We used a 3D modeling program to render different designs, after a somewhat lengthy design session with Donna. She is a designer herself with a strong aesthetic sense and some definite ideas about what works for her and what doesn’t. She has excellent taste, her house is exquisite, and her designs are well-executed down to the very last detail. Even though I’m an artist myself, I consider it my job to listen to the needs of my clients and bring their vision to life. I will certainly offer up my opinion, but I don’t push my own agenda. I followed Donna’s lead and was able to help her realize the railing design that she had in her head.

We opted for 1 ¼” round verticals, 1” high by 2” wide top rail, and 1/8” cable. Normally we set the height at 36”, but Donna wanted to be able to easily lean on the railings, so the height was set at 42”, with a railing height of 36” going up the stairs so to meet NYS code without a secondary handrail. The verticals were sunken into the rim joist (sometimes called a band joist: http://www.bestdecksite.com/introPlanPg1.htm) so that there were no visible fasteners, and in order to do this the rim joist and the stair stringers needed to be doubled up. The finish was brushed, and the cables that we used for the railing showed no hardware.

One of the problems we had was how to get a hole into the deck that would be perfectly square to the deck from every angle. Since the hole we were drilling for the 1 1/4” post was exactly the size of the post, there was no opportunity to shim it into level. We took an old drill press and adapted it to be able to use it on site to drill the holes by removing the drill press table, and altering the base. We moved it from hole to hole, a laborious process considering it weighed over 100lbs. There were over 70 holes to drill, making it a two-person, two-step process. First we drilled through the mahogany decking with a forstner bit, and then we drilled down into the framing with a nail-eating bit, with one person to place and steady the drill press and one person to drill and change the bits. Needless to say after a whole day of carrying the drill press to and fro, I had no problem skipping my daily workouts.

The entire drilling process lasted 4 long days. The August sun was in its full glory, and my fair-skinned co-worker John was looking rather lobster-like after a few days. Donna kept us hydrated and happy with an assortment of delightful icy confections.  The design was well executed and exceeded all of her expectations—it was light and clean, playing a superlative roll as supporting cast to the gorgeous view of the bay in Amagansett. (See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amagansett,_New_York)

The goal was to make large birds loosely modeled after magpies that would be mounted on the roof of her Woodstock estate. As with almost all art work, there is the issue of proportion—whether you are intentionally changing it for visual impact as in the case of Cubism or trying to get it exact as in Realism. This has nothing to do with overall size, rather how the proportions within the piece relate to one another. Since I wasn’t going for the large head/small body look with this project, I took the proportions from a real magpie. In this case I used a photo, but the real thing is always the best. Figuring out proportions is really nothing more than setting a scale to the photo or actual piece. For instance, if the bird has a 6” body and a 2” head, those proportions would stay the same no matter how large it gets—12 to 4, 18 to 6—you would assign a relative number to each part of the bird: beak length and circumference, head, eyes, body, legs and so on.

Now when I say large, I mean it. The largest bird was almost 7’ from beak to tail. This created some structural issues right off the bat. Since birds have really small legs in proportion to their bodies, this created an engineering problem: how could I keep the scale and proportion correct while making sure that the birds would be structurally strong enough to withstand the wind in a mountain environment? I solved the problem by building the feet and legs around a structural stainless steel frame that went from two bolting points in the bottom of the feet up through the legs, then continuing into the head and out to the tail; this created a perfect sub-structure for me to start building my bird armature. An armature is basically a wire frame that is the shape of what you’re sculpting; it’s kind of a 3d sketch. I made the armature out of different diameters of bronze welding rod by fusing it together with a tig welder. (Have a look at the theatrical you tube experience of “Happy Guy Welds”—actually this is what most welders look, like, but he could have hammed it up a bit for the camera.) I made the legs as strong as they could be while only taking small liberties with their proportions. I made them a bit bigger than they would be in real life, but since there haven’t been too many birds of this size since the Jurassic period I thought I could pull it off. The body had to be as light as possible. This was accomplished by making the feathers out of a really light gauge bronze. To make each one different, I cut them out free hand with the plasma cutter and embossed a feather pattern on each one with a crude homemade tool and a rubber hammer. You don’t know the true meaning of the word monotony until you cut and emboss thousands of feathers for weeks and subsequently weld each feather in place for another few weeks. This is a prime example of multiple Zen-like tasks being performed for the greater good of the hive—or in this case: the bird.

