" EVERY PROFESSION has its significant perk. Stock options, travel, benefits, personal satisfaction or - in some cases - wealth, fame and a ticket-to-ride. In the case of Asa Sandlund and Preston Singletary, the perk is art:
Gallery-worthy blown glass of their own design, influenced by their respective Swedish and Tlingit Native American backgrounds. Glass from artist friends whose names - names such as Pino Signoretto, Lino Tagliapietra, Dante Marioni, Benjamin Moore and Dan Dailey - resonate with collectors. Paintings from artists living in Sandlund's European orbit; works commissioned from Singletary's host of multi-talented Pacific Northwest contacts.
Art made. Art traded. Art gifts. Art lived with on a daily basis. And all showcased in a satisfyingly simple set, a cozy Ballard bungalow on the cusp of Sunset Hill.
Built in 1921, the home's modest 1,500 square feet provide everyday shelter, space to entertain and an attic flat that functions as studio, office and guest room. With everything on the constant where-shall-we-put-it-now move, it's the functional creation of two inventive people for whom art, color and design are basic to a life well lived.
"Initially, we were attracted to each other through our mutual admiration of design," says Pilchuck Glass School-trained Singletary, who recalls moving almost immediately to a state of infatuation.
That was in 1993, when Singletary traveled to Stockholm to teach a workshop at the Kosta Boda glass factory. There he met Sorbonne-educated Sandlund, who'd returned to Stockholm from Paris to finish her design studies.
Within a few months of meeting, she'd graduated to the position of art director for a major advertising agency and he'd arranged a guest-teaching position at the University of Stockholm. Both were developing resumes packed with references to featured exhibitions, design awards and media coverage of their work.
By 1995, they decided Singletary's native Seattle would be home. Two years ago, married and ready to put down residential roots, they purchased the Ballard bungalow. Naturally, their first thoughts turned to color. Having painted a former rental duplex intense shades of tomato red and chartreuse, this time they wanted colors that would play to the natural light in a softer way. Together, they chose deep lemony yellow, pale sage green, grayed blue and - for the kitchen - a clean wash of white.
With help from friends, they took on one major remodeling project: gutting and rebuilding the outdated, cramped bathroom. They also seriously spruced up the shag-carpeted attic, creating an expansive studio-office-guest room with functional painted floors and white-washed walls. "One of the most important things for us was to have a place to work that was outside our main living space," says Singletary. "When we lived in the duplex, my stuff was everywhere."
As far as they were concerned, the house had only one drawback: no formal dining room. One Sundland-inspired brainstorm later and voila: The small second bedroom just off the living room was transformed into an intimate eating space complete with an antique crystal chandelier and a handful of paintings and sketches from friends.
What pleases them most is that the home was created by consensus and mutual appreciation for the talents each brought to the ever-evolving project. "I had one kind of aesthetic when we first met, but now we tend to arrive at decisions together," says Singletary.
Sandlund agrees, but likes to gently joke that Singletary had to adapt to her habit of collecting medical furniture fabricated in the 1930s and '40s: steel cabinets, chairs, stools and desks. She started collecting as a student who found it an inexpensive (not to speak of ergonomically correct and easy to keep clean) way to furnish a home. Today, she reports, such bargain-basement finds fetch astonishing prices. Sandlund also has an extensive collection of school chairs from the 1950s and '60s, most of which are stored in the basement. "I'm not allowed to have them all out at the same time," she laughs.
In many of his most recent works, Singletary focuses on translating Native American themes into the contemporary, traditionally European medium of glass. The work pleases him on many levels, and especially in the opportunity to pay homage to the spirit of his Tlingit roots. Today, he works out of the Benjamin Moore Inc. glass studio in the International District. His most recent exhibition was at William Traver Gallery in Seattle.
"It took some time for me to understand Native American art and its history," says Sandlund, who also studied and assisted at Pilchuck. "It's so beautiful but so different from what I know. The best thing is, we have great conversations about it all." Professionally, Sandlund continues to produce glass designs and also holds the position of "brand advocate" in Nordstrom's sales and promotion department.
On the home front, they recently sold the Ballard bungalow and bought a house with a bit more space. They continue to be attracted to furniture influenced by European modern design in general and Scandinavian design in particular. As their network of friends grows, so does their art collection. "We like design that's simple, basic and practical but unplanned and full of life," says Sandlund, who aspires to practice the now-famous philosophy of the late Swedish designer Carl Malmsten on a daily basis.
"Less," he liked to say, "is more."
Writer Victoria Medgyesi regularly reports on homes and the people who create them. Benjamin Benschneider is a Pacific Northwest staff photographer."
Medgysesi, V. "The House that Glass Built." The Seattle Times. December 5, 1999. accessed July 27, 2009. http://community.seattletimes.nwsource.com/archive/?date=19991205&slug=2999275
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