VIE Magazine January / February 2016

January/February 2016

VOYAGERISSUE

THE

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IN THIS ISSUE:

72 166104 160144

137

62

FEATURE

The Best Sunsets in the World: Floridas Gulf Coast 72

VOYAGER

An Artistic Retreat: Finding Beauty en Provence 22

Mind, Body, and Soul: Experience the Other Colorado at Gateway Canyons Resort 50

Ten Travel Apps and Websites to Use in 2016 84

The Final Frontier: Living in the Age of Space Travel 88

The Greatest Show on Earth 104

Honoring the Old and Welcoming the New 122

Postcards from China: The Huangshan Mountains 160

Beyond the Eiffel Tower 166

Bienvenidos! Beauty Abounds in Southern Spain 178

CELEBRATING A CENTURY OF NATIONAL PARKS

Our National Treasures 130

Wonderland Wanderlust: Mount Rainier National Park 137

Adventures in Yellowstone National Park 152

FOR THE LOVE OF FOOD

A Trip to Bountiful Ballymaloe 62

A Foodies Desert Escape: Phoenix, Arizona 144

THROUGH THE LENS

A Documentation of Loss 30

THE ART OF LIFE

Confessions of a Radio Junkie 38

Finding the Blues in the City of Five Flags 96

COUTURE

Cork Is Popping Out of Wine Bottles and into Your Home 114

HOME AND GARDEN

The Modern Minimalist: Chapter Two 44

V I E MAGAZINE .COM | 13

VIE is a registered trademark. All contents herein are Copyright 20082015 Cornerstone Marketing and Advertising, Incorporated (Publisher). All rights reserved. No part of this periodical may be reproduced without written permission from the Publisher. VIE is a lifestyle magazine and is published six times annually on a bimonthly schedule. The opinions herein are not necessarily those of the Publisher. The Publisher and its advertisers will not be held responsible for any errors found in this publication. The Publisher is not liable for the accuracy of statements made by its advertisers. Ads that appear in this publication are not intended as offers where prohibited by state law. The Publisher is not responsible for photography or artwork submitted by freelance or outside contributors. The Publisher reserves the right to publish any letter addressed to the editor or the Publisher. VIE is a paid publication. Subscription rates: Digital magazine (iPad only) One-year $11.99; Two-year $17.99 / Printed magazine One-year $29.95; Two-year $54.95 (U.S. Only price includes free access to digital magazine versions for iPad). Subscriptions can be purchased online at www.VIEMagazine.com.

CREATIVE TEAM:

FOUNDER / PUBLISHERLISA MARIE BURWELL

[email protected]

FOUNDER / EDITOR-IN-CHIEFGERALD BURWELL

[email protected]

EDITORIAL

MANAGING EDITORJORDAN STAGGS

[email protected]

CHIEF COPY EDITORMARGARET STEVENSON

CONTRIBUTING WRITERSKELLY BEASLEY, SUSAN BENTON, SALLIE W. BOYLES, STEFAN DAIBERL, DALE FOSTER, L AUREN LEG, PARKER MCCLELL AN, HANNAH MYER, TORI PHELPS,

NICHOL AS S. RACHEOTES, MIKE RAGSDALE, ANNE W. SCHULTZ, T.S. STRICKL AND, JACOB SUMMERS, BILL WECKEL, ALLISON WICKEY

ART AND PHOTOGRAPHY

ART DIRECTOR TRACEY THOMAS

FILM CURATOR T IM DUTROW

GRAPHIC DESIGNERSRINN GARL ANGER, LUCY MASHBURN, DEVAN ALLEGRI WATKINS

CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERSALISSA ARYN, KELLY BEASLEY, RICHARD BICKEL, NIKKI CASTLE, STEFAN DAIBERL, COLLEEN DUFFLEY, JACK GARDNER, TODD GUSTAFSON,

FANTASIA MCDANIEL, HANNAH MYER, LYNN NESMITH, SHAWN PARKER, K AY PHEL AN, ROMONA ROBBINS, JESSICA RYBARCZ YK, MICHAEL SAINT JAMES, GRACE STUFKOSK Y, JACOB SUMMERS, BILL WECKEL, DAWN CHAPMAN WHIT T Y, INVOKING MEDIA, MODUS PHOTOGRAPHY

ADVERTISING, SALES, AND MARKETING

WEB DEVELOPERSMEGHN HILL, MARK THOMAS

BRANCH OFFICE MANAGER IREL AND SHARON DUANE

MARKETING MANAGER AMANDA CROWLEY

SOCIAL MARKETING MANAGER SUVA ANG-MENDOZ A

ACCOUNT EXECUTIVESJULIE DORR

[email protected]

MARY JANE [email protected]

DISTRIBUTION MANAGER T IM DUTROW

DISTRIBUTION COORDINATOR SHANNON QUINL AN

14 | JANUARY/ F E BRUA RY 2016

ON THE COVER:

PUBLISHED BY THE IDEA [email protected]

USA114 Logan Lane, Suite 4

Grayton Beach, Florida 32459850.231.3087

IRELANDThe Grain Store, Suite 1

Clifden, Co. Galway85.158.9879

Nothing says Florida like an awe-inspiring sunset over the water. In our hometown of Santa Rosa Beach along Floridas Scenic Highway 30-A, that could include watching the last rays disappear beyond the Gulf of Mexico, Western Lake, or the Choctawhatchee Bay or, as seen on our cover, behind the stunning architecture of Caliza Pool in Alys Beach. Theres just something about a reflection of the colors blazing off the clouds that makes you stop and watch. We would like to thank all the photographers who submitted the breathtaking sunsets and sunrises for consideration in our feature!

photo by jack gardner

Coastal Living Magazine - Beach Cottage - Seagrove, FL

SHOW HOUSE PREVIEWThe Modern Minimalist | Zen by the Bay

M ike and Angela Ragsdale, owners and founders of the 30A brand and beloved members of our community, have embarked on a new adventure that mirrors a lifestyle they are embracingone that is uncluttered and pure.

Following the personal tragedy of their beautiful home on the Choctawhatchee Bay being flooded and subsequently demolished, a rebirth of sorts occurred. The Ragsdales began the process of rebuilding and realized they want to live differently: living with less so they can experience more. And so was born their new home concept that focuses on simplicity and relaxation.

We are thrilled to follow the Ragsdales on their journey of rebirth and cant wait to reveal their new home to our readers. Many sponsors and partners have joined them in the creation of the new home, which weve dubbed Modern Minimalist Zen by the Bay.

Mike has written a beautiful and personal story for this issue of VIE and will continue to chronicle the journey with an article in each issue leading up to the homes big reveal, which will appear in the 2016 Architecture and Design Issue.

We are so excited to publish this familys story and show you their new home on the bay!