The finish is what I would refer to as a “process patina” meaning that the cutting, shaping, and welding created the patina. It’s a very organic way to approach patination; the birds have been allowed to continue to oxidize on their own accord.

The installation of the legendary large bird had to be done with the utmost caution and precision. Since the roof needed to be pierced, care had to be taken to assure that there were no leaks. As far as Zeus is concerned, the birds are nothing more than a target to throw lighting at, so they needed to be grounded. Here is a fun little link about lightning and mythology: http://www.2dog.com/cat/pg2.html.  Although the birds weren’t heavy for their size, they were quite cumbersome. Since they were mounted on the ridge of a roof with a 12 on 12 pitch, I decided to rent an Extenda Boom to facilitate the procedure. The mounts extending out of the feet went through the ridge cap and fastened to the ridge beam. It was hot outside, and inside the attic it was ridiculously hot—oh the sacrifices we make for art; I’m sure I lost 20 lbs and became quite ripe in the process.

Well there you have it—the tale of the large bronze birds. Thank you Kathy!

We had already done some exposed metal brackets for the rough hewn beams featured throughout the house, and the next project for us to tackle was a set of glass doors for the fireplace. From a design standpoint the doors added a modern element to the organic fireplace, as well as keeping the sparks and an occasional rolling log in the fireplace where they belong. They also helped to keep the house heat from escaping up the flue when the fireplace wasn’t in use.

Because of their draft, most fireplaces actually pull more heat out of the room than they add; while they are beautiful, from an ecological standpoint they are horribly inefficient. When not in use they can create a cold draft if they are not properly sealed, and air infiltration is one of the major culprits in an inefficient home. One energy efficient exception to the beautiful, but inefficient fireplace is the Rumford design.  It’s tall and shallow, so it throws more heat into the room than it removes. The design of the fire box and flue is very specific, and should only be built by a mason specializing in Rumford design. In my neck of the woods, that person is Russ McShea—an old school eccentric with a handlebar mustache who re-wrote NYS code for Rumford design. Russ loves Rumford fireplaces. He doesn’t seem to have a website, foiling my linking potential, but like I said—he is an old school eccentric. Here is his contact info:

Russell McShea Chimney
501 Manorville Rd.
Saugerties, NY 12477
518/678-3294

The Bialecki fireplace opening was roughly 7’w x 3’h, and the doors were divided up into four equal-sized panels with the two in the center opening to allow access to the fire box. When you are building doors of any type, the major hurdle is to keep them from racking and to keep them square. Since there were four panels with a 1/8” gap around the doors, this was a little tricky. The problem with building something in metal—especially stainless steel—is that when you heat it to weld it together, the heat causes expansion and contraction, which tends to leave you with something a little less than square when it cools. We solved that problem by making sure it couldn’t move as it was being welded. In this case, John built a jig that would hold the frame perfectly square while he was welding it. We tacked the piece together and then weld it in small increments, allowing each weld to cool while we moved on to a different part on the piece.

When it comes to hardware, the more custom the piece, the less likely you’ll find exactly what you need; it seems I’ll find something close, but not exactly right. This job was no exception; we used a standard cabinet door latch for the guts, but made our own knob and mounting system.

The installation was straightforward and overall fairly painless—well kind of. I did have to spend three hours grinding down high spots and squaring up the fireplace opening to insure the best possible fit. Anyway, no pain no gain, right?

If you find yourself in need of a NY architect, Matt Bialecki is quite creative.

