When Chad Francis, owner of Ellsworth-based Atlantic Landscape Construction, decided to build a home on Phillips Lake in Dedham, he knew he wanted to work with someone local. “I talked to several architects, but I’d seen some of the stuff Rob had done, and I liked that he had a little bit of funk to the way he goes about some things,” Francis said, explaining his decision to go with Rob Ervin, owner and principal of Ervin Architecture. “Once he and I got jamming and tossing stuff back and forth, he figured out my vibe and I figured out his vibe pretty quick.”

He and Ervin, who was based in Bangor at the time, realized their fathers had also worked together, many years earlier, which only further sealed the deal. “Chad and I have become very good friends,” says Ervin. “We’re wired similarly, and because of that, the end result and the process to get there was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. It was easy, it was fun. It was cerebral, and we didn’t stress out on things that we knew collectively we could get done. That next-level layer of detail and fuss to get everything right is evident in this house.”

After spending several summers on the lake, Francis and his wife, Michele, purchased the Phillips Lake property where the new home sits in “I’d been looking at this piece of land for a while. There was a camp on it, right where my house is now, and I hemmed and hawed on it until a friend of mine said, ‘You’ve talked about that piece of land for a long time, and if you’re not going to buy it, I think I’ll buy it.’ That was just enough to push me over the edge to grab it.”

The 1.45-acre site included 550 square feet of lake frontage, two beaches, and a 1930s-era log cabin. The original plan was to keep the cabin and then build a year-round home in its place once the kids—a son plus boy/girl twins, now 19 and 16 years old respectively—were in college. But the prospect of building something more permanent was exciting. “I was looking at the stage of life my kids were in and where everyone wanted to be—and everyone wanted to be at the lake. It’s just a fun place for us to hang out,” says Francis, who is now separated from his wife. “I wanted to make sure I had space so that, as my kids grow and have families of their own, they’ll have room to come home and a place to consider home.”

By the summer of 2019 he’d decided to move the log cabin to a nearby parcel of land, which he also owns, so he could begin building a new year-round home on the lakeside site. This meant clearing the lot to get the old camp out and prepping the property for the new foundation. Relying on his landscaping expertise, Francis kept the clearing of the property as minimal as possible, especially on the lakefront side. “There was a large effort in reforesting after the fact, but that was more on the road side,” he says. Making the new plantings look natural was an important consideration, as was privacy, minimizing the glare of headlights and buffering noise from the road in front of the house.

The list of must-haves for the home included decks and porches with specific views, an expansive living room with a cathedral ceiling and hand-hewn stone fireplace, and an adjacent kitchen with a lower ceiling to help create a more intimate environment. “There was a signature concept they were looking for,” says Ervin, who signed on in the fall of 2019, “and it was up to us to make sure we were scaling the spaces correctly, that we were picking the right finishes and the right lighting to make sure it was going to be extraordinary.” Functionality is another key element for Ervin, who asks clients to walk him through their days so he can understand exactly how they’ll live in the space, right down to where they put the keys when they come in. He then designs based on what he has learned.

From the beginning, Francis knew exactly how he wanted to modify the property, from moving the camp to elevating one side of the lot and dropping the other side. As a result, the new home resembles a relatively modest single-story house from the road but has a walkout lower level, opening up on the back side to reveal two floors of windows to take advantage of the expansive lake views. “I wasn’t really expecting the home to get quite as big as it did, but once I got into it, I was committed,” he says. “I’ve really moved around a lot, and I’m at a point in my life where I want to settle down. I’ll be here for a long time.”

Ervin describes the style of the finished six-bedroom, five-bathroom home as “Maine mountain modern,” drawing inspiration from nearby Acadia National Park. The mix of textures gives the structure a rustic mountain-chic sensibility, featuring hand-hewn beams, custom stonework, and artisanal craftsmanship throughout, including the use of birch bark in the primary bedroom. The home—with 6,824 square feet of living space and 1,050 square feet of outdoor space—has a commanding presence from the lake, with strong vertical elements, striking stone columns, and a stone-clad lower story. “We were able to take an otherwise monolithic building and add exterior framing, stonework, and other material treatments that introduce different types of texture, as well as the rooflines and porches, and to break it up and create something that was digestible,” says Ervin.

“We listened to the landscape,” he continues. “We used indigenous materials as much as we could.” In fact, most of the stone was either from the site or from Francis’s own quarry in nearby Franklin, and the home was framed in native spruce and hemlock, including some that had been cleared from the site. Francis did much of the landscaping and stonework himself. He also planted numerous trees on the property, including a few that have moved with him from previous homes. “One tree, a 16-foot paper bark maple, has been with me for the last four houses I’ve lived in. It has a little wind chime in it my daughter made for me,” he explains. “I couldn’t remove it without breaking the tree, so I moved the whole thing with me.”