Sincerely,Lisa Marie Burwell, PublisherVIE Magazine

General contractor: Hart Builders

Residential design: Rolen Studio Modern Residential

Interior design: Joey LaSalle & Cassidy Lyons Pickens of Lovelace Interiors

Flooring and tile: Renovation Flooring

Kitchen appliances: Builder Specialties, Inc. (BSI), Destin

Home automation: AVX Audio Video Excellence, Inc.

Plumbing fixtures: Ferguson

Shower glass and bathroom mirrors: Seaview Glass and Mirror

Landscape design: Terra Firma Landscapes

Exterior doors and windows: Southern Windows and Doors

Electrical installation: Xcell Electric Inc.

Plumbing and gas installation: SSE Plumbing and Gas Contractors

Insulation: Mid-America Insulation and Supply

Lighting: Beautiful Lights

Custom furniture: Not Too Shabby Boutique

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Home security: Planet Secure

Countertops: Caesarstone and Classic Design

Custom closets: Alpha Closets and Murphy Beds Inc.

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Publisher and Editor-in-Chief, Lisa and Gerald BurwellPhoto by Kay Phelan

PUBLISHERS NOTE:

VOYAGINGAdventure Seekers Explore New Horizons but Return Home

he adventure of exploring and experiencing other places and cultures is part of the magic of travel, and in this issue, weve got

a lot to ignite your spirit of wanderlust. We usher in the New Year by celebrating destinations near, far, and in betweenfrom Ireland to France, from Tanzania to China. We here in Northwest Florida have a rich heritage worthy of exploring as well. So, we have some stories from Apalachicola to Pensacola (or, as we like to say, COLA 2 COLA), the backyard of our publishing headquarters, as it were. Also, 2016 marks the centennial of our countrys National Park Service. To honor this hallmark, we bring you spectacular highlights from some of our national treasures, including Mount Rainer and Yellowstone National Parks. So, if your New Years resolution is to detach from your electronic devices, put down your tech and explore the great outdoors!

Reviewing last year, we had a very busy travel schedule that included trips to New York, Dublin, and London. Our new Irish lifestyle and travel magazine, Connemara Life (published by our satellite company in Clifden, Ireland), alone took us across the pond three times. As worthwhile (and fun) as travel is, it requires a lot of stamina and concentration. There are, indeed, many beautiful places around the world, but after all is said and done, I mostly enjoy being

home in Northwest Floridaa place that, despite its continued rise in popularity, still feels insulated from the relative madness of the world at large.

Our publishing house is headquartered in a coveted Florida resort area with some of the worlds top-rated sugar-white beaches and the most gorgeous sunsets. It is also home to charming and world-renowned New Urbanist communities such as Seaside, Rosemary Beach, St. JOEs WaterColor and WaterSound, and Alys Beach. Alys Beach may be the last to be devel-oped, but it surely is not the least. When I first laid eyes on Caliza Pool in Alys Beach, it took my breath away. I immediately felt as if Id been transported to a faraway Moroccan oasis. Caliza Pool was designed by Alys Beach town architects Eric Vogt and Marieanne Khoury-Vogt, a dynamic husband-and-wife team that has been recognized with three prestigious Palladio Awards for public spaces in Alys Beach: Fonville Press, Caliza Pool, and Sea Garden Walk; their design of Caliza Pool has also earned them a Shutze Award from the Institute of Classical Architecture.

Which leads to the reason for this issues cover image. As we scoured all of the amazing photography from our feature articles (a normal process for us), this photo repeatedly found its way to the top of the list. Photographer extraordinaire Jack Gardner captured all the magic, beauty, and serenity of Caliza Pool, which has become a landmark along beautiful Scenic Highway 30-A. This magnificent photo anchors our featurespectacular Florida sunsetsfound within these pages.

We invite you to travel the globe through the pages of VIE and hope youre inspired to put a few of these places on your travel bucket list. And, if youve never visited Floridas Gulf Coast, we hope to see you soontheres no place like our home!

To LifeLisa Marie

T

S E A FO O D & CO C KTA I L S

Thats an excellent question. There is a good chance that the seafood you will be offered traveled farther than you did. In the state of Florida, even though we are surrounded by water, more than 90% of the seafood sold this year will be imported from other countries.

Throughout the United States, the huge majority of seafood is imported. Most of it is mislabeled. Frozen seafood is sold as fresh and imported seafood is sold as local. According to Oceana, 93% of fish sold as red snapper is actually some other species. 57% of tuna sold at sushi bars throughout the country is not tuna. Most of the tilapia served in this country comes from Viet Nam and Thailand and much of it is farmed in waters with sewage run-off and the source of feed is pig feces.

Harbor Docks has been selling fish through its wholesale market since 1981. We sell to markets across the United States and Canada. We also sell to select restaurants along the Gulf Coast. Harbor Docks contracts with over 100 commercial boats to insure that we have an adequate supply of fresh fish.

We invite you to dine at our restaurants Harbor Docks, in the heart of Destin, and Camilles, overlooking the Gulf in Crystal Beach. But wed also encourage you to try any of the wonderful, independent, local restaurants in our area that are committed to serving Florida seafood. We know who they are, because we sell them their fish.

FRESH SEAFOOD?

DESTIN, FL | 850.837.2506 | harborDockS .com

One of the first questions people ask when they visit our area is How can we be sure were getting fresh seafood?

check our website to find out which restaurants sell certified Gulf-to-Table fish from harbor Docks Seafood market.

Snapper and Tuna stats: http://oceana.org/en/news-media/publications/reports/oceana-study-reveals-seafood-fraud-nationwideImported seafood stat: http://www.fishwatch.gov/farmed_seafood/outside_the_us.htmTilapia/pig feces: http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2012-10-11/asian-seafood-raised-on-pig-feces-approved-for-u-s-consumers.html

HD-FreshFishVIE_AD.indd 1 6/18/13 8:44 AM

Finding Beauty en ProvenceBy Allison Wickey

Photography courtesy of A. Wickey Studio

ne day in 2014, I had two visitors at my gallerythe A. Wickey Studio-Galleryin Seacrest Beach, Florida. They had scheduled a meeting with

me to talk about a retreat in France, an unexpected topic. I normally meet and talk with anyone who requests a meeting because you never know what you might learn. We casually sat and talked, and I learned they wanted me to be the talent at an organized art retreat in Provence. What? Impulsivity had taken me to the most interesting places in life before, so I agreed, and we had five months to pull things together for a June retreat. It all sounded too good to be true. I waited for the other shoe to drop, but it never did. And now here I sit trying to figure out how I can possibly put this experience into words.

As soon as my plane touched down for a layover in Madrid, I could feel all my senses standing at attention. The light was different. So were the trees, the color of the earth, and the people. The airport was one of the most beautiful buildings I have ever visited. Two hours later, I landed in Marseille, France, and my host, Ken Jourdan, picked me up. We headed north for two hours into Provence to the Rhone Retreat. I hadnt slept at all on my flights, so I napped on the drive, waking up occasionally as we wound through tiny towns and streets. In my sleepy haze, my first thoughts were that there is no way these places were real; they were just too perfect. And is that really a thousand-year-old castle on top of that hill?