I will usually take on one or two projects a year where we do the whole project from soup to nuts.  That would include the interior design, as well as the carpentry and metal work. I worked for years in the building trades doing everything from framing to finish work and still get an occasional hankering to do some fine woodworking; it’s also a nice change of scenery from the studio. Josh’s apartment was about 800 square feet, and it needed a makeover badly. Oddly enough the kitchen and bathroom were recently re-modeled, and while they weren’t exactly what we might have done, it wasn’t in the budget to tear them apart.

The budget kept expanding—due in no part to yours truly—as we went along. Josh kept finding more things he wanted to do, so what I thought would be a 4 to 5 week job expanded into 3 months. The design changes included opening up the second floor bedroom to overlook the living room, changing the doors to pocket doors wherever it was possible, making a window seat looking out on to 72^nd Street and a “loft chair” addition to an already existing loft that was open to the living area. Josh is an ER doctor, and it seemed he was looking to create as many womb-like hang out areas as possible, maybe to help counter the stresses of late nights in the ER? By the way Josh looks nothing like George Clooney; I do hear he can cut a rug like Frankie Manning though. Also included in the design changes was upgrading the electrical fixtures, installing new flooring and baseboard, repainting the whole apartment, creating some new storage areas, making a custom audio/video cabinet, as well as running a plethora of A/V cables. Josh’s brother is a bit of a techy and was advising him—or confusing him, I’m still not sure which—about what types of cables to run in the walls. Needless to say we ended up with a lot of extra cables both in the wall and in a box, so if you know anybody who needs a 45’ HDMI cable, call Josh. There was a point where I thought the best use for the cables would be to tie him up and put him out of his misery.

Once we started the demolition, we realized just how poorly some of the original work was constructed, making the task of leaving the details of the original apartment that we were hoping to salvage that much more difficult; things were literally falling apart that we were hoping to keep. Unless your job is large enough to have a garbage shoot attached to a window funneling into a dumpster bellow, the task of garbage removal is a !@*#!* pain in the derriere. You have to cut, crush, pummel, and break everything into bite-size pieces suitable to fit into contractor bags. The hallways of the building need runners put down, the elevator needs elevator pads, it’s illegal to put construction debris on the sidewalk for garbage removal (you can sneak in a few bags here and there), it’s illegal to remove it from the city in your own truck (I did it anyway), it’s illegal to park your truck just about anywhere for any length of time (I took the commercial plates of my truck which makes overnight parking possible, but creates a whole other set of problems)—basically anything that is easy where I live becomes something so painful that you have to ask yourself, why am I doing this?

Once we had the demolition done, the materials needed to be gotten onsite which is a logistical nightmare, given that there is no place to store them in an 800 square feet apartment. So unless your client’s neighbor doesn’t mind storing 500 square feet of flooring in their apartment, basically you need to bring in materials as you need them. If you don’t have enough materials to warrant removing a window, closing off the sidewalk, and getting a lift truck, you’re stuck trying to bring them in through the elevator or up the stairs. If it’s a building with a door man and porter, tip them well in addition to the super and anyone else that has the power to make you suffer; cash can buy friends.

In this particular building, the elevator was about 4’ x 5’ by about 90” H. There was no freight elevator, and the stairs were ridiculously cramped. We opted for the stairs to carry in the materials since nothing fit in the elevator, which meant I had to cut anything that measured 4’ x 8’, which is an industry standard, down to 4’ x 7’ in the basement (I made fast friends with the porter) so it would fit up the stairs. We needed a 10’ ladder to reach the top of the 13’ ceilings and had to drag it up the side of the building with ropes (luckily the apartment was only on the second floor), along with the baseboard and anything else that was longer than 9’. The best time to attempt this parlor trick was at 2:00 AM when the streets were quiet and there was the least possibility of dropping something on someone’s head.

Installing pocket doors from a construction standpoint is no big deal. It takes some time to make it look nice, but it’s not rocket science. However the door needs a place to be able to slide into, and since most electricians locate a switch on one side of the door (rightfully so), there is a 50% chance that electric will need to be moved—take into consideration Murphy’s law, and the chances rise to 100% that the electric is located on the side that you need to slide the door into. We did the doors trim-less with a half arch on top that created a neat-o guillotine effect as the door closes.