Ervin is primarily known for his commercial work, but he likes to do a few residential projects each year. He sees each project as a creative endeavor, one where you can accomplish everything in the design. “I’m kind of a mad scientist in that respect, and I’m obsessive over the final design solution,” he says. That persistence paid off when it came to one of the biggest challenges on the project: the north-facing property.

“It’s one of the most beautiful spots on the entire lake, but it faces north, and the signature view north needed to have all this glass,” says Ervin. The windows had to be sealed to prevent drafts, and because they wouldn’t get direct sunlight, they’d always be in shadow. “We had to really wrestle with that, but we were able to hack the conditions. We oriented the house to grab morning sun and sunsets on the porches, but we couldn’t get any sun in the middle of the day. Ultimately, I think the house now kind of faces northeast. We added as much glass as we could in the dining room, which is due south.”

Challenges aside, for Ervin some of the best design decisions in the home include “putting the guts of the house into a walk-out lower level”—three bedrooms, a home theater, storage, and laundry—and being generous with the sizes of the rooms. He also applauds the decision to go all-in on the outdoor porches, especially the area around the outdoor fireplace. “I really want to hang out there,” he adds.

Francis and his family moved into the house in 2021, and when asked about his favorite spaces, he doesn’t hesitate: “The deck outside my bedroom. In the last year or so, I’m out there every night, especially in the summer,” he says. “And in the fall and the wintertime, I spend all of my time in the great room, in front of the fireplace.” As for the kids, he says that one of their favorite spaces in the house is the theater. “They love it. They’ll go down there sometimes and be all bunked-out with their buddies, all across the couches.”

For Francis, there’s one other area that’s especially close to his heart: the kitchen. “I entertain a lot. I love to host friends and family and cook for them. My folks are right across the cove from me, on the same lake. I have good friends on the lake, too. We host really big Sunday dinners, with 20-plus people sometimes. It’s an open invitation for the neighbors and friends, kids, and kids’ friends. It’s cool. And I love my big, open kitchen; it’s got a lot of space. I can really get after it in there,” he says, laughing. “If you like to cook, you like to cook—it takes room.”

In the early 1900s, steamships would arrive at the dock in Rangeley and drop off passengers, visitors from Boston and New York seeking the peace and quiet of the Maine woods. Some were wealthy socialites with mansions, but others were coming to stay at the sporting camps, renting rooms and cabins by the week or month. Pickford’s Camps, located on the south end of Rangeley Lake, were one of many, but to their customers they were special. And they still are.

For the new owners, the historic Pickford’s cabin isn’t just a place to escape. It’s become their permanent residence. After decades of visiting Maine for the summer, sleeping in a rustic little cabin purchased in the late 1990s, the idea of living on a lake was “a longtime dream.” In 2017 they were leaving their summer home and headed down to their home on the coast of New Hampshire when their realtor called with news of a new property on the market. “We turned right around and drove back north,” recalls one homeowner.

“When we saw it, we knew.” The biggest draw was the lakefront view. The couple, originally from the Midwest, “had a vision” for the place, one that would enhance the existing features of the old Pickford house while (gently) modernizing it. “It’s close to town, it has a great view, it has all these good things about it,” he continues. “But we also knew we would need to change it to live here year-round. It didn’t have the right utilities.” The couple was also considering retirement, and they wanted to ensure the space was designed for single-floor living, which would take some rejiggering of the floor plan. “We wanted an architect to bring their expertise to the layout,” says the homeowner, “and we also wanted a builder who could bring in their knowledge and craftsmanship.” The finished product needed to reflect the history of the Pickford cabins, and to do that they’d need a builder well versed in the region’s vernacular.

But first, the drawings. Hiroko Lindsey, an architect based in York, Maine, created hand-drawn plans for the renovation. “Renovating an existing house always presents unique challenges,” she says. “My top priorities when speaking with clients are to listen and understand their visions, needs, and lifestyle. This project, in particular, was a lakefront property, and the clients wanted to capture the essence of the beautiful views.” To gain window space, Lindsey added larger dormers to “capture the views of the lake more effectively.” She also updated the staircase and shifted the downstairs layout to “improve functionality.” While the new homeowners weren’t interested in adding too much to the overall footprint, Lindsey did design a few additional spaces for the couple, including a mudroom (located off the garage) and a bathroom for the owners’ suite.

