Shore calling: Michael Ryan's blank canvas is a spit of land on the Jersey shore

Residential Architect, July, 2002 by Meghan Drueding

When architect Michael Ryan spied a 1950s commercial building in the beach community of Loveladies, N.J., he knew he had to have it. He learned that the building s 80-year-old owner still went to the office every day, so he began to drop by once a week with coffee and pastries. "This was a really interesting man," says Ryan. "He was a local developer who wanted to make the area into an arts community. He gave no-interest home loans to artists and writers during the 1950s and '60s, and some of those families are still coming here."

After months of getting to know the developer, Ryan worked up the nerve to ask about renting the building for his newly formed architecture firm. The older man acquiesced, and soon Ryan and his staff of three were renovating the office. They moved in March 1989, leased the space for five years, and bought it in 1994. The firm, now six people strong, still occupies the building.

This focused, personal approach to getting the results he wants is still Ryan's hallmark. Each house he designs ends up a small gem, tailored exactly to the clients' needs and budget. Whether it's an oceanfront home on Long Beach Island, the 18-mile-long strip of land off New Jersey's southern coast that contains Loveladies, or a permanent residence farther inland, Ryan's attention to detail is borderline obsessive. "He knows every project inside and out," says Brian Smith, a Bucks County, Pa., builder who's worked with Ryan on several houses.

soup to nuts

Part of this meticulousness is simply Ryan's nature. It's also the consequence of the way he's set up his business. Michael Ryan Architects is an uncompromisingly full-service firm. He and his staff of interns design the projects. Then Ryan's wife, interior designer Randee Spelkoman, helps the clients choose finishes and furniture. The architects create much of the furniture themselves, and what they don't design, Spelkoman finds, buys, and resells to the client.

In fact, the firm purchases most of the nonstructural products that go into each home--from light fixtures to countertops to faucets--and resells them at an appropriate markup to the homeowners. By taking on the role of procurer, one that's usually reserved for the contractor and subcontractors, Ryan exerts complete control over the execution of his projects. "It makes things a little messy around here because we have to check everything in and sometimes store it at the office," he says. "You have to establish a system, and it does take time. But it saves time down the road because there are fewer mistakes and change orders. We're basically stripping out the subjectives." The method only applies to local projects--long-distance jobs necessitate a more typical supplier arrangement.

Contractors don't seem to mind the unusual process. "It's always a challenge," says Tom Tallon, a Long Beach Island builder who frequently teams with Ryan. "But the projects always turn out looking very good." And it can be cost-effective for clients, who benefit from Ryan and Spelkoman's experience in finding the best available prices. The firm makes enough money from the procedure that it doesn't have to charge a separate interior design fee. "It's one-stop shopping," says Barbara Kaplan, a suburban Philadelphia client for whom Ryan's firm designed a beach house in Loveladies. "You don't have to mediate between a third party and the architect."

Ryan's method of painstaking, comprehensive architecture also weeds out potential clients who may not want to take design as seriously as he does. That's all right with him. He limits the number of active projects to about 15. (Most of them are residences, but he does take on some light-commercial work.) The self-imposed cap enables him to keep the office small, which makes for a relaxed atmosphere.

on holiday

Relaxed atmospheres are even more important in the beach houses that make up a large percentage of Ryan's portfolio. Most of his vacation-home clients fit a similar demographic profile: They're empty-nester couples from Philadelphia, northern New Jersey, or New York City with grown children and possibly grandchildren. They still have active careers but are beginning to spend more time telecommuting rather than working in the office. Many opt to own a city apartment plus the beach house, rather than keep up the big suburban homes where they've raised their families. Their vacation homes must accommodate overnight guests and facilitate large parties and gatherings, but they also must suit the couple when it's just the two of them.

So Ryan makes a point of isolating the master suite from the children's and guest bedrooms. "It's like a really great one-bedroom apartment," he says of one master suite in an oceanfront residence. "The owners don't feel like they're rattling around in this big house." New beach houses by the firm average 4,000 square feet; Ryan often finds himself talking clients into smaller houses than they'd originally requested. "I try not to design a lot of 'dumb space,'" he says. "We usually make the bedrooms pretty small because you're not using them a lot when you're at the beach. We try to maximize the space in those rooms with built-in furniture."