Creating the opening in the upstairs bedroom that allowed you to overlook the living area and interior windows to let light into a dark lower level bedroom found us needing to move more electric, as well as studs.

The doors and hardware for what came to be known as the focal wall were made in the studio from copper and stainless steel. The metals were grained, and the copper was lacquered and buffed to a mirror-like finish to keep it from oxidizing.

Since the windows were facing northwest, I suggested that we use maple for the flooring, to help keep the apartment as light as possible and to buck the trend of dark floors and dark furniture currently rampant in modern interiors. I designed the baseboard specifically for the apartment and had it made at Spiegel Woodworking, a local woodshop that does custom mill working.

The stairs had two engaged stringers (engaged stringers encompass the treads as opposed to supporting them from underneath). In this case, I designed the stringers to be as light as possible, modeling them on a Warren truss. We used 8/4 maple for the stair treads as well as the handrail. All the bends were done in stainless steel.

The loft ladder was designed to match the stairs, based on the Warren truss with the 8/4 maple for the steps and the handrail. We wanted the ladder to be comfortable for everyday use, which meant that it couldn’t be too steep. The problem is that this creates a certain amount of dead space under the ladder. In a bout of creative genius, I had the groundbreaking epiphany that building an integrated shelving unit into the ladder would create a unique space to showcase some of Josh’s artwork.

With the help of my friend, Chris Bernard at Metal Works Limited, we did some additional metal work in copper to tie in with the focal wall doors by the window seat and entertainment area. Chris has an incredibly clean sheet metal shop that’s actually kind of scary. He is a gifted technician with sheet metal and has a passion for Ducatis and sports cars. Chris loves to go fast. He also has a machine that makes louvers like you might see on the hood of a race car and was kind enough to use this machine to make our copper radiator cover.

We used a programmable light switch system that allows you to be able to create lighting scenes and bring them up with the touch of a button. Possible lighting scenarios could include: the first date; my apartment is messy, and I don’t want to see the mess; I slept all day and have a hangover. It’s lighting for all occasions at the touch of a button. This was a perfect example of me learning something from my clients, because my first reaction was: why do you need to remote control your light switches when they are never more than 15 feet away? Call me old fashion, but I’m used to actually having to walk to a light switch and create my own scene. Anyway it’s quite cool, easy to do, and a must have for any 21^st century home.

With the renovation coming to an end it was time to start looking for light fixtures; under certain circumstances I might have made them, but we found some at Gracious Home located at 67th and Broadway that worked quite nicely. Gracious Home also has a great selection of hardware so we were able to find most of our door knobs, towel bars, etc. etc there; it made for one-stop shopping which was quite convenient, as well as having a friendly and helpful staff.

We used as much of Josh’s existing furniture as possible, but we were in need of some key pieces. Finally we were getting to go furniture shopping! I love looking at furniture! We settled on a grey-blue Mitchell Gold sectional to compliment the brown earth tones in the apartment. Josh picked out a very space-friendly bed from FLOU. Last but not least, we took a trip to Harry Zarin’sto find upholstery fabric for throw pillows—this place has an amazing selection of fabrics. I used my longtime friends Alfie and Suzy Darrow to make the pillows; Alfie is an excellent upholsterer and Suzy is an incredible seamstress.

This was a great job, and I made a good friend in the process. What more could you ask for?