An

We arrived at a huge iron gate in front of a breath-taking stone-walled villa, and it swung open for us. It reminded me of when I used to wait back home in the beach towns of Highway 30-A for my kids school bus to drop them off and I would hear tourists exclaim, People actually live here?

After a few seasons of hosting groups and getting to know his clientele, Ken tweaked the B and B format and began cultivating a French cultural learning experience specific to each groups needshe even renamed the business Americans in Provence. Whether the guests are into antiques, wine, art, exploration, or something else, Ken will curate an itinerary to fit their interests, all the while main-taining an easy, flexible schedule. The idea behind Americans in Provence is you have the people, we have the place, and the retreat manages the entire excursion from airport to poolside. While Ken is taking care of everyone on the property, driving to mountaintops and castleruins, and providing each guest with a massage, Chef Kim Pitchford is in the kitchen preparing authentic French culinary experiences each day.

Kim, like Ken, has ties to the Emerald Coast and has also led an interesting life of travel and exploration. She lived in France three separate times before becoming a partner in Americans in Provence with Ken in 2013. She graduated from the French Culinary Institute (now the International Culinary Center) in New York City and did a professional internship at a Michelin-starred restaurant in Paris. Kim brought her talents to Grayton Beach, Florida, in 2006 and started Dine by Design Catering, which she sold two years ago when she moved to Rhone Retreat.

We arrived at a huge iron gate in front of a breathtaking stone-walled villa, and it

swung open for us.

Yes, people actually live there. Ken Jourdan, the proprietor, has led a life full of travel and exploration while maintaining ties to the Northwest Florida coast. Ken attended FSU, his wonderful parents reside in Seagrove Beach, and he comes back to the area frequently to take care of his clients; he is a masseur, a father, a tour guide, and a full-time caretaker of the Rhone Retreat. Ken and a few business partners bought the property, which includes the main house, cottages, and outbuildings, in 2004 with the purpose of starting a bed-and-breakfast. He has done a lot of work on the property to discreetly modernize it, as his guests there are mostly Americans.

Until I spent ten days with Kim, I was the kind of person who would be completely content if all food came in pill form so that I could just go about my day. From the moment I set foot in the main house where the kitchen was located, my thoughts about food as art began to change. When we arrived from the airport, it was noon and I was half asleep. I walked into the timeless main houseformerly a church schoolfull of natural light from its eight-foot windows. I sat at a beautiful weathered harvest table arranged with a bowl of fresh cherries, assorted cheeses, a baguette, freshly sliced tomatoes, and a carafe of ros. It was a perfectly casual, everyday French lunch, and I knew I had found my people.

After nibbling and drinking a couple glasses of wine, I was led to my cottage, which was my hundredth People actually live here? experience of the day. The cottage had exposed stone walls and floors, ivy climbing up the exterior, open windows, high ceilings, and a coolness that was still lingering from the morning. I went to sleep and woke up eight hours later around ten oclock at night. Traces of the sunset were still visible, and I dozed back off thinking, Ive been here for twelve hours, and Ive

already seen enough amazing things that, if I went home now, I would be satisfied.

I spent the next couple of days collecting art supplies for myself and the four American guests who had signed up to attend the art retreat I was recruited to lead. I had no idea what to expect, but I have taught workshops and so was all set to discuss topics like not being afraid of failure and letting go of control, just in case we had time to kill while paintings were drying. When we werent preparing for the guests, I took off on foot around the nearby sloping village of Gaujacpopulation under a thousandin the foothills of the Alps. Atop the nearest mountain were some Roman ruins. I made it my mission to walk the steep trail to those ruins as often as possible, taking in the view of the rolling landscape dotted with tiny ancient villages and working off all the croissants and the salt-infused butter.

One of my best friends from Florida later arrived to enjoy the retreat and to help out; one of the first things she said upon arrival was Are you kidding me? It sums up how lucky we felt to be in such a place. She instantly found herself at home in the

kitchen assisting Kim, and I did some last-minute preparations around the property, gathering fresh flowers and sweeping the winding trails between the cottages and gardens.

Finally, our guests arrived! Weather had caused some travel glitches in the United States and there was an unfortunate luggage situation, but the guests settled in and we all got to know each other. Each of my four students was an artist in her own right and each had her own style. They were all friends who circulated among the art festivals in the southern United States. The ringleader was a contemporary landscape/abstract artist from Birmingham, Alabama, named Vicki Denaburg. I had actually met Vicki through friends about four years ago. She heard about the retreat and gathered three of her friendsLeatha, Lauren, and Emilyto come along.

Leatha Frost is a real Southern lady to the core. I wondered what she would think of my less-than-ladylike personality. Ultimately, we adored each other, and I loved watching her blossom on this much-needed retreat. Her work is beautiful and graceful, just like her.

The cottage had exposed stone walls and floors, ivy climbing up the exterior, open windows, high ceilings, and a coolness that was still lingering from the morning.


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Until I spent ten days with Kim, I was the kind of person who would be completely content if all food came in pill form so that I could just go about my day. From the moment I set foot in the main house where the kitchen was located, my thoughts about food as art began to change. When we arrived from the airport, it was noon and I was half asleep. I walked into the timeless main houseformerly a church schoolfull of natural light from its eight-foot windows. I sat at a beautiful weathered harvest table arranged with a bowl of fresh cherries, assorted cheeses, a baguette, freshly sliced tomatoes, and a carafe of ros. It was a perfectly casual, everyday French lunch, and I knew I had found my people.

After nibbling and drinking a couple glasses of wine, I was led to my cottage, which was my hundredth People actually live here? experience of the day. The cottage had exposed stone walls and floors, ivy climbing up the exterior, open windows, high ceilings, and a coolness that was still lingering from the morning. I went to sleep and woke up eight hours later around ten oclock at night. Traces of the sunset were still visible, and I dozed back off thinking, Ive been here for twelve hours, and Ive

already seen enough amazing things that, if I went home now, I would be satisfied.

I spent the next couple of days collecting art supplies for myself and the four American guests who had signed up to attend the art retreat I was recruited to lead. I had no idea what to expect, but I have taught workshops and so was all set to discuss topics like not being afraid of failure and letting go of control, just in case we had time to kill while paintings were drying. When we werent preparing for the guests, I took off on foot around the nearby sloping village of Gaujacpopulation under a thousandin the foothills of the Alps. Atop the nearest mountain were some Roman ruins. I made it my mission to walk the steep trail to those ruins as often as possible, taking in the view of the rolling landscape dotted with tiny ancient villages and working off all the croissants and the salt-infused butter.

