wall of windows and a raised ceiling, a room that seems twice as vast as the small house itself. Indeed it is the public space for everything a family would do: A long dining table juts out from one wall next to a tiny open kitchen; a built-in sofa could seat guests while concealing storage. There is still room for more seating clusters, a cantilevered fireplace and perhaps the fine piano Wright thought every home should have. It is also large enough that a professor could have a classful of students over. Long before any builder’s marketing brochure, Wright called it a gathering space. Off to the corner are a small bathroom and two bedrooms. Even the master bedroom is smaller than today’s preferences, yet each has floor-to-ceiling windows that enlarge the space by letting in the outside. They now are furnished with benches and video screens for visitors, but your mind can import an IKEA model room and imagine putting our gluttony for space on a diet. Even the college’s president feels the personal appeal of its scale, the beautiful woodwork, the tiny spots of color. “I love the size of the main room and the small bedrooms,” Kerr says. “It’s comforting. It just feels peaceful: No clutter. People’s personalities would be the focus. I could live here.’’ To bring this old plan to life took generous donations — the structure is named for Tampa alumnus and former trustee Dr. Robert Sharp and his wife, Peggy — and several years of effort by a team of architects, masons, carpenters, glassmakers and roofers. “The most gratifying aspect was our collective abilities to realize the same principles Wright conceived and refined throughout his career … and prove that it is possible to apply them using 21st century building technology,” according to architect Jeffrey Baker, who directed the building project. He has a keen sense of history and an appreciation for both technology and manual craftsmanship. “Everyone pulled out all the stops to ensure this would
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APRIL 2014