Schoolhouse Rocks

ON THE SECOND FLOOR of a converted schoolhouse in Cambridge, Jessica Lander sleeps in a tree. A plywood forest shades her lofted bed, below which hangs a sturdy purple hammock. Sculpted blond wooden trees soar above her twin mattress, lending the entire room an Alice in Wonderland feel. And that’s exactly the mood she was going for when she designed the space—at age 11.

The arboretum idea was inspired by a homework assignment to plan a dream bedroom. Taking notes from sculptor Gualverio Michelangeli, whose woodcut animals she had admired on a family trip to Orvieto, Italy, Jessica got to work. Two years later, what began as a class project became a reality. Little did she know she and her fantasy bed would eventually land right back at its point of conception—her old elementary school.

Jessica’s parents, Eric and Lori Lander, bought the former Fayerweather Street School in 1999. They were already intimately familiar with it: All three Lander children (Jessica, 18, Daniel, 14, and David, 11) went or go to Fayerweather, a progressive independent school for grades pre-K through 8. The building had been on the market since 1993, when the school outgrew its walls and was eyeing a new location on Concord Avenue. Initially, developers swooped in with plans to transform the classrooms into condos, an idea the neighborhood opposed. The Landers, who lived nearby in Central Square, stood by for seven years while other offers were placed and rejected.

“Finally, I said to Eric, ‘Should we buy it?’” Lori, an artist, remembers. “I told him we could make it into a great contemporary house. We called [Cambridge architect] Maryann Thompson—our kids were in preschool together—and said, ‘Can you come over and tell us whether we’re crazy or not?’”

Thompson and the Landers spent several enthusiastic hours walking through the schoolhouse, envisioning a four-level house filled with lots of light and space. The obvious challenge lay in turning a concrete institution into a warm, welcoming residence appropriate for a family of five. In the end, after receiving a reasonable cost estimate from Newton-based Marvel Construction, the Landers made an offer.

Today, only whispers of the old school remain. Of course, there’s the original third-floor gymnasium/basketball court. But at first glance, a visitor might not know that hundreds of adolescents once roamed the halls of this airy, modern house. Just a few subtle interior details—overhead exposed piping, a concrete stairwell—hint at its former incarnation. As is exemplified by Jessica’s bed and those of her brothers (they followed suit with giant-tree and castle lofts of their own), the space has taken on a new life: one that’s awash in creativity, color, and unique design.

THE LANDERS HIRED a crack team, headed by architect Thompson and contractor Marvel, to completely gut and redesign the interior. Through a process that took 13 months, nearly every indoor wall was knocked down and all the electricity and plumbing replaced; the only schoolhouse rooms that remain relatively untouched are the gym and the third-floor space that now serves as Lori’s studio. Gray concrete outer walls and floors that couldn’t be torn down for structural reasons were covered in wood or tile or painted softer, more appealing hues.

On the outside of the house, concrete walls were covered with smooth mahogany slats, while existing brick remains exposed. A slate and riverstone outer walkway continues beneath the Landers’ front door and across their foyer, culminating in a trickling Japanese-style fountain. The dark gray stone combined with the deep-red oak floors sets the tone for the house’s contemporary, clean style.

“We wanted to blur the boundaries between outside and inside,” says Thompson. “The stone walkway makes for a nice transition, and the fountain creates a cleansing effect. There’s this whole idea of unfolding into the house—a way of getting away from the world and into a sanctuary.”

The Zen-like atmosphere is pierced by vibrant paintings—Lori’s own—of Balinese women. The paintings line the hallway leading to the kitchen and living room. Her canvases are a constant throughout the house, infusing various spaces with bold brushstrokes and bright depictions of international market scenes. Much as the slate ties together inside and out, Lori’s art acts as a conduit between rooms. “It’s no accident that the color scheme of the house is golds and oranges,” Lori says. “Those are the colors I love to paint with. When we chose materials like woods, stones, and fabrics, we chose them in colors right out of my paintings.” In some cases, entire sections of the house, such as the entryway, were designed around particular pieces of art.

The result is four floors decorated in warm golds accented by quick slashes of deep blues or rays of fierce yellows. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the cavernous living room, which is decorated with orange furniture and five of Lori’s representational canvases. A two-story concrete wall with small windows was replaced by massive 18-foot-tall mahogany-framed plates of glass that let in so much sunshine that the Landers rarely need to turn on the heat. The area’s original concrete ceiling was demolished to create a vaulted space interrupted only by an indoor wraparound second-floor mahogany balcony. A cluster of narrow hanging lamps from Wolfers Lighting descend from above.

