Ever wonder about winning the big Powerball Lottery or having some long lost relative leave you a ridiculous amount of moolah? Imagine if someone said you can own and live in any structure you choose. Another caveat might be that you must choose some place you have actually seen. Well, I now know where my home would be......."The Fonthill" in Doylesville, PA.
Yes the concept of home as castle has been more than theory. Mr. Henry Mercer designed and built his own castle. Having made his fortune with a ceramic tile company as artist, designer and owner, he became quite wealthy. This was also enhanced by a benevolent aunt. The amassed fortune enabled him to build the castle and a museum. Fonthill took four years to build with reinforced concrete. Now we're talking floors, walls, ceilings, roofs and even most of the bookshelves are all concrete. To announce completion of his (and Rodney's) dream home, he built a large bonfire atop his creation to serve as a celebratory beacon.
Susan also considered this a contender as her fantasy home; glad we can agree on where we will be spending our golden years whiling away the years in any one of our glorious rooms (44) found in our 19,000 sq ft of wondrous home. Note: there are ten bathrooms and 18 fireplaces; perfect for guests. Note two: The house also has a vast collection of ceramic tiles from around the world built into the walls and ceilings.
You may wonder how this architectural wonder fits into the Oddasee ideal. Well in addition to it being truly unique, Mr. Mercer could actually be considered an outsider artist. He studied archaeology and had a law degree but no art training. He learned ceramic arts almost by accident and with little more than devotion, curiosity and an impressive work ethic he created The Monrovian Tile Works. With the soul of a visionary and large bank account, he created a sculpture that served as a home and museum that houses part of his massive collection - The Mercer Museum will be covered in Day 57 (part two).
So, it is with a certain sense of relief and clarity, we can now sleep knowing what will surely be our home and studio. Please stay on our email list. We'll be having one heck of a house warming. Also watch for the bonfire we will be using to announce our dream come true.
Love and tiles,
Rodney and Susan
Ps. The side story:
Whenever possible we avoid the "group tour" found in many museums. If given the chance, we opt for the self-guided option. On occasion there is no choice if one wants access to the museum. The Winterhur was one such venue. Alas so was The Fonthill. There was also the added restriction of no interior photography.
After sitting in a small room to watch a short video with another couple, our "guide" came in with "Anyone ready..... for.... a.... tour?" This was our introduction to Mary S. At this point I must try to describe this curious creature (see last photo). She was likely a volunteer. She was passionate about the history, the castle and Mr. Mercer (I lost track of her use of his name at 87 mentions in the first half hour). Now the most bizarre and squirmy aspect of this
unavoidable aspect of the experience was her voice. Not only the pitch but also the cadence. Imagine Truman Capote meets Aunt Bea of Mayberry fame and add in a tinge of Little Richard; all with an incredibly frustrating habit of mid-sentence long pauses. Oh...my...gawd! Within minutes we were not sure if a suicide pact was in order or murder in the castle. Then there were the sing-songy affected statements like. "These --- red--- tiiiles --- are called------- red tiiiiiiiiiles." Please just kill me --- kill me now. If not for the overwhelming magic of this place, there would surely have been an in--ci--Dent! She was sweet but her syrupy delivery was just too much.... oy!
Note: you will find a few interior photos. After we allowed to take photos outside on the upper balcony, the Nikon was out so we went into the subversive photo mode. R. would linger behind as S. would distract our Museum Sherpa with questions and the resultant noise that disguised the clicks. The pics are a sad representation of the rooms within The Fonthill.
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