The Dome House⁠

I actually spend a LOT of time in Albert and Mickey Quinlan's home on Cave Point Drive. Maria and I were bookend friends for many years. We had a practice of sharing tea, on most days, at 4:00. Many conversations ensued, but one or two stuck out in my mind. The story of the Dome House is one of them.

On a cold Wisconsin afternoon, I sat at the table with Maria Quinlan and her father, Al, for a cup of tea in their beachside home, in Door County. On this day, he pulled out an EGG and set it on the table. He said "Girls, what can you tell me about an egg?" and we replied, like any teenager would: We said, "I dunno". 

He really wanted to hear our answer, so keenly interested, Al asked again. Acquiescing, we attempted to answer again saying “it came from a chicken”, “you could eat it”, “it would crack if you dropped it”, and “you could eat it hard boiled”, etc... You know, all of the regular egg stuff.  He was giddy and smiling and seemed to enjoy each of our answers, although he gingerly let us know that they were not what he was fishing for.  And although sitting in a chair at the head of the table, in a commanding position, he kept doing this nervous thing of almost standing up, and then sitting back down, in excitement.  I couldn’t figure that out at first. Honestly, we didn't know what the big deal was about eggs. We looked at each other, and looked back at Maria's dad, and then looked back at each other, continuously throughout the ensuing conversation.

Then, after we laid bare our egg knowledge, Al talked about how easy it could be to break one. Ok. Got it… And then he said, "Do you know that an egg, provided that it is placed on one end properly, can bear an incredible amount of weight?"

We didn't know that. He went on and on about the weight bearing structure of nature's artform, the egg.  We listened and learned.  Now we were in on the secret of the egg!

⁠He then wanted us to “try to not break it.” We didn't really want to take him up on the idea of trying to break the egg by placing it on the table and trying to push on it for two reasons.  One, we probably would have to clean it up if it broke and two, he wouldn't let us know if the egg he was holding was hard boiled or raw.  So we didn't test his theory out, even though he really wanted us to.  In my mind, I saw the egg breaking, and I knew from our shared glances that Maria saw the egg breaking too. Oh, we believed his schtick about "egg strength", but neither one of us was going to go as far as testing it out , right then and there.  Too messy.  

So the conversation moved on to talking about the ground.  The ground? I failed to see the continuity but played along... What about the ground? ”Girls, what do you know about the temperature under the ground?”

In reply we clarified a bit, by asking,  "Do you mean the ground, as in the center of the earth?"  Not waiting for his answer, and feeling quite smart at the moment, we both reported that the center of the earth was super-duper hot. Well, THAT was a good answer! But that was not the direction that this conversation was being directed, so we sat back in our chairs again, enjoyed the tea, and listened. Then we fielded a few more seemingly aimless questions about frost, preservation, perhaps some Eskimos or the Swedish, I cant recall exact.

⁠Maria and I were accustomed to similar question and answer sessions, especially during tea time, so I personally, didn't think that this conversation was THAT different than any other.   Although, once we started into this particular tea time, I must admit that we noticed that the excitement of this conversation couldn't keep Al sitting in the chair.  I sensed that this was going to be a big discussion. 

This is what I think, 40 years later. Al taught me to be a critical thinker. He taught me that our opinions, as young people, mattered. That was the purpose of many of these question and answer sessions. I always tried to answer the question, but usually had NEVER thought about the question that was posed to me before, so I responded with the first thing that came to mind! That method of conversation was very refreshing to me as the evening news just told you stuff-take it or leave it. Al would draw out what we didn’t know by asking us a bunch of questions, then listen to us as we fielded the questions, and then share ways to look at situations from different angles. Consequently we started to develop our own opinions. As young people, we held our opinions, the opinions that we had a hand in formulating, in a fairly high regard. We had developed a background of informed thinking, to build upon. But, on this day, the discussion was not to teach US about something that we should think about, rather, it was to share with us something that HE had learned.

We watched as he repeatedly wanted to stand up, by bracing himself on the arms of the chair to rise, only to flop back down into a sitting position. My mom would call that being “antsy”. Each time he did that, I thought - we thought - that the conversation was over, but when he flopped back down, we knew the conversation wasn’t over. We continued as “all-in” participants of the question and answer game. Honestly, what was it that couldn't keep Al sitting in the chair, as Maria and I aimlessly fumbled the answers to the incoming questions? It seemed like we were striking out. 

⁠Side note here: This is where I am amazed, because I can remember this day as clearly as yesterday.  I can see where I was sitting, and I can see where Maria is sitting, and I can see Al and see the egg sitting on the long, long, table, to his left side.  I am thankful that this memory lingered in my mind. I told it to Maria three years ago in my mom and dad's living room, recalling every detail, and I am not a photographic memory sort of gal!  Maria told me to write it down, so here it is.

The topic of dirt followed the egg conversation. “Girls, remember feeling the cool, cold dirt or sand when we dug a hole on the beach or the dirt in a garden?

"Yes" , we can.

“What can you tell me about dirt?”

At this point, I have to apologize to all of my hard working science teachers, because we had "nothing" on the topic of dirt!  My mind was blank.. what could one say about dirt? I think Maria said, “ You tell us about dirt,” or something to that effect. Al told us that there was a constant temperature that occurs a few feet down. I apologize for not remembering the depth, but I think 6 feet or less. Case in point: The earth is cool below the surface.

What does dirt have to do with an egg? Now today, I know why he was asking this series of questions. It was a natural progression of logic to him. But on that day, the conclusions that we extracted from the correct answers were ambiguous to us, albeit a bit intriguing. ⁠Al Quinlan had a big smile, and he was smiling ear to ear at this point. And we, of course, were wondering what could make a person so happy when considering cool dirt and eggs.