One of my best friends from Florida later arrived to enjoy the retreat and to help out; one of the first things she said upon arrival was Are you kidding me? It sums up how lucky we felt to be in such a place. She instantly found herself at home in the

kitchen assisting Kim, and I did some last-minute preparations around the property, gathering fresh flowers and sweeping the winding trails between the cottages and gardens.

Finally, our guests arrived! Weather had caused some travel glitches in the United States and there was an unfortunate luggage situation, but the guests settled in and we all got to know each other. Each of my four students was an artist in her own right and each had her own style. They were all friends who circulated among the art festivals in the southern United States. The ringleader was a contemporary landscape/abstract artist from Birmingham, Alabama, named Vicki Denaburg. I had actually met Vicki through friends about four years ago. She heard about the retreat and gathered three of her friendsLeatha, Lauren, and Emilyto come along.

Leatha Frost is a real Southern lady to the core. I wondered what she would think of my less-than-ladylike personality. Ultimately, we adored each other, and I loved watching her blossom on this much-needed retreat. Her work is beautiful and graceful, just like her.

The cottage had exposed stone walls and floors, ivy climbing up the exterior, open windows, high ceilings, and a coolness that was still lingering from the morning.

On the last day of the retreat, we had an impromptu exhibit. We dressed up and invited a few people from town to the property for a cocktail hour. There was a slight language barrier, but after exchanging smiles and with the help of translations by Ken and Kim, we felt we had sufficiently impressed our attendees as we sat down outside under the candlelit arbor for our final dinner together. By this time, we had all surrendered to the salt-infused butter on flaky baguettes, and we dived into Kims meals as if they were the answer to all ills. Our dinners were always hours long, and the only things that peeled us away from the table were complaints that our faces hurt from laughing too much.

We left the retreat buzzing from everything we saw, felt, and tasted. Every sense was still heightened, and I wondered how long it would last once I settled back in to normal life at home. Its been almost five months since the retreat, and recently most of our group was able to meet for an evening at the beach. We laughed and retold stories and other What happens in Gaujac, stays in Gaujac anecdotes until our faces hurt again. The consensus is that it was a trip of a lifetime and marked different important personal firsts for all of us. Ken and Kim have massaged the Rhone Retreat into the perfect back-drop for creating art, memories, and friendships. Like they say, Once you Gaujac, you always go back.

question What was your favorite part of the day? came up, and without fail there would be a silence and a slow realization that we each loved every single thing we did and saw; we could never come up with a favorite. Ken is an expert on the area and its history, and once he got a read on our group, he tailored our day trips to match the level of adventure he knew we wanted.

Nashville artist Emily Little is best described as a joyful, effervescent spirit, and her work reflects her perfectly. We witnessed Emily creating her first-ever landscapes, and she was a master! Her personal style and positive attitude are arts in themselves.

Lauren Dunn, also an artist in Nashville, embodies the phrase still waters run deep. This was her first trip to Europe, and her bag didnt arrive until two or three days after she did, but she held it together! Her work is amazing and flows through intuitive pops of color and shapes. All the while, she remains calm and collected. I won one of her pieces at the end of the retreat and consider it a treasure.

All our backgrounds and personalities ran the spectrum, and from the beginning I knew it would be an interesting experience.

The travelers needed a day of leisure and, with typical Ken and Kim precision, one of many perfect days started with a sightseeing stroll and a mouthwatering picnic near the Roman ruins. Later, we took a dip in the pool, and at nine oclock we sat down outdoors under candlelight for our first group dinner. Kim quickly became everyones new favorite person. Her meals were always elegant but never snooty. She used seasonal vegetables and fruits, along with hand-rolled pasta, and she did magical things that I cant begin to explain.

Our little village was smack in the middle of wine country and in every direction there were vineyards,

so our wine knowledge and intake were also ramped up; we floated around Provence with permanent smiles on our faces, soaking it all in.

Every morning we would trickle into the kitchen or the outdoor kitchen, sip coffee and talk, and usually fit in a walk to the ruins or nearby village before starting our daily artistic and cultural adventures. Every day Ken and Kim had a destination planned for us to visit, including an unbelievable French market and a gourmet picnic within the walls of a former Popes castle, and in the afternoons we painted.

I decided to start the workshop by teaching the students how to construct a frame using a chop saw, glue, and nails. We were very fortunate to have a renowned wood sculptor living down the street, and he gave us access to his exquisite studio to do some initial woodcutting. We took our lumber and headed back to one of the retreats courtyards to finish frame construction under a huge willow tree. The workshops lasted for about two hours each afternoon, depending on everyones moods and the days travel plans.

Days spent with the group included learning each others techniques and styles, as well as bonding over leisurely meals and stories about our families and work. The beauty of the Rhone Retreat is having the ability to spend time with a group while also having the freedom to enjoy solitude in your own corner of the property. Everyone is free to come and go as they please and to paint or not. Every night at dinner the

From cool mornings to dazzling sunsets, we were wowed by our surroundings and all began painting our versions of the

sights we had seen.From cool mornings to dazzling sunsets, we were wowed by our surroundings and all began painting our versions of the sights we had seen. We had our main paint studio in and around one of the property cottages, and we each set up our own little studios. After I taught the group members the steps to my technique, they began to crave the supplies they use at home to best re-create the landscapes and architecture, so they grabbed more supplies and off they went! Each artist had different techniques, tools, color palettes, and inspirations. All of us experimented with tools, colors, and subjects we had never before tried and learned so much from watching each other.


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On the last day of the retreat, we had an impromptu exhibit. We dressed up and invited a few people from town to the property for a cocktail hour. There was a slight language barrier, but after exchanging smiles and with the help of translations by Ken and Kim, we felt we had sufficiently impressed our attendees as we sat down outside under the candlelit arbor for our final dinner together. By this time, we had all surrendered to the salt-infused butter on flaky baguettes, and we dived into Kims meals as if they were the answer to all ills. Our dinners were always hours long, and the only things that peeled us away from the table were complaints that our faces hurt from laughing too much.

We left the retreat buzzing from everything we saw, felt, and tasted. Every sense was still heightened, and I wondered how long it would last once I settled back in to normal life at home. Its been almost five months since the retreat, and recently most of our group was able to meet for an evening at the beach. We laughed and retold stories and other What happens in Gaujac, stays in Gaujac anecdotes until our faces hurt again. The consensus is that it was a trip of a lifetime and marked different important personal firsts for all of us. Ken and Kim have massaged the Rhone Retreat into the perfect back-drop for creating art, memories, and friendships. Like they say, Once you Gaujac, you always go back.

question What was your favorite part of the day? came up, and without fail there would be a silence and a slow realization that we each loved every single thing we did and saw; we could never come up with a favorite. Ken is an expert on the area and its history, and once he got a read on our group, he tailored our day trips to match the level of adventure he knew we wanted.

Nashville artist Emily Little is best described as a joyful, effervescent spirit, and her work reflects her perfectly. We witnessed Emily creating her first-ever landscapes, and she was a master! Her personal style and positive attitude are arts in themselves.