“Hiroko is very talented, and her drawings are beautiful,” says Jill Gordon, designer at Rangeley Building and Remodeling. “Because she did it all remotely, we ended up changing a few things from the original drawings—not enough for it to be unrecognizable,” she adds. Both Mark Gordon (who oversaw the construction) and Jill (who did all the interior design) live full-time in the Rangeley Lakes region. “We’re really into old houses and the history of Rangeley,” says Jill. “Mark is on the Historical Society board, and we both worry about the historic cottages on the water being torn down and replaced with new buildings. That was one of the big things that attracted me to this project—being able to save one of those camps from being demolished.”

“The house was on a foundation, which is a great place to start. Often, these older camps are not,” explains Jill. Fortunately, the team at Rangeley Building was able to bypass the time-consuming tasks of pouring new concrete and digging a basement, and they could instead focus on restoring and updating the structure. The homeowners had already enjoyed the house for a few years and wanted to keep their aged, knotty pine walls. Before construction began, the husband went through and “painstakingly” removed all the old boards and the nails. “We were able to put all those old boards back up after we finished putting in insulation, the new doors, and the upgraded windows,” explains Jill. “It’s familiar to them, which feels really nice.”

While the warm yellow boards worked well on the walls (and fit with the homeowners’ vintage style), they wouldn’t do for the floors. Because pine is so soft, the crew at Rangeley Building suggested using a different species underfoot. Knowing that there were going to be dogs coming in and out of the house, they opted for cherrywood stair treads, newels, and floors.

Jill balanced the warmth of the cherry, with its red undertones, and the pine, with its yellowish sheen, by adding green paint into her kitchen design. The butcher’s block island and countertop (both made of cherry) sit beside slabs of honed granite from Morningstar Stone and Tile in Jet Mist and below cabinets from Vining’s Custom Cabinets painted in Benjamin Moore’s Raintree Green. “I always say to clients, let’s bring some color into the house,” says Jill. “But because colors change with the natural light, I like to work through the options together. The last thing I want is for someone to have these gorgeous cabinets and for the colors to just not work.” They pulled inspiration from the “lushness of the forest outside,” settling on a shade that reminded Jill and the homeowners of “soft new ferns.” Located toward the front of the house, the kitchen also features reversed island seating that allows for casual dining while looking out at the lake (instead of into the kitchen).

However, there is one time when guests will sit and stare toward the cooktops: when they’re watching television. There was a lot of discussion about where to place the TV. The homeowners didn’t want it obstructing the view of the water or sitting above their stately new fireplace, so they opted to put it into the kitchen island. At the push of a button, a flatscreen pops out and swivels, allowing those seated on the nearby Pottery Barn sectional to take in a movie (or two) on a rainy day. “It was quite the process, and a challenge for the cabinet makers,” says Jill. “But because of the size of the room, it was what had to be done. We were already right at the 100-foot line and couldn’t make it bigger, so instead we focused on making it just right.”

While the upstairs “has more of a camp feel,” according to the homeowner, the first floor was opened up and modernized for daily life on the lake. In addition to the new en suite bathroom, the owners’ suite also got a new ceiling. “We completely gutted their bedroom because it had a low, flat ceiling,” says Jill. “We took all that out and vaulted it below the roofline.” All the windows throughout the house were replaced, and instead of a more traditional wood trim, Jill decided to paint them white to “brighten it up a bit.” In the bathroom, rustic alder cabinets and brown marble countertops bridge the gap between sleek and cozy. “It’s a fine balance,” the homeowner says. “We didn’t want anything formal, because we’ve had that already. Jill picked out a nice mix of modern conveniences and things that tie in with the old parts of the house.”

To give another example of this fine balance, the homeowner cites the deck railing. “It’s glass, which isn’t traditional, but it looks really great and supports that beautiful view outside,” he says. During the summer, they like to sit on the deck and listen to the lake come alive with vacationers. “We can hear the kids running around nearby, and the voices carry around the lake. But it’s also great when it gets quiet in the fall, and you can hear all the critters,” he says. After everyone leaves for the season, the couple likes to spend time on the porch watching deer treading lightly around the shoreline and eagles swooping over the water. “My wife is learning to identify the birds,” the homeowner adds. “And we listen to the owls hooting, and the loons. It’s so classic.” It’s so Maine.

