I have lived in Provincetown, Massachusetts, for nearly 25 years. Among other pursuits, I’ve been a whale researcher, a naturalist and environmental educator, and a potter, painter, faux finisher, tile maker, and white-line printmaker. I’ve also been a sailor and a tinkerer (but never a tailor, thief, or Indian chief). In 2004, Seal Press published one of my stories in Going Alone, an anthology of women’s adventure tales. Over the years I have built wooden dinghies, made puppets for a professional puppetry company, and created a series of sculptures with motorized elements. The most famous was a wearable lighthouse, complete with revolving beams, which I donned to celebrate the successful relocation of Highland Light in Truro, MA. The AP wire photo taken of the two lighthouses made the rounds of newspapers across the country. I continue to affirm that this was not my official fifteen minutes of fame.

From preschool days of blanket-and-sofa-cushion-forts to the present, I’ve been fascinated by architecture. My tastes have been omnivorous: tree houses, long houses and houseboats, yurts, hogans and vardos, follies and castles, flying buttresses, mansard roofs, Doric columns and corbelled arches. As children, my sisters and I attempted to recreate a sod hut built by paternal great uncles who homesteaded in Saskatchewan, but we abandoned the project at knee-height when we ran out of energy and usable lawn. In college I spent three summers excavating 4 th century B.C. buildings in the ancient marketplace, or Agora, of Athens, Greece. When I realized that my small stature would always make me a prime candidate for being lowered into ancient wells, I reluctantly abandoned thoughts of an archaeology career. However, I continue to be involved with historic buildings. I currently serve on the Board of Directors of the Peaked Hill Trust; a nonprofit organization dedicated to the preservation and continued use of dune shacks located within the Cape Cod National Seashore. I spend many hours each year maintaining and explaining these tiny structures, which have served as retreats for a host of writers, artists, naturalists, and local characters for over a century.

At last, in “Poetic Spaces”, I’ve been able to combine my artistic urges and my architectural impulses, building small, one-of-a-kind, “backyard dream houses”. Since no two are the same, each has its own personality and design possibilities, and I love the mix of intellectual and creative challenges that this brings. I have always been more of a Renaissance woman (some might say dilettante) than a specialist.

As I design and build, I try to remember the feeling I’ve had in special places I’ve encountered, and I try to recreate that feeling, capturing the essence and sometimes the specific details of the place: maybe a ladder and a trapdoor opening into a loft… a perfect place to read, contemplate, or hide from the world (or younger siblings); perhaps a front porch to look out onto the view. I love the magic of secret compartments, small spaces, and things that are not what they seem. I view my structures as “functional architectural fantasies,” an interactive art form. Something wonderful happens inside a tiny, well-crafted building. Reality and perception are skewed; every activity that takes place inside has an element of enchantment to it. I hope that others will spend many hours occupying my little houses as well as looking at them. I love the fact that they then become a dialogue between creator and user about what makes a building magical.