Saturday, July 5, 2008

As Simon Jacobsen walked through his father's rowhouse in Georgetown, he talked about how the typical modern home tends to be a showplace for the art, books and other objects that people treasure.

But that doesn't mean that such a home can't handle kids.

"A home has to survive, like families and children," Jacobsen said. "Otherwise, it's a dumb house. Homes should be designed to transform from art spaces to entertainment spaces to living spaces. People should keep that in mind when they're looking for a place."

Jacobsen's family moved into the rowhouse in 1968, when he was a toddler. His father, Hugh Newell Jacobsen, widely regarded as the dean of modern architects in Washington, had originally designed the home for a client. He gutted the existing 1860s Italianate rowhouse, cleared the chicken coops next door and expanded the home onto the next lot.

Modernism was new to Georgetown then. The grand windows and glass doors in the library and living room were probably the largest pieces of glass in a home there at the time. The doors inside, which practically rise to the ceiling, have no headers, a purely modern trait. And although the house "looks like a birthday cake from the outside," Simon Jacobsen said, there are no crown moldings or trimmings inside.

To get a house to look this sparse took a lot of work because it demanded attention to detail, said Jacobsen, who now runs his father's firm. But the clients were taken aback.

"They were surprised by the house," Jacobsen said. "They didn't want it, and they abruptly put it on the market."

So Hugh Jacobsen bought it and has lived there ever since with his wife, Robin.

"Growing up here, I helped dispel the myth that these houses can't handle children," Jacobsen said. "I grew up here with two gorilla-sized brothers, and we were constantly fighting."

The house was never kid-friendly. There were Ludwig Mies van der Rohe tables with sharp corner edges and heavy art pieces. But it was "kid-sustainable," Jacobsen said.

The home's many closets were built in and flush with the wall, yet they were tall and deep, large enough to hold toys and kids' gear. In keeping with modernism's minimalist tradition, stuff was not strewn all over the house but compartmentalized.

And while some may scoff, Jacobsen said that the white walls and cream furniture were not a problem. "I think lighter-colored houses are cleaner because you can see the dirt and clean it up."

Jacobsen bought a rowhouse across the street from his parents in 1994 and expanded it after buying the next-door neighbor's rowhouse. He moved into the new space six months ago with his wife, Ruth, and his two children, ages 6 and 16 months. The design is even more militant than his father's.

"The open spaces are blatantly open," he said. "It's designed for entertaining and for riding Big Wheels."