There’s a great deal of nostalgia that comes along with a childhood home, so when designer Abigail Shea, founder of Studio Eastman, was asked to help renovate the circa-1970 Rockport residence inherited by six siblings, she knew the stakes were perhaps a bit higher than with a typical project. Fortunately, Shea already knew one of the siblings, having worked with Tim Killoran a year prior on the renovation of his vacation house next door. He thus served as the family spokesperson throughout the duration of the project, acting as a go-between for the siblings, who are spread out across the country, and the design team, which also included architect Kevin Browne (a friend of Tim’s sister, Christina Killoran) and builder Jared Swain (the contractor on Tim’s aforementioned renovation next door). “We discussed the project as a family every Sunday evening,” recalls Tim. “We lost both our parents in the span of a year, so it was actually a nice way for us all to grieve. I would look forward to talking with everyone each week.”

Although the siblings didn’t necessarily desire a drastic change, a gut renovation was in order, as the structure—which is perched on a rocky ledge on a wooded lot overlooking Penobscot Bay—was in dire need of updating. In addition to tackling the systems and everything else behind the walls, the team took the opportunity to make the four-bedroom, two-bathroom house function a bit better for large family gatherings. “Growing up as a family of eight, sharing two baths was interesting,” says Christina with a laugh. “And a couple of the existing bedrooms were very small and unusable, so we wanted to make sure we had comfortable bedrooms as well.” Reworking and optimizing the existing square footage (and fitting in two more baths) was key, as there are 20 family members, including children, when everyone gathers at the property.

Because the site is a steep slope, the residence features an upside-down floor plan: three bedrooms and a media room on the lower level; the primary bedroom, kitchen, dining, and living on the upper level; and a sleeping loft above that. “The original architect wanted the house to feel like a ship, and instead of regular hallways, there were wide corridors that were a waste of space,” explains Tim. “We closed off one of these areas on the lower level with a pocket door and made it a media room. It’s great to have another area to hang out that’s separate from the living room. Kevin also suggested closing off part of an upper loft to create a bunk area for the kids.” The kitchen and dining area sit a half-level above the living room, but a visual connection is maintained thanks to an oak-and-rope railing. Behind the kitchen, a separate pantry has been opened up and now serves as an extension of the kitchen. Shea leaned into the fact that the space doesn’t have a ton of natural light and painted it a moody green. Even the countertops transition from light to dark, with white quartzite in the kitchen and soapstone in the pantry. “We had to get creative to maximize the existing space,” says Browne. “We wanted to utilize it to its fullest potential so that it works better for multiple families to spend time together.”

As one can imagine, with six clients there was no shortage of opinions—many of which centered around trying to salvage some of the home’s beloved features they grew up with. “I talked to each of the siblings about what items were nostalgic for them,” explains Shea. “It was a fun and special process trying to maintain the things that felt homey to them.” The new oak-and-rope railing system, for instance, is a nod to the former net railing, which didn’t meet current codes and needed to be amended. The corner woodstove is another favorite architectural element among the siblings, but it was also in rough shape. “We needed to do a lot of steel work on the surround to reinforce it,” says Swain. “We kept the original angled design but switched out the brick for a concrete finish.” Perhaps one of the most dramatic changes is the ceiling that extends over the living room, kitchen, and dining area. “We initially wanted to preserve the knotty pine ceiling, but with the new wood flooring, we were concerned about there being too much wood,” explains Tim. “What ultimately sold me on painting it an off-white is how aged and yellow the wood had become.” According to Browne, “Everyone was torn on the decision, but it would have been a lot of work to refinish it. Now it feels light and airy, like a blank canvas.”

When decorating this blank canvas, Shea’s goal was to “marry a sense of nostalgia with a clean, contemporary feel,” she says. “I wanted to give the family a fresh start that’s still in keeping with the original architecture. We didn’t come in and make this look like a new, modern house that feels out of place. Instead, there’s some subtle midcentury furniture and lighting layered with traditional New England pieces and California-inspired elements.” In fact, imbuing Maine properties with a bit of organic California style is something that Shea does often to “avoid making Maine projects feel too coastal,” she says. “I’m trying to add more nuance to the conversation about Maine interiors.” The designer stuck to a soft and subdued palette that includes cream, oatmeal, flax, blue, and green. “I’m not big on contrast,” says Shea. “I prefer to layer textures within the same color family. The earth tones are a nod to the outdoors, which is the star of the show. There’s no bold Pop Art or crazy sculptural pieces. When you have a view like this, it’s my job to make people forget about the interiors and draw their attention out to the ocean.”

