How I Built This: Creating Community at Ravenwood
“It’s about the dialogue created by going back and forth between urban and rural life. Our guests are constantly comparing and discussing how these worlds feed each other. It’s funny, because Chris wouldn’t think of it that way. For him, it’s as simple as not wanting to get stuck doing the same thing the rest of his life.”
To understand how Dana McClure and Chris Lanier built Ravenwood, one must not try to define it. Sure, it’s a physical space (a beautiful one at that) that hosts a variety of seasonal events from dinners and pop-up shops to art shows, but to its builders, it’s not what happens there — it’s why. It’s a celebration of time and place, which McClure and Lanier describe as an ongoing collaboration, rather than a typical business.
“The origins of Ravenwood and even our move upstate was always about figuring out a way to take our two worlds and bring them together,” explains McClure of the ever-evolving concept. “It was never about brainstorming how to make a profit-driven business. It was and is about creating a collaboration that keeps us fulfilled and is flexible enough to change as we do.”
Lanier’s world is food and agriculture, and McClure’s is art and design. For years, they honed their respective skills while living and working in Brooklyn. Weekend trips upstate turned into house hunting, and in 2010, they bought a private, 15-acre property in Olivebridge, New York off a windy road called Ravenwood. They immediately planted maple trees, bought dozens of chickens, and started growing their own food, which they would bring back to Brooklyn as bounty. The seeds for Ravenwood were planted.
It wasn’t until 2012 when McClure’s mother purchased a beautiful, roadside 1850s barn five minutes down the road, that Ravenwood really began to sprout. Having an accessible property meant that a public space could be possible. They spent the next three years restoring the space, combining elements of its former glory (in the form of reclaimed wood and roof sheathing) with more modern touches like bleached pine floors.
The couple continued to go back and forth between the city and country, throwing dinner parties in their Williamsburg apartment in collaboration with their chef, sommelier, and industry friends. “The impetus for growing food was bringing people together and making a beautiful table,” says McClure. “We wanted to make the experience very sensory and visual.” The casual dinners were such a success that when they formalized the concept and brought it upstate to the barn, their first dinner sold out within minutes.
Knowing they couldn’t do it all themselves, Lanier and McClure quickly immersed themselves in the local community of farmers and growers. Lanier approached his menus with an amalgamation of his impressive and varied experiences — from the fire and smoke of his years in the Austin, to the progressive cuisine at some of New York’s most acclaimed restaurants like Café Boulud and WD-50. While his formal training informed his work, it’s his relationship with and proximity to the process of growing food that is the most direct reflection of what’s on the plate.
And it’s not just the food that’s local. Everything McClure curates, from the drinks (wine, cider, and beer) to the table settings (think naturally dyed linens and candles), highlights not only what is being consumed, but where it comes from (which in this case is from within 100 miles of the barn).
With so many wedding venues popping up, McClure and Lanier work hard to prove that though they are indeed an event space, they are primarily invested in their community. Their dinners, which include both upstate locals and visitors, encourage a discourse about what’s going on in the community and how the city and country can thrive together.
As their life and family has evolved — they have a five-year-old and a two-year-old — so too has Ravenwood. “Before kids, we had lots of time to grow. Once we had kids, we had to strip way back and focus more on the barn. We shifted from doing everything ourselves to having a space where we bring the community together and be a hub for makers.” There’s even talk of expanding the property with an addition, which would add more flexibility for programming.
Their dinner series happens on weekends from May to October (though they took a break this year) and they have a weekend pop-up farm shop and cafe that sells produce, as well as a curation of New York State artisanal designs ranging from ceramics to textiles. The couple also does a fair share of non-public facing work, such as food styling, cookbooks, and design. “There’s been a definite shift from having to go to the city to make a living to bringing the work up here,” says McClure. In fact, it’s the dynamic between their two creative worlds — the city and the Hudson Valley — that keeps them ever-inspired.
“It’s about the dialogue created by going back and forth between urban and rural life. Our guests are constantly comparing and discussing how these worlds feed each other. It’s funny, because Chris wouldn’t think of it that way. For him, it’s as simple as not wanting to get stuck doing the same thing the rest of his life.” As the thriving hub that’s Ravenwood evolves along with the shifting seasons, there’s certainly no danger of that.
Photography by Alan Koppel and Dana McClure
Written by: Anna Deutsch