While Lori did most of the decorating herself, she worked with Newton interior designer Dorothea Buckler, with whom she spent time shopping at Mohr & McPherson, Shoomine, and the Boston Design Center. While aesthetics were a factor, the main concern for Lori and Buckler was function. “Our criteria for furniture was that it be able to get walked on, spilled on, slept on, and made into pillow forts,” Lori says. “It needed to be indestructible.” Two oversized couches from Shoomine covered in a thick, stain-proof orange fabric still look brand new.

Throughout the living room is an eclectic mix of old and new furniture and accessories. Much of the Landers’ décor comes from frequent family trips to places such as Bali, Mexico, China, Tanzania, and Japan. Bookcases are filled with foreign artifacts—a heavy Chinese metal necklace, an intricate batik stamp from Indonesia—as well as pottery by Cambridge-based artist Judy Motzkin.

LORI AND ERIC LANDER met as sophomores at Princeton. Eric was first smitten during a constitutional law class they shared. “She was passionate about justice. I knew instantly she was for me,” he recalls. Lori, however, was happy to just be friends, and they spent two amiable years before Eric made his move. “We were having lunch senior year,” says Lori, when her future husband broached the subject. “I told him I wasn’t really interested in going out with him. Eric said that was fine. He wasn’t interested in going out with me either—he just intended to marry me.”

The curious mix of romance and practicality that brought the couple together is evident in both their lifestyle and their house. Eric is the founding director of the Broad Institute of MIT and Harvard and helped complete the Human Genome Project in 2003, which successfully unraveled the human DNA sequence. Most mornings at 5:30, the eminent scientist can be found, not in his home office, but sitting in a deep armchair on the indoor balcony reading papers. Here he can keep in touch with the family—all the bedrooms are on the same floor—while he works.

Lori spends most of each day in her third-floor office/studio. This space, the former afterschool activities classroom, is one of the two the Landers left nearly as it was. Thick red pipes run along a fir-peaked ceiling punctuated with one large skylight that bathes the studio in light. A small kitchenette is tucked along the east wall; the concrete floor is splattered with paint, and two loft areas leave plenty of room for the children to lounge and watch Lori paint.

In fact, nearly every room in the converted schoolhouse was designed to be all-inclusive and communal. Perhaps the best example is the main kitchen, a large, well-lit first-floor space adjacent to the living room. Like all the downstairs spots, this one appears completely open; in fact, all the rooms can be closed off by sliding doors made from Sumiglass (glass panes sandwiching a layer of rice paper). The Landers chose Sumiglass over frosted glass because it lets in light but doesn’t show fingerprints or smudges.

Designed by Kochman, Reidt, and Haigh in Stoughton, the kitchen is both functional and comfortable. A large granite island sits in the center, abutted by a freestanding curved wooden table. “The idea was that Eric and I could cook here and the kids could sit close by and do their homework,” Lori says. Stainless steel Sub-Zero appliances line the north wall. “We wanted lots of storage,” Lori says as she opens a walk-in pantry disguised as a cupboard. “We have so much going on, but really like the spare look. We don’t like clutter.” To wit, the kitchen contains a freestanding cherry bookcase neatly lined with cookbooks.

The Landers spend a lot of time cooking—everything from Moroccan to Mexican to Japanese—and chatting in the kitchen. One of their favorite activities is staging Iron Chef competitions with guests and each other. For her 18th birthday, Jessica invited a group of Concord Academy friends over for such a challenge. The teenagers scoured the city for ingredients before reuniting in the kitchen to slice, chop, and cook. Every surface was soon covered with food. “The kids made homemade pasta, salmon dishes, and mango crêpes,” Lori says. “It was a huge mess, but what a blast!”

UP A SET OF INDUSTRIAL, split-level stairs—which, along with the railings, are original to the space—the second floor rooms are anchored around a wraparound hallway that also serves as an indoor balcony. At one end is Jessica’s room. On the other, past hanging Chinese artwork and mounted Venetian masks, are Daniel’s and David’s. About 20 feet beyond the boys’ rooms, the hall becomes a wider mahogany balcony suspended over the living room. The floor in front of Jessica’s bedroom is composed of mahogany panels that extend out to one of the house’s five outdoor decks. Thompson created this look as another way to blend the notion of inside and out. Another of her inventive ideas occurs on the steel and mahogany banister outside the master bedroom, which curves off the main corridor. “There’s a lot of talking in the family,” says Thompson, “and I thought this could be a spot the Landers might lean against as they chat and look out the wall of windows.” So while the rest of the house’s railings have flat surfaces, these are ergonomically correct and curved to support leaning limbs.

Behind another nearly floor-to-ceiling Sumiglass sliding door is Lori and Eric’s room. The centerpiece is a king-size Japanese-inspired bed made by local carpenter William Brouwer. Above its cream linens are a series of paintings—one, a lush summer garden scene, by Lori, circa 1979, and the others by the Landers’ friend Ilana Manolson. Two well-used gold armchairs and an orange couch from Crate & Barrel sit opposite the bed.

