area and a galley kitchen.
Dixon Long recalls Cutler’s blunt philosophy: “He said, ‘I have to kill trees, but I need to show my
respect for them and their dignity. I put the supporting structure inside and wrapped the glass around
it so that it won’t be exposed to the elements and deteriorate—the trees will be taken care of.’ ” The
thin glass wall encloses the interior like cellophane, providing the transparency that brings the active
waterfront inside. “This property is Grand Central Station,” says Ruthanne Long, “boats, boats, boats
all the time. There’s something companionable about all of that activity out there.”
“We’ve used these materials totally within their nature, and they all have a story to tell,” says Cutler,
who believes his job as an architect is to listen to each element. “If I’ve done it right, the lifespan of
the house will be centuries,” he says. “If the shingles turn grey and the concrete grows moss, it’ll get
better. To me, on a scale of one to ten, the Long house is an eleven.”
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