Aside from vintage pieces she sourced herself and some practical finds from retailers such as Crate and Barrel, Sixpenny, and Pottery Barn, Shea also reincorporated some of the vintage items that had always been in the house. “We definitely wanted to keep some of the mid-twentieth-century aesthetic,” says Tim. “My parents had some furniture from the 1960s, and we told Abby which pieces we liked.” In addition to some office furniture, bureaus, and an antique drop-leaf table, the dining table—the same one the family has congregated around throughout the years—was refinished and paired with some new vintage-inspired chairs in a similar wood tone. “It wasn’t always easy to make changes when none of us really wanted anything to change,” says Tim. “It’s a tall order to get six people to agree on anything, especially when they’re emotionally tied to it, but Abby did a great job.” Eventually, says Christina, “You come to realize that it isn’t necessarily the external features of a house that you have a strong emotional attachment to. It’s the people.”

Many years ago, the artist Philip Guston took a gaggle of art students to view the Frick Collection in New York. Among his young protégés was Lewiston-born multidisciplinary artist Charlie Hewitt, who had befriended Guston while at a six-week art program at Skidmore College in Saratoga Springs, New York, where Guston had been artist in residence. “Guston was talking very animatedly about a Goya painting and waving his hands around,” recalls Hewitt. “A guard told him he was getting too close to the painting, and Guston being Guston, he got into a big fight with the guy, cursed him out, and decided to take us to the Central Park Zoo instead.”

At the zoo, Hewitt, who was always doodling—“I have a compulsive need to draw constantly,” he concedes—made several quick drawings of some of the animals and hung them on the walls of his studio. Guston arrived the next day to critique Hewitt’s paintings but was drawn to the doodles. “He said, ‘Charlie, I think what you need is in these. I don’t know how you’re going to get there, but I think this is a way you have to go.’ It felt good to me, since I was very connected to that work,” Hewitt remembers.

Today you could say that Hewitt’s Electric Greenhouse in Portland is a monument to his doodling. The artist Paul Klee famously declared, “A drawing is simply a line going for a walk.” Hewitt, intentionally paraphrasing, adds, “My line went for a walk and came back with 6,000 square feet of new work that has humor and a whole new, fresh attitude.”

A few years ago, Hewitt, who also buys and sells real estate with his wife, Kate Carey, purchased a former florist shop and greenhouse on a quiet residential block in the city’s Deering neighborhood. He spent three years renovating the space himself, turning it into a studio and showroom as well as a gallery-like home for other work. Here he turns his doodles, which range far and wide in
terms of subject matter, into light art—as in electrically illuminated art.

What started it all was a wall sculpture with which Hewitt was struggling. Something about it just wasn’t jelling until he hit upon the notion of making a red linear element in the piece out of neon. The artist’s eureka moment would, in time, birth an entirely new body of work distinctly different from the prints and paintings he creates at his other studio, on Pleasant Street on the peninsula.

In 2019 Hewitt received a commission from Speedwell Contemporary in Portland to create a work for the roof of their gallery building. The result is familiar to anyone who has driven along Forest Avenue at Woodfords Corner: a 28-foot marquee sign that reads “Hopeful” in colored letters and lightbulbs. Having Neokraft Signs fabricate the piece in Lewiston reconnected Hewitt with his childhood roots, from which he’d fled to become an artist in New York.

The year 2019 proved pivotal, recentering Hewitt’s priorities and inspiring a renewed perspective on his role as an artist. “It had a lot to do with being out of the New York–centric art-world thinking,” he explains. “I recaptured something here, of being an artist and communicating. I set out at 25 to be part of the art world. But at 77 years old, I’ve dropped into a new place that’s charged.” (The pun is unintended, but the Electric Greenhouse is—quite literally—charged, with light works glowing
from every window and casting multicolored shadows on every wall.)

Shortly after the Hopeful commission, Hewitt began experimenting with an emerging art form, NFTs (non-fungible tokens) and, eventually, with artificial intelligence (AI). He purchased a billboard on the Jersey side of the Lincoln Tunnel and projected some of his NFTs onto it, starting with Hopeful. That initial message landed him in the New York Times and begat a whole series of other Hopeful signs that now pepper seven states along the Eastern Seaboard, gracing multiple cities in each and
attracting many collectors.

A picture of Hopeful loomed large on a jumbotron at President Joe Biden’s inauguration in 2021. After the Lewiston shootings, locals posed in front of the Hopeful sign on the city’s Bates Mill #5 and spread the photos throughout social media. Janet Mills cited it in her 2023 inauguration speech after being reelected governor of Maine. “These signs became a symbol, not just of survival but of health, renewal, new life,” she said from the podium in Augusta. She continued, “The sign’s creator, Charlie Hewitt, said, ‘To be hopeful is not a gift; it is a challenge. To be hopeful requires opening your eyes. It requires making a decision, being part of something.’”