When I arrived on site they had just finished the foundation. There wasn’t anywhere near a complete set of plans at that point in time. Tom had general ideas, but was designing as they went, so I took what measurements I could and prayed. Tom described the feeling he wanted for the railings as “water-like” undulating with spirals. He showed me a picture of a gate by a European artist who used the idea of the reverse twist. Tom was a good art director and had pretty much given me everything I needed to incorporate in the design; as someone who has spent all of my adult life doing commissioned art work, I find it helps a great deal if the client has some strong ideas of what the overall direction is—unless of course they have no ideas and want you to come up with the design.  I did some preliminary drawings and pretty much hit the nail on the head. I often think of my clients as teachers giving out an assignment; the commission is designed around certain criteria, and I find that my clients often add to my artistic palette with  things that they like, some of which I might never have noticed or thought to do myself. In the case of interior design, I think things flow better if you start working with your designer de Jour before you start your renovations and certainly before you make any purchases regarding your décor. It can be difficult when your designer has to incorporate something that really doesn’t work well, that you’ve already committed to. I worked on a job once where the carpeting was the bane of the designer’s existence. The client purchased the carpet right before hiring the designer, spent a lot of money on it, and wouldn’t replace it—so she had to design around it. I can’t say that I didn’t commiserate with her.

After we had nailed down what the design would be, I had to do the drawings for all the areas of the house that called for railings. There were three large balconies, quite a bit of straight railing, and stairs. (When you are building anything for the first time, it helps to build the job in your head at least 1000 times at 3am.) To get the reverse twist, the bottom part of each balustrade needed to be flipped so that when it was twisted, it laid out to what it looked like in the drawing. If you care to, have to look at the pictures; it may be impossible to envision without some reference. Making it slightly more challenging was the fact that Tom wanted the twist to follow the silhouette of the top of the mountain range visible in the distance, when viewed standing at a certain vantage point.

As I was designing, I made sure that the drawing was in scale so that when it came time to start cutting out the railing components, I was able to take the drawings, copy them onto a transparency, and blow them up to full size with my overhead projector. All the pieces were given a number so I could figure out where they went after they were cut out.

I used a plasma cutter to cut them out of 10 gauge material (around 1.8” thick). I left each piece long by about 6” so that I would be able to adjust the layout as needed; I trimmed them after I laid them out where I wanted them, on the top and bottom rails. I’m kind of putting myself to sleep here, but I’m going to push on—life can’t be all light, witty banter you know. I did the twist hot with a rosebud tip on my torch. Once I had the formula down, the job moved along quite nicely, which was a good thing due to the volume of railing. The railing was supposed to be finished to look like weathered bronze. What made this more difficult than your average faux finish was that it was being painted with two-part epoxy paint manufactured by Sherwin Williams. Epoxy paints need to be mixed to the letter of the law; they have what is called a set in or induction time. Basically, the paint needs to sit after it’s mixed for a certain length of time before you use it. I found this out the hard way after waiting for the paint to dry for a week and a half; I finally gave up and paid my friend Superior Leon from Superior Sandblasting to blast it off so I could do a second take. It pays to read the directions before you use the product. The railings were painted with a bronze-like brown, then top-coated with multiple transparent coats of various blue/greens. I found the paint could be thinned quite a bit and not affect its ability to dry.

When it came time to put the railings in place, it was done with a crane. It’s a little unnerving to have a tremendous amount of time and money in something, and an audience of two dozen contractors watching to see if it fits. Everything worked out nicely—one of the benefits of measuring 500 times until you know you’ve got it right.

It was fun to be part of such a large art project. For more pictures of the house, check out Tom’s site http://www.tomgottsleben.com/spiralhouse/spiralhouse.asp.

While searching for designers and fabricators that build contemporary railings, Eric came across a job we had done for Catherine Gerry Interiors on the Hudson River, and voila! That design was very similar to what he was imagining. (I’d typed in “wa-lah” and got curious about the spelling…did a little research and found it’s spelled “voila.” I’m a poor speller, and I don’t speak French. What’s more, I grew up on Staten Island where it definitely sounds like “wa-lah,” however it’s most definitely “voila.” Voila!)

Eric  thought we would be a good fit. Eager to get the job done, we moved quickly from discussing possible materials and design ideas to seeing what they would look like through the aid of my friend Google SketchUp, a powerful 3d design program that has become an indispensable tool allowing me to actually show my clients what their job is going to look like from multiple angles. We settled on 3” square stainless tubing for the verticals, 5/16” stainless steel round rods for the horizontals, both with a grained finish, and a 1 1/2” x 1 ¾” high oak hand rail stained to match their floor. Part of the design was to have the 3” x 3” post at the top and bottom of the stairs, but to suspend the horizontal rods from the handrail and eliminate the need for any intermediary posting. Eric didn’t want to see any of the fasteners so we hid them. How you might ask? Ancient Chinese secret!

