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Torch the Porch
Questioning the sanctity of the stoop
by Ekem Amonoo Lartson
If you are indoors, and you have a desire to be outdoors, please proceed and enjoy of it. However, be warned—the architectural element known as the open-sided porch, if you have one, (a.k.a. the veranda, and commonly called a porch) is not equipped to serve as your happy medium between the outdoors and indoors. A porch cannot afford you the protection offered by being indoors, nor does it serve as an optimum way for you to enjoy the pleasures of the outdoors. A roofed porch sans screening or glass encasing is simply a wasted space.
The outdoors can be vexing—recall flies, mosquitoes, rainstorms, and very cold and hot weather. An open-sided porch does not provide comfort from the aforementioned pesky items. A driving rain may require you to abandon the safety of a porch; intense heat may similarly drive you indoors if you are absent soothing shade; and if you were enjoying some food under the protection of a porch, would you not be entertaining a host of flies? An open-sided porch is a tertiary architectural element. It must be relegated to the bottom of anyone’s list when it comes to creating an indoor outward space.
The false sense of protection that an open-sided porch provides should be considered blasphemous and its rate of return on your investment must be considered downright paltry. The open-sided porch, as such, does not live up to its stature as a place to enjoy the outdoors while being indoors. At its worst, it is a space squandered. At its best, it’s an indulgence.
In some societies, the open-sided porch was once the spine of a community. It once had utility. The front porch, especially, was praised for affording you and your neighbors the opportunity to sit outside and enjoy the company of one another—a neighbor passing by could stop by and inquire of your welfare and you of theirs, thereby strengthening your community’s social fabric. Then came the suburbs and other such developments, human settlements beholden to the automobile, with their concomitant absence of sidewalks. Thereafter, the utility of the porch was stripped away, plundered. However, in a number of societies the porch still flourishes as an architectural feature, exhibiting resilience like a weed.
Why does the open-sided porch deserve such disrespect? Does not its continued presence in architecture warrant the least bit of deference? No! The open-sided porch is as benign as a jacket lapel. It is customary, its presence has become tradition; it is expected to be. Its absence may even arouse perplexity, but its presence, upon reflection, is certainly not useful. A homeowner can do without a porch. Like the lapel, the open-sided porch’s import is more ornamental than utilitarian. Indeed, architecture is strongly ornamental, but it is also a lot more than that. Architecture must be considered as an ultimate aesthetic and one of the fundamental branches of science. Architecture makes science an art, and vice-versa. It transcends ornament. The open-sided porch is certainly not one of architecture’s bright elements. The verdict on the open-sided porch can be summarized thus: the porch does not protect, as shelter must, from nature’s capriciousness. In the larger scheme of things, it is mere ornament. Relatively, it is without utility.
In the hierarchy of indoor-outward residential spaces, the screened-in porch reigns supreme. The glass-enclosed porch (a.k.a. the sunroom) follows suit and the open-sided, roofed porch (a.k.a. the verandah) is simply tertiary, even then doing battle with the open-to-the-sky type of porch (a.k.a. the terrace) for that honor. The following dictum therefore applies: a homeowner must not have a verandah without first having a sunroom; a homeowner must not have a sunroom without first having a screened-in porch.
Owing to its stature, the screened-in porch deserves a proper name, a title, although its name truly befits its utilitarian nature.
The virtues of the screened-in porch are innumerable when compared to the open-sided porch. It affords protection from flies and mosquitoes. It functions very well as an indoor-outward space. It affords its owner true shelter, when combined with a retractable screen—providing true respite from the rain and the scorching sun, perhaps even the cold.
Imagine a screened-in porch with a sampling of the following amenities: the aforementioned retractable screen, a hammock, several potted plants (some hanging, others situated about the floor), a swinging bench or rocking chair, a fan, a small dining area, a futon or even a daybed, an insect electro-light zapper (for backup), a tiny bookcase stocked with some of your favorite reads, and a stereo boom box, perhaps even a chime or bird feeder. Will this not make for the ideal domestic space, a space that will rival your kitchen and den as a primary residential space and do dual duty as your bedroom on cool, breezy nights? No doubt. The primacy of the screened-in porch should be extolled. It virtues should be self-evident to all.
The screened-in porch affords physical transparency; the sunroom does not. The sunroom’s transparency is one of impression. By default, the sunroom has to be climate controlled, the screened-in porch does not. The screened-in porch is of its climate. Providing no false expectations, it shelters as required; it provides outdoor access when needed; it is adaptable to a number of uses. The screened-in porch is simply a versatile architectural space.
The sunroom may have different climate control requirements than the rest of your house. When one considers that most rooms in a residence are fortified by insulation, the sunroom can be considered to be relatively bare to the elements. Often enough, the sunroom seems to have a renegade-type climate of its own. Perhaps the incongruous climate one may feel is subconscious rather than real. This subconscious need to have a uniform climate throughout one’s home will, therefore, be unmet—necessitating a different wardrobe for this pocket space in order for one to achieve comfort? A sunroom could easily turn into an alcove. It is an illusionary space (whereas the porch deludes its owner).
A terrace is most useful when it provides a view or access to a body of water—that is, supporting a fountain, providing a view to the ocean, existing alongside a pool or being an expansive wooden patio on the shores of a lake. A terrace requires some measure of grandeur. Most homes, as such, will not gracefully accommodate one, even the ostentatious (and flimsy) McMansions that dot America’s suburbs. (Grandeur, mind you, is a matter of taste, not scale.) A terrace also works when it is in the company of an ornate garden. Evidently, the terrace is a peacock.
Where does the backyard patio fit in this hierarchy? The patio is a different beast. It deserves little mention and the most minimal of thought. Often, it is an afterthought, a post-construction-phase accessory. Homeowners largely devise this space of their own volition. Devoid of architectural and aesthetic expertise and relying on emotional and impractical considerations, the homeowner (mainly in temperate climates) commissions a useless space that usually accommodates a grill and a garish set of outdoor furniture, and nothing much else. The patio mainly fulfills the desire to release one’s self on the outdoors once the cold season has subsided. It is a much admired escape hatch that quickly outlives its novelty and usefulness. Even the open-sided porch is more useful than the patio. Note, however, that the utility of a patio goes through the roof once it is sheltered and screened-in. Miraculously, it morphs into a screened-in porch.
Pitted against the majority of indoor outward spaces, the open-sided porch struggles for legitimacy. Its most useful sibling is the portico, a twin to the loggia—whereby it functions as a covered walkway alongside a primary structure. The open-sided porch, therefore, functions best as a transitory space. A stable space it is not. However, screen-in an open-sided porch and, like the patio, notice how its usefulness multiplies. It goes from an underutilized space to being one of the primary spaces in a residence.
An open-sided porch is simply a geriatric architectural idea. It needs a fresh orientation in residential architecture, otherwise its death must be courted. Absent a new meaning and purpose, schemes perpetuating the demise of the porch must be drawn-up; this article serves as one such scheme.
November 4, 2004 • Vol. 14, No. 45
© 2004 Metro Pulse
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