Lauren Dunn, also an artist in Nashville, embodies the phrase still waters run deep. This was her first trip to Europe, and her bag didnt arrive until two or three days after she did, but she held it together! Her work is amazing and flows through intuitive pops of color and shapes. All the while, she remains calm and collected. I won one of her pieces at the end of the retreat and consider it a treasure.

All our backgrounds and personalities ran the spectrum, and from the beginning I knew it would be an interesting experience.

The travelers needed a day of leisure and, with typical Ken and Kim precision, one of many perfect days started with a sightseeing stroll and a mouthwatering picnic near the Roman ruins. Later, we took a dip in the pool, and at nine oclock we sat down outdoors under candlelight for our first group dinner. Kim quickly became everyones new favorite person. Her meals were always elegant but never snooty. She used seasonal vegetables and fruits, along with hand-rolled pasta, and she did magical things that I cant begin to explain.

Our little village was smack in the middle of wine country and in every direction there were vineyards,

so our wine knowledge and intake were also ramped up; we floated around Provence with permanent smiles on our faces, soaking it all in.

Every morning we would trickle into the kitchen or the outdoor kitchen, sip coffee and talk, and usually fit in a walk to the ruins or nearby village before starting our daily artistic and cultural adventures. Every day Ken and Kim had a destination planned for us to visit, including an unbelievable French market and a gourmet picnic within the walls of a former Popes castle, and in the afternoons we painted.

I decided to start the workshop by teaching the students how to construct a frame using a chop saw, glue, and nails. We were very fortunate to have a renowned wood sculptor living down the street, and he gave us access to his exquisite studio to do some initial woodcutting. We took our lumber and headed back to one of the retreats courtyards to finish frame construction under a huge willow tree. The workshops lasted for about two hours each afternoon, depending on everyones moods and the days travel plans.

Days spent with the group included learning each others techniques and styles, as well as bonding over leisurely meals and stories about our families and work. The beauty of the Rhone Retreat is having the ability to spend time with a group while also having the freedom to enjoy solitude in your own corner of the property. Everyone is free to come and go as they please and to paint or not. Every night at dinner the

From cool mornings to dazzling sunsets, we were wowed by our surroundings and all began painting our versions of the

sights we had seen.From cool mornings to dazzling sunsets, we were wowed by our surroundings and all began painting our versions of the sights we had seen. We had our main paint studio in and around one of the property cottages, and we each set up our own little studios. After I taught the group members the steps to my technique, they began to crave the supplies they use at home to best re-create the landscapes and architecture, so they grabbed more supplies and off they went! Each artist had different techniques, tools, color palettes, and inspirations. All of us experimented with tools, colors, and subjects we had never before tried and learned so much from watching each other.

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LssA Documentation of By Anne W. SchultzPhotography by Richard Bickel

Hands punching out from the foreground of black-and-white photographs pull viewers into the

world of the oystermen, shuckers, fishermen, and dockworkers of Apalachicola, Floridaone

of the last working waterfronts in America. It is unlikely that visitors will run into one of these

hardworking guys on the town streets. It is more likely they will savor the quality oysters the

workers harvested by hand at one of the local eateries, such as the Owl Cafe, served up with hot

sauce and lemon slices. These seafood harvesters are largely invisible, working outdoors behind

the scenes in grueling conditions to bring us the freshest seafood possible.


nternationally respected photojournalist Richard Bickel makes these workers highly visible in a stunning collection of photographs assembled in his gallery in downtown Apalachicolas historic district. Photography is more for the

common man because it captures life, Bickel says. It stops people and brings them in. You cant politely stare at a person for a long time, but you can stare at a portrait and then you see the soul. My portraits are environmental, as I show the weathered boats and bay or marshes surrounding them. It says, This is his life. He depends on this. It adds a little mystery that makes the viewer wonder about the personWhat are they all about? Where do they like to hang out?

It is the telling details, little clues that Bickel sprinkles around, that make the subjects come alive to the viewer. It is obvious these arent the lily-white, manicured hands of men fingering computers in air-conditioned offices from nine to five. They are the rough, calloused, weather-beaten hands of those accustomed to hauling around sixty-pound burlap sacks bulging with oysters. The layer of dirt caked under the fingernails of those gripping oyster tongs shows the viewer that this is a grimy business. It is hard to imagine these strong, rugged individuals confined by the cramped cubicles of an office when they enjoy the immense sky as a ceiling and endless coastal vistas as surroundings. These are workers who take their directions from the wind and tides rather than from a boss.

Its the Gulf Coast of oldfiercely independent people with a strong work ethic, says Bickel. People who have little but the sea to rely on for their liveli-hood and for the dignity that livelihood provides. He may be chronicling a vanishing breed and the loss of a Gulf Coast tradition and way of life passed down through families for generations as the source of their incomesthe Apalachicola Baycollapses around them.

Bickel discovered this bay and the sleepy fishing village of Apalachicola in 1995 while on assignment for a magazine article about Northwest Florida. He moved from the cloudy skies of Pittsburgh down to the sunny Gulf Coast to capture the richness of a culture he cherishes. It was a true working-class waterfrontwith the fish-guts smell, the rickety docks, the handmade boats, Bickel relates in an interview with the Tallahassee Democrat. It was very textured. It reminded me a lot of the docks in Burma

and Thailand, and those are some of my favorite places in the world.

Fueled by curiosity and a passion for travel, Bickel has traipsed the globevisiting seventy countries so farshooting images for such prestigious publi-cations as the New York Times, National Geographic Traveler, Cond Nast Traveler, and Newsweek. On the international scene, his work has appeared in the Times of London and on the Italian national public television network. On assignment for the German newspaper Die Zeit, he photographed the BP oil spill recovery on Apalachicola Bay. He has also published two coffee-table booksThe Last Great Bay: Images of Apalachicola and Apalachicola River: An American Treasureto keep the spotlight shining on these globally significant waterways.

So many tourists come to the Florida Panhandle only for beaches and dont know a thing about the bay and its importance to the Florida economy as well as the tourist experience, Bickel shares in the same article. It really is one of the top five ecosystems in the world.

Like the seafood workers Bickel photographs, the Apalachicola River is largely invisible to most visitors, even though it feeds one of the most productive estuaries in the northern hemisphere. Because its the only river in Florida originating in the mountains rather than the Coastal Plain, it makes Apalachicola Bay Floridas richest estuary in detritus and minerals. That accounts for trophy-sized catches and explains why the Apalachicola oyster is prized worldwide for its succulence and sweet, briny flavor.