It’s nice to be able to bring someone’s vision to life. Seeing your clients happy and feeling excited with the way the job turned out has got to be one of the best feelings. It was a pleasure to work for Eric and Rachel.

The first goal was to remove a wall that would block the open design of the new staircase. This came with its own set of challenges because it was load bearing wall and was hiding duct work, as well as housing a fair amount of electrical wiring. Once we sistered up the floor joists to be able to carry the new load and re-routed the duct and electric work, we were able to concentrate on the finish work, that which is for most carpenters the more enjoyable part of the job.

Marc wanted to put a solid black walnut floor down; the problem being that the floor was concrete, on- or slightly below grade. Due to moisture concerns, most people use an engineered floor. We solved the problem by sealing the floor with a sealant which put down a vapor barrier and floating subfloor consisting of two layers of plywood. Since we were covering the whole downstairs with the walnut, raising the floor height wasn’t a concern.

The staircase is wider than most at a full 48”. The treads are 12/4 walnut (wood thickness is measured in 1/4”s, so 12/4 is 3” thick before dressing—that is, planing and sanding). It’s an old school way of measuring, but hey—the rest of the world uses the metric system and we use US standard. I got curious; I think that system of measuring might have to do with the international ¼” log rule used in the logging industry.

Anyway, I drew out a few stringer designs for Marc. We both love the Deco period and decided the stairs would have a Deco flair. The stringers are what actually holds up the stair treads; this staircase ended up having two stringers located underneath the treads. We used a half round circle to support the treads. The stringer material is 5 x ¾” 304 stainless that has a brushed finish. (We use 304 for its weldability—it’s easy to weld.) The tread supports are a high polish. When I was making jewelry, I would often use these two finishes together and have continued using them in my architectural and sculptural work. The graining and polishing of metal is a laborious task fit for monks; it can be sped up by the aid of a machine called a timesaver.

The handrails are walnut with all the bends done in stainless steel. I made a jig on my table saw that would allow me to turn the walnut dowels down at the end, so they would fit into the stainless bends.  (A jig is a tool often made by the craftsman that allows doing a repetitive task in a more efficient manor.) The bends were given a grained finish—often referred to as a #4 polish (although what grit sandpaper you use for your #4 polish seems to be open to interpretation. Some people end on a 220 grit sand paper; others take it up to 340 grit. The finer the grit, the closer it comes to a polished finish. I myself prefer to stop at 180 grit for a slightly more pronounced grain.

Marc wanted to do lit glass panels, so we needed a way to suspend the panels and hide the LEDs without involving the handrail in the fastening system. (Most commercially available systems hide the LEDs in a handrail-like tube that won’t meet NYS codel, so it requires the addition of a handrail that does. I set about the task of designing a mounting system that would allow us to: 1) suspend the glass panels and run them up the stairs, 2) hide the LEDs and the wires, and 3) allow us to be able to install the glass after the rest of the handrail was installed. And last but not least, it had to fit with our overall design concept. I figured out how I was going to do the job with commercially available stock. I can’t tell you how many plans I get that specify materials in sizes that don’t exist. With the aid of my 1960s milling machine, I set out to fabricate our glass panel suspension system.

I won’t bore you with the details; I can already feel myself starting to glaze over. Let’s just say it worked beautifully and allow the pictures speak for themselves. The railing itself was designed to have no visible fasteners. The posts were drifted through the treads with the mounts positioned underneath the treads. Everything was precisely fit without a weld showing anywhere. This left no room for error; everything had to be perfect—it probably led to a couple of sleepless nights.