We could see that the time was ripe for Al’s big reveal.

He explained that he wanted to build a house in the shape of two eggs, placed into the side of a perfect sand dune (across the street and down a ways). The egg structure would be so strong that you could put a layer of topsoil on top of the domes! Topsoil on an egg shaped house? What? Say what?  No, I had never thought or had heard of that.

The next obvious (sic) question was  "What would you plant on the topsoil, girls?"  He mentioned maybe having my dad put the topsoil there, on his bulldozer, but I don't think that ever happened, as I think that the topsoil was wheel barreled onto the structure. Besides, the idea and trust of the weight of my dad’s bulldozer, on top of an egg house with dirt on it? No.

I just smiled that little polite smile at the adult who was talking, what I felt was a bit "out there".  Thank you mom for teaching me that decorum. 

⁠
Anyway, Maria and I thought that grass, ferns and flowers should be planted on top of the egg-shaped house mounds. Then he mentioned, "Why not TREES?"  and that blew our minds!  Plant trees on top of a House? Say What?   That's what he wanted to do! There it was! Build a house in the shape of two upside-down eggs, put dirt on it, plant TREES on it and live there.   He had a drawing.  He flipped the piece of paper over.  We were sitting too far away to see it clearly, but I still see it. I think he referred to the house as “The Mounds” at that conjuncture.

Excitedly, he he talked on and on about a wine cellar, located in between the two egg shapes, connecting the mounds, because wine likes to be cool. He lost me there, as we were about 14 years old at the time, and we couldn't see the wonder in cool wine! Heck, I didn’t even know what a wine cellar was!

There were other ideas that I didn’t hear. AL was rambling on and on, so excited. My attention drifted, and at that point the sound of the conversation turned into the soundtrack of a Charlie Brown cartoon when his teacher enters the room and says “Blaaa-ba blaaa, bla blaaaaaa...” in adult speak, and the kid in us just tuned out for a bit.

And that is what it sometimes is to be young. For instance when he said, “Come on girls, let’s pull some screens” when he was creating his Fine Art serigraph prints or when my mom said, “Come on girls, I want to show you what the bread dough looks like when it is perfect to bake”. Now, I would do anything to be there, present in that moment. But when you are young, the energy is just not always flowing in the right direction, because it is flowing freely in ALL directions simultaneously. Sometimes, when I said no to opportunities, I knew I should have gone for it though. In behalf of our youthful spirit though, we must rejoice in what we DID show up for, present in the moments. What a joy it is to be young.

Back to the story. Where did I leave off? “Blaa - blaa, blaaa, bla” … “cool wine cellar” you say? Ok.

Eventually, Al knew that he had lost us a bit on the details that didn’t pertain to a kid. So, he then spoke of the possibility of not needing a refrigerator!  Well, THAT- I could relate to.  I thought he was ONTO something like the good old days. You see, I HAD been in a root cellar and in a basement where sauerkraut was fermented!   I was back in the game.  What did we think of THAT, he asked?  Resorting back to a teenage response that matched our previous answer of "I dunno" we both said "Cool"!  Pun intended, I think- and we laughed and laughed.

I asked if he was really going to build a house like that and live underground?  And he said “Yes, absolutely”.  He had the land and he tried to explain the location in adult talk, by telling us of turns in the road and of sand hills facing a certain ordinal, and it all went over my head again. But, make no mistake. The house was already built you see? He had already built the house in his mind.

Later, I would keep pace with the development of this idea.  I saw drawings, and we talked about his plans over the next few years. I saw the Crash & Bash Construction picture in the paper and smiled.  I wish that I would have stopped by during construction, but didn't. I moved away. Long ago. 

Now, a uniquely designed home and art studio is nestled into a sand dune on Cave Point Drive. It has reached its realization and has gone beyond the original dream. The Dome House is still a private residence, but the owners welcome the community in, from time to time, for special events.

⁠So that is my story of the first time that Maria and I heard about her father, Al Quinlan's, plan to build, what is now referred to as, "The Dome House".  I believe that we were one of the first to hear of his plans, as it was much more about the inception of the idea than the logistics of building the place. 

As an artist myself, even back in the day, I had the intuition to see an exciting idea in its infancy: the research, the concept, the beauty of innovation, the IDEA of an IDEA, that was ahead of it's time for Door County, Wisconsin, in the 1970's.  I believe it was the excitement that filled the room, as Al Quinlan shared the premise of the concept for a house, that he was sure would work, that imprinted in my mind, and allowed me to remember so much of the conversation to this day!   It was like watching a little kid that found a new puppy that he could keep!  Some folks reach for the stars. This project was about digging in.  I am happy that the home has returned to the family.

⁠I recorded this story, for you, Maria Quinlan Farber.
Thank you for ALWAYS being your authentic, beautiful, self.

I tried to record this story for the first time, on Dawn Lindsley-Goodban’s Facebook page, but I exceeded the character limit by several thousand characters! Dawn knows several people who helped to build The Dome House back in the day. Dawn, an amazing photographer, posted some Dome House vintage photos on FB from now and then. Her post, on August 12, 2021, was the inspiration for the telling of this story, at this specific time. The post reply format is also the reason for the way that I started writing the few lines that have transformed into this short story! I was reaching out to those who had a hand in it.

You see, I have always been a fan of two other artists, named Christo and Jeanne-Claude, who remind me of Al and Mickey Quinlan. They were Artists that involved the community, sometimes the World, in their art.

I feel that all who helped this come to fruition share the same spirit.
It’s the spirit of “What if we all came together and (write your answer here)? ”

Here is a link to the official website of The Dome House
https://www.domehouseart.org/history-of-the-house