This epic river begins as the Chattahoochee River in the Blue Ridge Mountains of northern Georgia. The river cascades down the mountainside, flowing on to the FloridaGeorgia border where it merges with the Flint. The union of these two rivers forms the Apalachicola River, which flows for 107 miles on to the estuary and the Gulf of Mexico. For the first twenty miles, it flows along the edges of the Tallahassee Red Hills between massive bluffs where wooded ravines line the eastern edge and its lower banks are studded with ancient limestone outcrops that were laid down eons ago when the sea level was much higher, Gil Nelson describes in his book Exploring Wild Northwest Florida. The river area is estimated to be some thirty million years old, with ancient, rare plants preserved in steep ravines of tributaries flowing into the river from the east.

IIts the Gulf Coast of old fiercely

independent people with a strong

work ethic.


No other river valley near the Gulf of Mexico, not even that of the mighty Mississippi, holds so many northern plants from times long past, explains D. Bruce Means in Priceless Florida, a book he coauthored with Ellie Whitney and Anne Rudloe. Out of thirteen hundred plant species growing here, one hundred and twenty-seven are considered the very rarest in North America. Several of the tree and shrub spe-cies resemble those in similar ravines in Eastern Asia. A few mosses and ferns that grow in the protected understory also grow in Mexican tropical cloud forests.

Leaving higher elevations, the gradually descending river yawns widely into an immense, fifteen-mile floodplain of wetland habitats that include hardwood forests, dense swamps, cypress backwaters, open waters, and both freshwater and brackish marshes populated with an enormous diversity of life. The highest bio-logical density of amphibians and reptiles in North Americamore than forty species of amphibians and eighty species of reptilesflourishes in this river system.

At sea level, the river pours into the Apalachicola Bay; it reigns as Floridas largest river by water volume. Freshwater fills the shallow basin and then overflows into the eastern Gulf of Mexico, providing 35 percent of its freshwater. The freshwater extends into the Gulf for some 250 miles.

Large amounts of freshwater allow estuary inhabit-ants to savor long periods of low salinity that keep predators away. Thats especially critical for the survival of the oyster beds that cover half the bays mud floor, as the oyster drillthe oysters worst enemycant live in freshwater. Salt water and freshwater blend into a precise formulaa mothers milk loaded with nutrients and minerals specifically designed to feed billions of marine organisms that thrive in this coastal nursery.

Besides providing 10 percent of the nations oysters and 90 percent of Floridas, the estuary also nourishes the states most popular eating and game fish such as grouper, snapper, shrimp, and blue crab. These species lure in recreational fishermen and support a $6.6 million seafood industry in the northern Gulf of Mexico. An adequate flow of freshwater is a major factor in its ability to recover from various stresses.

Apalachicola Bay is taking a long time to recover from a 2012 collapse that also severely damaged the local economy, reports Margie Menzel in an article for the News Service of Florida. The bay buckled in 2012,

when a lack of freshwater combined with a historic drought and a tropical storm to produce the lowest flows in 89 years. The bay was declared a federal fishery disaster in 2013and two years later, hardly anyone is making a decent living there. Also, Florida is locked in a legal battle with Georgia to try to force the release of more freshwater into the bay from the Apalachicola-Chattahoochee-Flint river system, which originates in Georgia.

When oyster harvesting was at its peak, harvesters could earn more than a thousand dollars a week, says fifth-generation harvester Philip Vinson in a Tampa Bay Times article. The article cites an example of the oyster shortage with Lynns Quality Oysters, a thirty-year-old local business that used to take in up to 150 sacks of about 240 oysters a day. Now we are lucky if we get five, adds owner Lynn Martina.

This is not a political issue, says Bickel. Its common sense and its common decency. Its something God has given us. Lets not lose it. In his encyclical Laudato Si: On Care for Our Common Home, Pope Francis reminds us that its also a spiritual issue. He challenges all people, not just Catholics, to be caretakers of the earth. The pope stresses that the environment has to be understood in terms of the intimate relation between the poor and the fragility of the planet and the conviction that the whole world is intimately connected. Bickel prac-tices stewardship through his photography, his two books, and his steadfast support of Apalachicola Riverkeeper, a nonprofit environmental advocacy organization located a few blocks from his gallery.

The bay was declared a federal fishery disaster

in 2013and two years later, hardly anyone is making a decent living there.


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The Apalachee Indians deemed these waters sacred. So does the Apalachicola Riverkeeper, reads the organizations mission statement. And just as these Native Americans passed this treasure to us, we are determined to preserve it for future generations.

Apalachicola Riverkeeper is a member of the Water-keeper Alliance, founded by Robert F. Kennedy Jr. in 1999, says Shannon Lease, Apalachicola River-keepers executive director. Since that time, the Waterkeeper Alliance has evolved into a worldwide environmental movement with more than 250 Waterkeeper organizations protecting rivers, lakes, and coastal waterways on six continents. The mission of Apalachicola Riverkeeper is to restore, protect, and preserve the Apalachicola River and Bay. We are a fourteen-hundred-member organization made up of citizen advocates who work together to address the rivers major challenges: the reduction of life-sustaining freshwater flows, the loss of floodplain and wetland habitats, the degradation of water quality, and unmanaged growth and development. These are threats not only to our waterways, but also to our local and state economies. As Riverkeeper Dan Tonsmeire puts it in the article by Menzel, What were seeing is that the seafood industry is collapsing with the ecosystem.

Apalachicola Riverkeeper is a founding member of the Apalachicola-Chattahoochee-Flint Stakeholder

(ACFS) initiative, a multistate partnership group established to develop a plan for the equitable allocation of the water shared by Georgia, Florida, and Alabama. All three states claim the waters in the ACF river basin. The stakeholder group remains focused on this goal despite the fact that Floridas governor filed an original action in the Supreme Court against the State of Georgia on September 2013.

Whether we recognize it or not, we all share a common bond with the workers Bickel documents. No matter our economic or social status, our political affiliation, or our occupation, we all depend on nat-ural resources for survival. If we look at nature with eyes of love and see it as a gift from God instead of as a commodity to be exploited for profit, we will see Gods glory shining through and be impassioned to care for it. The choice is ours.

Apalachicola Riverkeeper relies on donations from individuals to continue its stewardship of the Apalachicola River and Bay. To help in the efforts to save these national treasures, visit www.apalachico-lariverkeeper.org or call (850) 653-8936.

Check out more of Richard Bickels photography at www.richardbickelphotography.com or stop by his Apalachicola gallery at 81 Market Street.

Remember the time we foundthe perfect little beach town?

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BY NICHOLAS S. RACHEOTES ILLUSTRATIONS BY LUCY MASHBURN

confessions of a

RADIO JUNKIEI

magine you are in a meeting of the support group Listeners Anonymous. You might hear something like this: Hello, my name is and its been fifteen minutes since I scanned the dial for a decent song. This is the tragic story of my failure

to recover from the illness known in medical circles as radio hyperactivity. It manifests itself as an irrepressible craving for broadcast soundAM, FM, Internet streamingit makes no difference; it has nearly ruined every human relationship Ive had.