Hewitt drew from his doodles—scrawled on desk calendars, in sketchbooks, on random pieces of paper—for his NFTs, which are projected onto a television screen in his Electric Greenhouse. Since launching this body of work, he has expanded it through AI. After he draws and colors one of his doodles, Hewitt uploads it into an AI software program. “I input the parameters,” he explains, “terms like ‘Picasso woodcut,’ ‘Roy Lichtenstein,’ ‘Charlie Hewitt,’ ‘linocut.’ It’s my sense of aesthetics and my brain driving the program. Sometimes it surprises me and sends me in a totally different direction.”

This is, in fact, completely natural for Hewitt, who cannot stand still creatively. “I’ve always been dying to get to a new medium I’ve never done,” he says, speaking of the NFTs. Broadening the discussion to include the entirety of his light work and the freedom the Electric Greenhouse affords him to explore it, he adds, “I’m challenged by it. And it resonates with people on a level that has nothing to do with intellect, has nothing to do with the art world. I don’t feel trapped here by anything.”

The evidence of his feverish pursuit of new media is all around him at the Greenhouse. There are freestanding forged metal sculptures also inspired by shapes from his doodles (abstracted saws and hammers, for instance, that reference the carpentry work he did to support his New York art studies). There are light sculptures and NFTs. And there are terra cotta plates on which he has doodled, embossed, and printed imagery: a crown of thorns, dice, a robe, leaves, hands. He felt compelled to make the ceramics because, he says, “Being an artist today is such a secular profession. I’m a lapsed Catholic, but there’s a lot of information in those biblical stories. Jesus was a carpenter, which was something I resonated with. There’s a lot of shorthand iconography I can pull from there.”

None of these media and genres is an island, of course. “One form informs the other. The neon sculpture led to Lewiston and Neokraft, where Hopeful came from, which led to the NFTs, which led to AI.” One can hear in Hewitt’s enthusiasm the sense of liberation he is experiencing after over a half-century of being an artist. “It’s the first time in my whole life,” he says, “that I’m able to control my own
identity and my own narrative.”

The Electric Greenhouse has clearly turned the lights of Hewitt’s soul on full blast. The future is looking bright.

Open by appointment: [email protected].

“We have a longstanding love affair with Maine,” Mindi Poston Gay says. When she and her husband and business partner in MPG Home Design, Phineas Gay, first started dating back in 1999, Phin whisked her up north from Boston for a coastal adventure. “We went on a schooner in Camden Harbor, which turned out to be a test to see how I felt about Maine,” Mindi recalls, noting that her husband has deep roots in the state, while she hails from Miami. “It sealed the deal on both sides; I fell in love with Phin and Maine that weekend.”

The couple, who live in Newburyport, Massachusetts, with two sons, ages 17 and 19, rented a beach house in Lincolnville for years. The long-term plan was for Mindi, who is an architect and designer, and Phin, who runs the operations side of the firm, to build their own home there; it was just a matter of finding the right property. In 2015 they spotted a “for sale” sign while on a motorcycle ride, turned down the gravel road, and got to talking to the owner. Discovering they had much in common, including a deep respect for the land, the Gays purchased just under three-and-a-half acres from him along Penobscot Bay.

“That kinship translated to his comfort in splitting the land,” Phin says. “We assured him and his sister’s family, who are also neighbors, that our vision was for a minimalist design that would blend with nature; we would definitely not be building a McMansion.”

In 2016 the family built a 1,000-square-foot studio that Mindi designed. The shed roof structure has shou sugi ban siding, four glass garage doors, and an open interior. What it doesn’t have is plumbing. “It’s basically a heated garage with a portable sink, composting toilet, gas stove, and four cots we’d roll out,” Mindi shares. “We happily glamped there for several years.”

During that time, Mindi explored design concepts for the home. Seahaus, named for the pair’s mutual appreciation for the sea and for Bauhaus style, was completed in 2023. “It follows Bauhaus design principles: lack of ornamentation, form follows function, less is more,” Mindi ticks off. She also took cues from her Japanese heritage. “I am inspired by the wabi-sabi philosophy of imperfect beauty, things that are weathered and worn,” she says.

Shinrin-yoku is another Japanese influence. Translated as forest bathing, it’s essentially the practice of spending time in nature, appreciating its therapeutic benefits. This idea helped inform where the house is situated. “The structure is set back from the sea, connected via a meandering path through the trees, which allows time for reflection as you make your way to the water,” Mindi explains.