The last task was to design the pattern for the glass, which was a team effort between me, marc, and Randy Mardrus (if you want sandblasted glass of any type, Randy is your guy! He is a consummate artist and an excellent craftsman). The overall project contained the key elements that keep me interested: I enjoyed the clients, there was an engineering challenge, and a design that added to my artistic pallet. The stairs came out beautifully, and the client was happy. My thanks to Marc and Helene!

I had wanted to build a staircase in which the stairs appear to be floating off the wall for some time. Getting to do it in a house that was being built using green materials and designed to be a zero-net energy home was a dream come true. Currently there seem to be two schools of thought when it comes to Modern or Contemporary staircases. There are some that want to see structure, while others would like to have the stairs appear to be floating in the air. The stringer-less staircase falls into the latter—although it’s not really stringer-less, as the stringer or structure is for the most part buried in the wall and hidden to all of us except those who possess x-ray vision.

It works like this: the stringer, which amounts to nothing much more than a big piece of plate steel, is buried in the wall. The studs in the wall are either replaced by structural steel studs or, in the case of wood studs, sistered with structural steel. (There’s that “sistering” term again; it has nothing to do with mentoring young women in their formative years and everything to do with gluing, bolting, or screwing a piece of metal or wood to another piece of metal or wood to make it stronger.) The steps (or treads) are supported by outriggers that are attached to the stringer buried in the wall. The outriggers can either be hidden by the treads or, as in this staircase, shown as a design detail. (Let it be noted for the record that there are other ways of attaching the treads depending on the material.) At this point the wall is sheetrocked, and what you see are the outriggers sticking out of the wall, laid out to the rise and the run required to have the stairs start in the right place and end in the right place. In Dave and Mary’s house, the treads are 5/4 red oak (left natural). I cut two dados in the bottom of each tread that the outriggers would slip into and used epoxy to secure the steps in place.

The handrail was done in 1” x 2” rectangle tubing, and the verticals are 1” x 1” with grain-finished rods that are 5/16” round. For anyone who has not installed a handrail with half a dozen contractors running up and down the stairs—you’re missing out on one of life’s true pleasures. The clients were thrilled; it was brought in on time and within budget—another fabulous job done by your staircase professionals at Steve Morris Designs. A warm thank you to Dave and Mary!

Design and fabrication of what, you might ask? The topics will include the design and construction of everything from gates to lighting, furniture, and modern staircases. You might even get a little something on jewelry and woodworking. First some history: I’ve been building something since I was little kid—bicycles, fairly elaborate forts, tree houses, and models—just about anything a kid could find to put together. As an early teen I spent quite a bit of time rearranging, lighting, and decorating my room. At 16 I left school and started working for a jeweler. I picked it up fast, and we started a business together, thus beginning my figure-it-out-as-I-go-along journey. The artwork came easily. Managing people and running a business—well, I’m still figuring that out. I made jewelry for 10 years and still do on occasion. I spent some time working on building houses and eventually settled on architectural details, mostly in metal.

Basically, Steve Morris Designs offers one-stop shopping. We do architectural design, as well as interior design. We offer 3D design and illustration, 2-dimensional CAD drawings, and engineering services. We are capable of designing your restaurant, your upstate home, or your city apartment, including the fabrication and installation of what we design. We mostly work in metals including stainless steel, copper, bronze, iron, and aluminum. Occasionally, wood, glass, and other media are worked into our designs, and we do have experienced carpenters in our employ who can take on a whole project involving woodwork.

Stairs are a necessary addition to houses that have more than one level; they can also be a beautiful and exciting architectural detail. Over the years, we have built stairs with central stringers, engaged stringers, stringer-less, and spirals. We’ve incorporated glass, walnut, maple, and bamboo, as well as various other hardwoods and stone for the tread material.  As you can see in various photos on the site, Steve Morris Designs has done railings out of glass and Panelite, some with 3-form panels, floating corners, and wood and metal handrails in stainless, bronze, and steel. When painting is part of the design, we use a paint that requires a catalyst, ensuring a durable finish that will stand the test of time. We have a patina artist in house and offer some hard-to-find finishes on iron and bronze. We work directly with home owners, as well as interior designers, architects, and restaurateurs.