The whole thing began when I was eight and was sharing a bedroom with my three-year-old brother. Between our big-boy beds was a DuMont or Philco tabletop radio. It was gorgeous with its illuminated dial, those gold-on-black numbers spanning the distance between 530 and 1600 kilohertz. That a record player for 78s was built into its top wasnt important to us. We also didnt care that it was constructed of more oak than the paneling in the bar of the best hotel. What

mattered most was that we could fall asleep to The Lone Ranger, Dragnet, or the Stan Freberg variety show as the last days of radio network drama and comedy were drawing to a close.

We thought we were getting away with something. I tried to turn the volume up just loud enough for both of us to hear but low enough for our parents down the hall not to notice. It never worked.

Down to our door would come the clomp, clomp of Dads footsteps and the chilling interrogation, Arent you guys asleep yet? Snap went the dial, and a curtain of darkness fell on another episode of Yours

This is the tragic story of my failure.. to recover from the illness known in..

medical circles as radio hyperactivity.

Today, things have gotten so much worse for us audio addicts. Hundreds of stations are bouncing from the satellite to the car. Hundreds more are in my computer favorites. Ive become my own DJ with a few programmable sites. Earbuds have widened my auditory canal. High-quality, ambient noise-killing headphones have created noticeable indentations on both sides of my noggin. Theres a radio in the office and in every room of the house, including the bathroom. Wont somebody help?

Wait, my tickler file tells me that a Brahms symphony is being featured at nine; no, theres a rebroadcast of Springsteen live in Jersey. How about a recording of the Grateful Dead from an old concert in Atlanta? Jazz from the Village Vanguard in New York? I have it! I can watch Monday Night Football while listening to the radio play-by-play.

This is your radio junkie, signing off and tuning in.

Nick Racheotes is a product of Boston public schools, Brandeis University, and Boston College, from which he holds a PhD in history. Since he retired fromteaching at Framingham State University, Nick and his wife, Pat, divide their time between Boston, Cape Cod, and the Western world.

Truly, Johnny Dollar. If I felt really brave, Id listen to my little brother who never got spanked, and I would stealthily go for a second act. The consequences of this transgression were too dire for me to recount here.

Then came the revolution in two stages: rock n roll and the Japanese transistor radio. The new music needs no explanation, but the transistor might. A little bigger than a deck of cards and covered in leather-like plastic, sometimes even with its own earphone, the transistor was custom made for undercover listening. Oh, the guilty pleasure of it all: late-night baseball play-by-play announcers from hundreds of miles away heard in the wee hours, switching quickly away from news to keep the music flowing. But the parental unit soon smartened up. Every time I wanted an advance on next weeks allowance for batteries, they would ask, Why are you going through them so quickly?

Have I forgotten to mention my penchant for radio hooliganism? Across AM and FM, the goal was to get two or more jocks who took requests on separate stations to play the same tune at roughly the same time. The bandits of the broadcast band knew this as a blanket. Even today, I fantasize about posing as a socialist and evoking a rant from a right-wing opinionator on a talk show or about straining the politeness of a National Public Radio hostess with a dose of Tea Party dogma. Forget sports talk; eliciting a shouting match from that corner of radio heaven isnt even a challenge.

A brand name is more than a word. It is the beginning of a conversation.

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Lets start talking.

( 8 5 0 ) 2 3 1 - 3 0 8 7 t h e i d e a b o u t i q u e . c o m

Turquoise Skye: She was drawn to t

he ethereal, aqua color of the gla

ss. Picking up the cul-

prit of her pain, she caressed it

between her thumb and forefinge

r carefully avoiding the

sharp point.

She raised it to the sky in the di

rection of the sun. Carefully squi

nting, she smiled at the

beautiful color change in the sky

simply by looking through the gl

ass. Turquoise reflected

as the rays of sunshine gently co

llided to create nothing less tha

n pure genius.

It was absolutely, positively he

r favorite color! What would l

ife be like she thought if

the sky were turquoise? ?Suzy

Turquoise Skye:She was drawn to

the ethereal, aqua color of the

glass. Picking up the

culprit of her pain, she caressed

it between her thumb and foref

inger carefully avoiding

the sharp point.









n pure genius.





Turquoise Skye:She was drawn to

the ethereal, aqua color of the

glass. Picking up the

culprit of her pain, she caressed

it between her thumb and foref

inger carefully avoiding

the sharp point.









n pure genius.





Turquoise Skye:She was drawn to t

he ethereal, aqua color of the gla

ss. Picking up the cul-

prit of her pain, she caressed it

between her thumb and forefinge

r carefully avoiding the

T i l e L i g h t i n g M o s a i c s

17 Uptown Grayton Circle, Santa Rosa Beach, FL 32459 850.213.0000 Q-tile.com

I used to rule my world from a pay phoneAnd ships out on the seaBut now times are roughAnd Ive got too much stuffCant explain the likes of me(Jimmy Buffett, One Particular Harbour)

Shipping containers?

Yes, I beamed with confidence.

You mean like those big metal boxcar-looking things? she asked.

Yes, boxcars. Exactly.

And . . . we would . . . live in it?

This might be harder than I thought.

After our Santa Rosa Beach home was flooded during a two-hundred-year storm event, we discovered that its aging walls were infested with mold, rot, mildew, and other coastal unpleasantness. Ultimately, we demolished our family home, and we then faced the daunting task of starting from scratch on a muddy bay-front canvas. In keeping with my time-tested financial intuitions, we had purchased our home at the very pinnacle of the housing market, so weve been underwater ever sincemetaphorically at first and then physically when the ris-ing floodwaters unceremoniously ushered us out the front door in the middle of the night.

People are doing all sorts of really innovative things with shipping containers, I said to my unconvinced wife, Angela, while flicking through Pinterest

By M I K E R AG S DA L E

Architecture and renderings by R O L E N S T U D I O

Photography by A L I S S A A RY N P HOTOG RA P H Y

C H A P T E R TWO

THE MODERN MINIMALIST

Zen by the Bay

pages of visually stunning homes constructed from discarded metal shells.

Even before the flood, I had been reading books on how to simplify ones life by focusing on what really matterstravels and experiencesrather than material possessions. Titles such as Vagabonding by Rolf Potts, The Art of Non-Conformity by Chris Guillebeau, and Simplify by Joshua Becker were usually within my reach. Yet, because I was still mentally shackled to all of the things wed hoarded over the years, these authors real-world recommen-dations read more like abstract theories to me.

But now times are rough, and Ive got too much stuff . . .

Like a tidal surge that abruptly changes the landscape of an entire region, the flood forced us to simplify. It was no longer a philosophical goal; it was a financial mandate. Like an unplanned baptism, the water had washed away many of our possessions, leaving us shell-shocked yet optimistic about starting anew.

