THERE’S A COMMON belief among many longtime New Yorkers that, in order to love the city, you have to leave it regularly. For the minimalist residential and commercial architect Robert Finger, 57, that’s long meant escaping to his family’s Cape Cod cottage, built circa 1918 in the dunes along the Atlantic Ocean in Wellfleet, Mass., which he first visited when he was a month old. Every summer, his parents and two older sisters would drive up from Bethesda, Md., for “two months of never wearing shoes747 live,” he recalls over a late breakfast on the house’s weathered gray deck. “ ‘Sunblock’ wasn’t a word I understood, and I remember the feeling at the end of summer: Putting on proper clothes felt so harsh.”
ImageThe original homeowner, Finger’s great-aunt Adelaide Newhall, painted portraits and landscapes that hang above shelves filled with gifts from friends and houseguests, including a sepia photograph of a Newhall painting in Wellfleet, 1970s toys from Finger’s childhood and games and puzzles from family members, some dating back to the 1940s.Credit...Chris MottaliniImageIn the absence of paved roads, paths trod by animals and people formed organically over time on the grounds.Credit...Chris MottaliniAfter inheriting the home two decades ago from his mother, who inherited it from her own mother three decades before that, he seeks that barefoot feeling whenever he can, much to the surprise of the people with whom he works. His employees sometimes ask whether the un-air-conditioned place is uncomfortable — “miserable” is their word of choice — to which he says, “Yeah.” His clients, many of whom are Manhattan real estate developers with more comfortable second homes, don’t believe him when he describes the cabin or shows them pictures. “They have an impression of me as someone who does exquisite, refined work, and they see what looks like clutter everywhere,” he says. “But I need a balance, a separation — that’s why you get out of the city so often.”
ImageIn the living room, a pine cube table by Finger and, beside the original fireplace with 19th-century andirons, vintage corduroy pillows from the ’70s on a CH163 sofa by Hans Wegner for Carl Hansen & Son upholstered in Lontano outdoor fabric by Élitis. The carpet is Persian.Credit...Chris MottaliniThe shack was all but invented for escaping society’s expectations. It was constructed more than a century ago by Finger’s great-aunt Adelaide Newhall, who after graduating from Smith in 1906 decided that, instead of getting married or having children, she would become a teacher and artist. When she was growing up in Worcester, Mass., her family would take a summer rental nearby: This region, known as the Outer Cape, is mostly protected national seashore, meaning that the only view you have from the house is of a high, seagrass-covered sand embankment leading down to a chilly ocean that, despite the increasing presence of sharks, is more or less your own. Newhall chose the spot because it was ideal for creating the plein-air paintings that established her alongside her teachers Charles Hawthorne and Jerry Farnsworth as part of the Cape Cod School of Art, whose naturalist folk works have recently become desirable in certain American collecting circles.
ImageIn a bedroom, paintings by Newhall as well as the outsider artist Victor Joseph Gatto, and a collection of rocks and shells on an antique chest of drawers.Credit...Chris MottaliniImageIn the lofted bedroom, a portrait study by Newhall beside a red Min bed from Design Within Reach, with a quilt from Remer’s family and an antique runner from a flea market on a floor first painted blue-green in the 1940s or early ’50s.Credit...Chris MottaliniWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.
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