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Sunday, Nov 22, 2009
Your first glimpse of Hiddenbrooke features four enormous satellite dishes and a radio tower, nestled in a green valley next to an oblivious troop of grazing cows from the adjacent farm. The second thing you see upon arrival in Hiddenbrooke is an endless stretch of the community's semi-identical greige tract homes, squeezed in close. "The Village" is a cluster of 101 homes behind a small stone gate, wedged between the similarly gated communities of St. Andrews, The Heights and The Masters. From a distance, these communities look mostly the same.
Only 31 of the Village homes have been built so far (with 30 sold, and seven actually occupied), and the area is still busy with tractors and bulldozers. But four model homes are open to entice the public: the Everett, the Winsor, the Chandler, and the Merritt, each named after one of Kinkade's children. Although each features a vague architectural "style" (i.e. Tudor, Victorian, etc.), none of the homes bear much resemblance to the stone-and-thatch-roof cottages of Kinkade's paintings; rather, they bear a striking resemblance to houses in the planned communities up the road, with the same cookie-cutter, Superglued feel. Perhaps this is because Kinkade did not actually design the homes himself -- instead, he licensed his name and artistic sensibilities to a development firm called Taylor Woodrow, which designed the homes but submitted all plans to Kinkade for approval. (Kinkade has declined to comment on Hiddenbrooke, and referred calls about the homes to the developer.)
There are, for example, none of the flowering bushes or graceful trees that are characteristic of Kinkade's paintings -- according to the planners, abundant landscaping is just too expensive to maintain. None of the homes in the village have gardens at all, though they do have tiny patios. In fact, the entire village is devoid of any foliage, save for a few tired-looking pansies planted in front of the model homes (planners promise a small amount of similar landscaping for each home). And although those lucky enough to live adjacent to the golf course can gaze out their windows upon Hiddenbrooke's grassy hills and miniature lake, there isn't a tree visible for miles, let alone a hollyhock or a daffodil, and there are no plans to plant any significant number of them.
The Hiddenbrooke resident must also forgo another mainstay of Kinkade's works -- the woodsy winter fireplace smoke oozing from the chimney. Fireplaces here are gas only. There's no quaint neighborhood church in the village, either; nor is there a grocery store, a community square, or a restaurant -- heck, there isn't even a corner store. If you want to shop or pray or eat, you'll need to get on the freeway and head into Vallejo, since Hiddenbrooke is a residential-only zone.
As for the houses themselves, while they are perfectly serviceable and attractive enough, they aren't particularly charming or quaint. The only Kinkade-like architectural details in the village are the stone entry gates and turret (which houses a Thomas Kinkade gallery), and the decorating in the model homes -- decorating which, of course, will not be included in the home one might purchase. These walk-in dioramas of Kinkade merchandise exude a certain Kinkadeian atmosphere -- a multiculti, artsy-fartsy, touchy-feely kind of family vibe. The libraries of the model homes included such volumes as "Soup: A Way of Life"; biographies of Maria Callas and the Dalai Lama; assorted coffee table books featuring impressionist painters (no modern art here, mister!); self-help books like "Real Life, Real Answers" and "The Retreat to Commitment"; Danielle Steel and John Grisham novels; and, probably since Northern California has a large Hispanic population, a tome called "Mexican-Americans: The Ambivalent Minority." (The Bible is conspicuously absent, which is noteworthy considering Kinkade's religious fervor; apparently, the developers didn't want to scare off any potential Hindus or Zoroastrians.)
Fake family photos of happy, wholesome, all-American families frolicking at beaches, golf courses and weddings adorn the walls. Floral and chintz fabrics abound, and the "children's rooms" are done up in golf themes and horse themes and, for one poor mythical college student, an entire University of California at Davis theme (including UC-Davis wallpaper, pillows, pennants, and framed campus photographs.) And while the homes all boast computers -- this is high-tech country, after all -- the fictional "matriarch" of one model home still pens her thank-you notes the old-fashioned way: in ink, on Thomas Kinkade stationery. ("Fran -- Our new home is beautiful! We love the small town feel and the community is wonderful. It is a joy to live in our new home.")
And, of course, enormous Kinkade prints hang on every wall -- one model home boasted no less than 14 Kinkade originals. This is some consolation: even if the village homes don't actually have views or thatched roofs or mossy masonry or gardens bursting with flowers or sparkling waterfalls descending down purple cliffs, you can look at those things on your walls.