While the waters receded, we called our friend Kristi Stevenson of Hart Builders. Kristi had always been

MIKE AND ANGELA RAGSDALE, FOUNDERS OF THE 30A COMPANY, LOST THEIR BAY-FRONT HOME IN SANTA ROSA BEACH, FLORIDA, DURING A FLOOD IN APRIL 2014. THIS IS THE SECOND INSTALLMENT IN A FOUR-PART SERIES OF VIE ARTICLES CONCERNING THEIR FAMILYS REBUILDING PROCESS. THE RAGSDALES NEW HOME WILL BE FEATURED IN VIES 2016 ARCHITECTURE AND DESIGN ISSUE (MAY/JUNE) AND IN A SERIES OF FEATURES ON 30A.COM.


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I used to rule my world from a pay phoneAnd ships out on the seaBut now times are roughAnd Ive got too much stuffCant explain the likes of me(Jimmy Buffett, One Particular Harbour)

Shipping containers?

Yes, I beamed with confidence.

You mean like those big metal boxcar-looking things? she asked.

Yes, boxcars. Exactly.

And . . . we would . . . live in it?

This might be harder than I thought.

After our Santa Rosa Beach home was flooded during a two-hundred-year storm event, we discovered that its aging walls were infested with mold, rot, mildew, and other coastal unpleasantness. Ultimately, we demolished our family home, and we then faced the daunting task of starting from scratch on a muddy bay-front canvas. In keeping with my time-tested financial intuitions, we had purchased our home at the very pinnacle of the housing market, so weve been underwater ever sincemetaphorically at first and then physically when the ris-ing floodwaters unceremoniously ushered us out the front door in the middle of the night.

People are doing all sorts of really innovative things with shipping containers, I said to my unconvinced wife, Angela, while flicking through Pinterest

By M I K E R AG S DA L E

Architecture and renderings by R O L E N S T U D I O

Photography by A L I S S A A RY N P HOTOG RA P H Y

C H A P T E R TWO

THE MODERN MINIMALIST

Zen by the Bay

pages of visually stunning homes constructed from discarded metal shells.

Even before the flood, I had been reading books on how to simplify ones life by focusing on what really matterstravels and experiencesrather than material possessions. Titles such as Vagabonding by Rolf Potts, The Art of Non-Conformity by Chris Guillebeau, and Simplify by Joshua Becker were usually within my reach. Yet, because I was still mentally shackled to all of the things wed hoarded over the years, these authors real-world recommen-dations read more like abstract theories to me.

But now times are rough, and Ive got too much stuff . . .

Like a tidal surge that abruptly changes the landscape of an entire region, the flood forced us to simplify. It was no longer a philosophical goal; it was a financial mandate. Like an unplanned baptism, the water had washed away many of our possessions, leaving us shell-shocked yet optimistic about starting anew.

While the waters receded, we called our friend Kristi Stevenson of Hart Builders. Kristi had always been

MIKE AND ANGELA RAGSDALE, FOUNDERS OF THE 30A COMPANY, LOST THEIR BAY-FRONT HOME IN SANTA ROSA BEACH, FLORIDA, DURING A FLOOD IN APRIL 2014. THIS IS THE SECOND INSTALLMENT IN A FOUR-PART SERIES OF VIE ARTICLES CONCERNING THEIR FAMILYS REBUILDING PROCESS. THE RAGSDALES NEW HOME WILL BE FEATURED IN VIES 2016 ARCHITECTURE AND DESIGN ISSUE (MAY/JUNE) AND IN A SERIES OF FEATURES ON 30A.COM.

DESPITE THE FACT THAT THIS WAS GOING TO BE A UNIQUELY

CHALLENGING PROJECT, KRISTI AND HER BUSINESS PARTNER THOM GRANT

NEVER MADE US FEEL BAD FOR NEEDING TO KEEP IT SIMPLE.

AS WE STOOD WITH ED, THOM, AND KRISTI UPON THE DUSTY REMAINS OF OUR RECENTLY DEMOLISHED HOME, I SKETCHED

OUT A RUDIMENTARY FLOOR PLAN ON A SCRAP OF PAPER.

there for our family, day or night. The AC dies smack-dab in the middle of a sweltering summer afternoon? Call Kristi. Faulty flashing causes the chimney to leak? Call Kristi. Shed always been there to help whenever we were in over our heads.

Were in over our heads, Kristi, I said. Way over.

After hearing of our midnight plight, Kristi promised us that we could build a nice home on our budget. Well make it work, she said reassuringly.

In the weeks and months that followed, Kristi became our most valuable ally, waging war like a smartphone Spartan to keep us on track and on budget.

In time, my crazy notions of living in a boxcar con-coction receded. Ultimately, I didnt want to be that guy. You know, the guy they discovered baked alive inside a 225-degree metal box one August afternoon, or the guy they found quietly weeping atop a large pile of rusty rubble after just a few years of salt-air cor-rosion. No, you dont want to use shipping contain-ers, local builders would warn others in the future. You heard what happened to that guy, didnt you?

We decided to leave such architectural adventures to those who dont break out in hives upon entering Home Depot.

Despite the fact that this was going to be a uniquely challenging project, Kristi and her business partner Thom Grant never made us feel bad for needing to keep it simple. Perhaps they could sense our desperation, or perhaps they saw our vision. Either

way, we knew in our hearts that Kristi and Thom were the ones who would one day bring our family back home.

We also called several local architects to see who was best equipped to design the simple yet modern home that we envisioned.

Again and again, the name Ed Rolen of Rolen Studio came up.

You mean the guy whos always doing those crazy kitesurfing jumps out on Grayton Beach? I asked. Yup, thats him. And people told me this project had Eds name written all over it.

They were right. While Ed designed sleek modern homes in other parts of the country, he had yet to find someone here in South Walton who craved the clean, simple lines that run through his portfolio. In Ed, we saw the perfect combination of vision, talent, and passion. In us, I think Ed saw an opportunity to nudge our communitys architectural style in a bold, new direction.

As we stood with Ed, Thom, and Kristi upon the dusty remains of our recently demolished home, I sketched out a rudimentary floor plan on a scrap of

paper. It had a master suite on one end, a wide-open great room and kitchen in the middle, two guestrooms on the other end, and a whole bunch of big windows gazing out across Choctawhatchee Bay.

Looks pretty simple, said Thom, looking over my scribble. Just a big rectangle up on pilings.

Yup, I grinned. Kinda like a boxcar.

FOR MORE INFORMATION ABOUT THE MODERN MINIMALIST PROJECT, VISIT 30A.COM/MODERN.

HART BUILDERSP.O. Box 6978Miramar Beach, Florida 32550(850) 586-1070www.facebook.com/HARTBuilders

ROLEN STUDIO MODERN RESIDENTIAL93 Dune Lakes Circle #D-201Santa Rosa Beach, Florida 32459(850) 814-2642www.rolenstudio.com

Thom Grant and Kristi Stevenson Ed

Documents

VIE Magazine January / February 2016