While doubting that the industry as a whole would ever agree on where that line should be, Eldrenkamp is comfortable drawing one clear line in his own business: “Every house we work on must have a measurably lower energy load when we’re done, no matter what the project,” he says. Clients agree to this goal up front, and the performance is measured by energy audits using a blower door test and infrared camera before, during, and after the remodel. A consequence, Eldrenkamp says, is that his company is doing fewer additions, thanks to better use of the existing space. However, project scope “hasn’t changed as much as you’d think,” he says. Insulation budgets are bigger, for instance, and exterior details are sometimes reworked to accommodate the addition of rigid foam insulation under the new siding. Lighting budgets, however, “are going down as we use more surface-mounted fixtures than recessed fixtures.”
Another democratic line can be drawn at quality, ensuring well-built homes for even less-affluent clients. In Newbury, Vt., Housewright Construction might have clients whose budgets range from $500 to $175 per square foot. “The same care goes into the smaller ones,” says owner Craig Hervey. “Our standards are not compromised, period.” The finishes will vary, but the framing, building envelope, and other core components are equally solid.
EMOTIONAL CONNECTIONS Cheng asks others in the industry to establish their own lines — or at least, to sketch out a range of lines — and he says that doing so can pay off with a stronger reputation and body of work.
Cheng has never known of any of his projects to be torn out, for instance, though he has remodeled plenty of homes that were so big as to be unlivable and so trendy as to quickly look dated. “And every client that I’ve engaged with, when they turn around to sell the place, they leverage that investment,” he says. Even buyers who don’t like modern design feel drawn to his homes and emotionally connected to their use of materials.
This doesn’t mean being rigid or Draconian, he notes. “I, too, have a staff to maintain,” he says. “I can’t arbitrarily tank our cash flow for the next six months because I feel uptight about a client. Everything is measured, everything is relative.”
A key route to this middle ground is what Cheng calls “design-intensive work with a ‘wow factor,’” using “materials that people inherently feel good about.” For example, when possible and appropriate, this means locally made concrete (instead of, for instance, granite imported from China or Brazil) and lumber that is either salvaged, fast-growing, or certified.
He adds that his company strives for a look that is “more or less timeless — colors that aren’t flashy but are inspired by nature,” and compositions that are simple yet interesting, often with a local aesthetic.
Sticking by these principles usually results in a win-win, Cheng says. He cites a recent incident involving wealthy clients who wanted to use “an entire truck of concrete” to get a precise color for a sculptural water feature. Cheng, an expert in concrete forms, argued for a much smaller and less wasteful sample, noting that precision is impossible in concrete and the result would be close enough. “I had to say, ‘I can’t in good conscience do this,’” he says.
The clients pleaded that their investments in clean energy and their carbon trading proved their green credibility. But Cheng held his ground, eventually talking them into the much smaller sample and producing a look that “thrilled” them, he says.
While avoiding material excess, Cheng says he makes “no apologies for using up tremendous amounts of labor to create something. To employ people to use all these materials, to do a good job for gainful, artful employment, hey, that’s the best.”
To that end, besides creating and assembling its own concrete forms, Cheng Design also trains other contractors to do the same, thus feeding a “local craft movement” that both creates jobs and requires less energy for the transport of building materials over long distances.