Architecturally, the home plays off the studio located beside it. The home is composed of two purposefully distinct primary forms: the bedroom wing with a shed roof that is the same pitch as the studio’s shed roof, plus the main living space: an open, barn-like form with a gabled roof. A small entry connector joins the two wings and offers a view of the ocean, while a mudroom component comes off the end by the studio.

The couple partnered with Todd Weeks, cofounder of High Seas Builders, to build the 2,100-square-foot home, which exceeds the state’s energy codes. “We sought to boost performance and reduce embodied carbon wherever budget and architectural intent allowed,” Weeks says. “The foundation, walls, and roof R-values are well in excess of code.” In addition, Maine-made triple-paned tilt-and-turn windows and lift-and-slide doors from Pinnacle Window Solutions allow for a greater air seal and a lower U-factor [the insulative value for windows] than double-hung or casement windows and traditional sliders. Weeks also points out that most of the wood used here was cut and milled in Maine. “We were excited about using so many local materials,” he says.

The team also charred the eastern white cedar planks for shou sugi ban details around some of the windows and doors on the exterior. “We lash together three boards with wire to create triangular chimneys and hold them vertically over the fire; the shape draws the fire up,” Weeks says. “We turn them for a few minutes for an even burn, then release the wire, use a brush and water to extinguish the fire and clean the boards, and finally, apply an oil finish.”

There are rustic wood accents inside too; namely, the hemlock ceiling in the airy living space, which reaches 18 feet high at the ridgeline. The knotty planks add instant coziness and are more cost effective than a drywall ceiling. Plaster walls and a polished, poured concrete floor up the earthy ambiance. “We kept the interior pure, without ornamentation or fussiness,” Mindi says. “The focus is on the beauty of nature right outside.” Indeed, a pair of 12-foot-wide sliders maximizes views to the forest and ocean and provides easy access to the wraparound deck.

On one end of the room, a Stûv woodstove perches on a simple concrete bench where logs nestle underneath. A mash-up of vintage midcentury chairs—a Mies van der Rohe Barcelona loveseat, two slouchy Togo chairs, and a black bentwood chair with black and white cushions—encourage gathering. “Choosing where to sit is like a game of musical chairs!” Mindi says.

For privacy and television, folks can duck into the media room behind the curtains, where a painting of a very sad clown hangs over a scrumptious sectional. “It’s from my childhood home, and yes, I was afraid of it,” Phin laughs. “Now we joke that it’s the feeling we get when we leave Seahaus: a big frown.”

An 11-foot-long live-edge table of the couple’s own creation is the centerpiece of the dining area. The Gays plucked the chrome conference table base from an industrial park dumpster, then asked a friend to source a reclaimed pine top. “We had to drive home to get a larger car to transport it,” Mindi recalls. “I designed the layout of the sliders around this table.”

Self-described foodies who like to cook, the couple opted for industrial elements juxtaposed with warm wood in the kitchen. Commercial-style appliances and stainless-steel counters on partially open white oak cabinetry line the perimeter. In the center, an extra-wide sink graces a black-stained island with a chunky, red elm countertop. “We requested red elm for its brilliant coloration,” Phin says. The cabinetmaker, Weeks’s college roommate Jacob Perkins, butterflied three boards with Nakashima-style joinery.

On the other end of the home, the boys’/guest bedroom boasts a birch sleep loft above a queen bed, and a hemlock ceiling. Pine planks cocoon the primary bedroom, where a built-in wardrobe with oak and leather handles runs along one wall for storage. Above the bed, a paper lantern glows like the full moon at night, imparting a Japanese sensibility.

In the primary bath, the team whitewashed leftover cedar siding for the surround. The area is modeled on ideas from Japanese bathing culture. “A soaking tub by an oversized window where we can experience the smell and sounds of the ocean while bathing was very important,” says Mindi, who brings seaweed indoors for her baths. “Seeing the steam rise on a snowy day reminds me of being in Japan.”

Several years ago, a couple living in California started to think about where they wanted to raise a family. The wife had grown up in Stonington, and after seven years on the West Coast, “I started feeling more like I wanted to go home,” she says. “My whole family is still up and down the coast of Maine.” The couple started browsing Maine real estate, looking for somewhere that might feel something like the small island community of the wife’s youth while being within commuting distance of a city where they could pursue their medical careers (one is a pediatric hospitalist, and the other practices family medicine). They found a property on Yarmouth’s Cornfield Point, with water views from every angle and a house that, while not quite what they were seeking, seemed like it could be made to fit them. “A lot of homes on the water are these gigantic, formal homes that just don’t appeal to us,” says the wife. “Here, it feels spacious but cozy. We have plenty of room, but it doesn’t feel like we’re in a huge, vast home with unused spaces.”

