Inside Su Casa

Often when I tell people I’m editor of Su Casa, they ask me, “How do you stand seeing all those great houses? Don’t you wish they were yours?”

I always say no. Here’s why: take Judith McBean’s Moorish masterpiece on the eastern plains of New Mexico (page 82), for example. That’s her house. Ed Pease’s Cimarron, New Mexico, hideaway (page 106)? That’s exactly his home. Rina Swentzell’s amazingly embracing Santa Fe solar adobe (page 94)? That’s utterly, exclusively, and uniquely hers and her family’s.

“Home” is “house” spoken in first person—not an object, but the subject of one’s life. Home is a house filled with self, a nontransferable quality. The most impressive, affecting places I visit inevitably are the most personal, even idiosyncratic, their uniqueness expressed in terms like the private language between lovers. They bear the indelible mark of—someone.

In this issue of Su Casa, we visit the beginning and the end—if there ever is an end—of this home-making process: in the Homes of Enchantment Parade, many people seek and find their next home. Embark on the hunt with our Parade section: it starts on page 129 with maps and builder listings, followed by detailed descriptions of more than 100 houses and one Signature Community.

If you’re lucky enough to find your place, you might be on your way to creating a home as unique as Pease’s, Swentzell’s, or McBean’s.

Ed Pease told me he named his Cimarron house “Casa del Corazon” for the heart-shaped brand of the adjacent Chase Ranch, yet clearly the place has a strong grip on his heart. He has filled it with family heirlooms and memorabilia. In fact, Pease seems to have handpicked every object in that house, filling it with a subtle emotional resonance.

 



Photo © Jack Parsons


Against the characteristically American tendency to imperfectly mimic an exotic style of architecture, Judith McBean conceptualized her amazing New Mexican interpretation of a North African house by drawing on her years living in Morocco. Then she found an architect who could connect the dots between that design vocabulary and her particular needs and tastes. The resulting house reflects her inner vision of a protective, nurturing home in an arid land.

Rina Swentzell and her family began their house more than 25 years ago, so it appears the most evolved and form-fitting of this threesome. With its palpably and literally hands-on patina—from the mud walls to the countless objects of art inside—Swentzell’s house feels like it grew out of the ground under the nurturing hands of a sprawling extended family. And it did.

I like to think that someday my house will be similarly molded and shaped to my family and me. No doubt that morphing feeds on intention, attention, and action. You have the impulse or you wouldn’t have opened this magazine. Start on the Parade or start with a little tile in your old kitchen. Just start.