When he was five, David, youngest of the Lander children, followed in his siblings’ footsteps and designed a bed. His is a single, exaggerated tree. As in the other kids’ bedrooms, the bed seems to fill much of the room, but doesn’t overshadow a most whimsical detail: a secret passageway. “In our old house, David would wake up in the middle of the night and come into our room,” Lori says. “The distances in the new house are much bigger, so Eric came up with the idea of having a trap door connecting David’s room to ours. He used it constantly.” The tiny square opening leads straight through Lori and Eric’s walk-in closet and into their bedroom. These days it’s used mostly by the children’s friends during birthday parties.

The one space that needed no redesigning is the spacious, unlikely third-floor gym. “Wait until you see it!” Thompson exclaims. “We refinished the floor and fixed some windows, but the rest is exactly how it was as part of the school. It’s absolutely gorgeous.” Daniel and David both say the gym is their favorite room. And it’s no wonder. “Even if it’s a rainy day,” David explains, “I can still play sports.”

Stained fir slats form the giant room’s peaked ceiling while nearly floor-to-ceiling windows let in an abundance of sunshine. Basketball hoops hang at each end of the court. In a small bathroom tucked into the west wall, a silver water fountain hints at the gym’s former life. Concrete floors and walls buffer the noise, so a boisterous ballgame rarely disturbs Lori or Eric, whose offices are both next door. The kids—and plenty of their friends—spend a lot of time in the gym playing basketball and touch football, while Eric and Lori often join in for an afterdinner game of softball. Last year, Daniel’s classmates formed a basketball team, and the Landers hosted practice sessions on their personal home court.

THE LANDERS DON’T BELIEVE in television. Or, more specifically, commercial television. Except for the occasional baseball or football game (and, of course, Iron Chef), the family’s sole TV set goes unused. Unlike so many modern kids, the younger Landers would rather entertain themselves. The two boys love sports and are constantly in the gym while their sister works in the basement art room.

Artistic chaos reigns supreme in this wild subterranean space. The former classroom still has an industrial look with its exposed ceiling pipes and white concrete walls. But the Landers have given it a flavor of their own: Glass sliding doors highlight a long, sturdy table covered with every imaginable art supply. Paints, colored pencils, colored paper, cardboard, glues, seeds, brushes, and printing ink lie in haphazard piles. Artwork hangs on walls above stained green floors polyurethaned with glitter, paper scraps, and ribbons, a project Lori and the children delighted in doing together. Marching across the top of the north wall are collections of each child’s outgrown shoes.

Lori might be the most experienced artist in the family, but others are catching on fast. In February, Jessica held a solo exhibit of her handmade books at the Concord Free Public Library. Last month, her work was part of a group show at the same town’s art association. “I’m inspired by my family’s travels and the cultures we visit,” she says. “I’ve done books on markets and spices and oral traditions and temple offerings.” A single panel in one of her intricately illustrated books set on bound paper can take a few hours, and Jessica admits she spends much of her free time downstairs.

The basement living/music room is full of exotic-looking furniture and accessories including several gamelans—Balinese musical instruments made from bamboo and brass—and batik side tables from Mohr & McPherson. Curiously, the instruments stand on low wooden stools. “It floods down here,” Lori explains (the second reason Fayerweather needed new headquarters). “We wanted to make it pretty, but kept it cheap in case we had to replace everything.” Though the Landers laid new drainage pipes and installed pumps in the backyard, about a month after they moved in the entire basement was wet. Lori and Eric called their “dream contractor,” Andy Marvel, who raised the floor. It hasn’t flooded since, but, just in case, the lower third of the basement walls are coated with rough concrete swimming-pool material.

Clearly, the young Landers are no strangers to foreign customs and cultures and often accompany their parents on business trips and vacations to far-off destinations. Fifth-grader David reminisces about the time he and Eric went to Amsterdam and bicycled the canals. Jessica talks about a recent trip to Trinidad, where she worked with conservationists to protect leatherback sea turtles. And in the upstairs kitchen, a trio of photographs shows each child shaking hands with the Dalai Lama.

Yet despite all their worldliness, the children still needed time to adjust to living where they once learned. “At first, living in my old school was a little weird,” says 14-year-old Daniel. His younger brother David remembers thinking the school seemed huge for a house. And Jessica, the oldest, says, “I hated the idea of moving. I have very fond memories of my old house. I remember my friends thinking it would be weird—they kept asking me which classroom my room was going to be in.” (It lies approximately in the former school library and Spanish room.) Yet now that the children are settled in, they can’t say enough about their home. “I came to love the house more and more,” adds Jessica. “It’s pretty easy to forget it ever was a school.”