From the beginning, the couple planned on renovating before occupying the home. The previous owners were an older couple who had used it as a summer residence, and the new owners wanted a year-round home that would suit a young family. They also wanted to open up the floor plan and add dormers to bring in more of the stunning Casco Bay views that surround the property. While they remained in San Diego, they engaged interior designer Samantha Pappas of Samantha S. Pappas Design, not only to create the light-filled home of their dreams, but also to act as their boots on the ground in Maine. “With them being out of town, I ended up being their go-to person,” says Pappas. “I was there to be their face, to meet with people on-site, and to make sure that our vision for the home was being achieved.” She worked with the couple to assemble the renovation team, led by architect Kevin Browne of Kevin Browne Architecture and builder Matt Cotnoir of MasterCraft Carpentry. “Samantha was able to connect us with everybody,” says the husband. “She was such a great coordinator and resource.”

The original design of the home, built in the 1990s, “was like two or three Capes put together,” says Browne. “There’s the main Cape, a side Cape, and a Cape for the garage.” That meant limited fenestration in the upstairs rooms, which had been barely used by the original owners. The couple planned to move the owners’ suite from the first floor to the second and wanted to make use of unfinished space above the garage as well as improve the flow of the bedrooms. To take advantage
of the water views, the team replaced most of the existing roof, creating a series of dormers around the house as well as adding windows on the first floor. “Once they cut the window openings, it just made you feel a lot more connected to where you are on the property, with all the views around you,” recalls Browne. “There was the biggest ‘wow’ factor.”

Another design challenge was the prominence of the garage, which faces the driveway and is the first thing you see upon arrival. “You would drive in, and just see two garage doors,” says Browne. “We made a prominent covered walkway, so you are drawn to the front door. It’s a nicer approach.” The warm reddish brown of Douglas fir posts and rafters contrasts with the home’s pale shingles, helping to draw the eye away from the garage and toward the entrance. On the other side of the home, a full-length deck was replaced with a smaller, lower one ringed by cascading stairs, which made room for a patio and eliminated the need for railings. Lowering the deck also meant that its furniture wouldn’t get in the way of the view from the downstairs windows.

The first floor was reconfigured to create an easy, open flow for family life. A generous entryway was added, and space that had held a powder room and closet became a mudroom with plenty of room for coats and shoes. (A new powder room was created with space borrowed from the garage.) The kitchen is now divided from the living area by a cabinet structure that includes an appliance garage and pantry space. The arrangement creates easy access to cooking supplies but also allows them to be easily hidden. “I’m pretty type A,” says the wife. “I wanted it to be organized, and to be able to hide the kitchen mess.” Another goal was to avoid upper cabinets to keep the look “open and light,” says the wife; there is plenty of storage in the central island and under the counters. The kitchen is open to the dining area, which takes full advantage of the ocean view. On the other side of the kitchen cabinet is a wood-burning fireplace that anchors the living room, which flows right into a second seating area that has become a toddler play space. “I love that they use this as a little play area for kids,” says Pappas. “We didn’t plan it that way, but it’s perfect. You can clean the concrete coffee table with a Magic Eraser, and it looks brand-new.”

The years the couple spent in California together had some influence on the style they envisioned for the home’s interior. “Parts of the California aesthetic are whitewashed, really neutral. I’m drawn to some of that,” says the wife. “I also think that, with Samantha’s eye, it helped make it not too boring or monotone.” “They wanted it to be relaxed and livable, not formal and stuffy,” says Pappas. “They like a lot of neutrals, bringing interest in more with textures as opposed to pops of color. I like to throw pops of color and pattern in, so it was a fine balance of getting interest in there in a neutral way.” A palette of whites, off-whites, and natural woods keeps the home bright and serene, with coastal blues as accents. Pappas encouraged the incorporation of bold wallpapers in the powder room and some of the bedrooms. “She did a good job of pushing us out of our comfort zone,” says the husband. The wife agrees. “I would say, is it too bold? I’m always worried, am I going to get sick of that? It was helpful to have her guidance on what will work long-term.”

With a fresh floor plan and timeless, neutral decor, the home is ready for many years of family life. The views are no longer shut out; as the seasons change, the moods of the ocean flow through every room. There are cozy spots for toddler play and parent relaxation, and breezy spaces for entertaining when the whole family visits. “It just feels like us,” says the wife. “It feels like our home.”