William Curtis makes a cogent argument in the very first words of Modern Architecture Since 1900 when he says, “There is a tidy and misleading analogy between history and human life which proposes that architectural movements are born, have youth, mature, and eventually die” and that “the historical process which led to the creation of the modern movement in architecture had none of this biological inevitability, and had no clear beginning which can be pinpointed with precision.” (Curtis 21)
This is a vital jumping off point when discussing any sort of cultural, philosophical, or scientist movement. Just as The Pixies and Talking Heads did not fit snug tight into the go-go 80’s music scene, a musical movement that slipped into the pejorative before reemerging in fashion more recently, and the Marquis de Sade’s Misfortunes of Virtue, Justine, and 120 Days of Sodom; works which can either be seen as the degenerate ravings of the French ruling class or as the vanguard of modern literature, malevolent works of violent eroticism which would eventually lead us to the likes of Phillip Roth and Erica Jong could scarcely compare to the gothic works of Anne Radcliffe or Matthew Lewis, the architecture of Gaudi and Morris cannot be tidily dissected and sorted into whatever shorthand version of Reform Arts & Crafts or Art Nouveau is en vogue at the moment.
As a matter of personal preference, I am reluctant to accept labels altogether. For one reason, I find that our need to classify and categorize is a direct function of our tendency to dismiss out of hand complex ideas- seeing as how Morris’s devout Socialism is scarcely recalled when looking at his elaborate wallpaper designs, or his Red House mansion and Gaudi’s fantastical and erotic architecture emerged from, and perhaps as a result of Gaudi’s asceticism- but who would know that when visiting la Sagrada Familia? After all, it is now a building in captivity and not an organic functional work. It certainly has not become what Gaudi anticipated.
I feel that we do these men and ourselves a great disservice by conflating their unique perspectives and ideas into movements which are in and of themselves artificial and hard to define. Sure certain Morris creations bore the weight of their “thinginess”, a term as ill-suited to describe his finished works as any other word you could summon- but the true quality of his work lies within the margins of an ideal not quite born in reality and not quite capable of coming to fruition- high quality expert craftsmanship of a caliber that only the wealthy could afford is not socialist, as much as it is an affectation of a socialist ideal.
Gaudi’s carnivalesque Casa BatllĪ (1887) with its colorful walls and fenestrations adorned with railings that resemble party masks undoubtedly inspired a generation of surrealists. There is a Disney quality to his architecture- or should I say there is a little bit of Gaudi in Beauty and the Beast and the Little Mermaid. As with Morris, lumping Gaudi in with a school diminishes his work. It denies us the chance to take him on as an individual, with influences to be sure, but as a unique perspective.
I have always felt that the difference between architecture and construction is the “why” and the “how”. Great works are neither easy to conceive or to realize. The greatest artists in design all tended to die poor and anonymous- taking with them their vision- the spiritual difference between a box of windows and doors and a revered work. To categorize everything may make it easier for us to organize bits of trivia and objects- but I find that it makes it harder for us to truly see them.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Josef Hoffman and Design 9297
Early modernism brought to bear the philosophical question: What is to replace the old? The French style of Beaux-Arts had all but dominated most tasteful architecture with its heavy masonry, bountiful ornament, and blocky museum rooms filled with trinkets and heavy fabrics.
Josef Hoffman was an early proponent of shifting focus away from the literal and instead expressing human feeling through abstract geometries. His architecture was a foreshadowing of Frank Lloyd Wright. His angular buildings played upon notions of axis and direction, providing a space within which one could begin to appreciate modern art.
Maharam has recreated one of Hoffman's unpublished textile works, Design 9297. Maharm's recreation is a satin weave with an elegant sheen and rich pure colors. The pattern is striking in its parabolic tear drop shapes and clarity of design.
This and many other architectural quality fabrics are available at www.draperyrow.com
Josef Hoffman was an early proponent of shifting focus away from the literal and instead expressing human feeling through abstract geometries. His architecture was a foreshadowing of Frank Lloyd Wright. His angular buildings played upon notions of axis and direction, providing a space within which one could begin to appreciate modern art.
Maharam has recreated one of Hoffman's unpublished textile works, Design 9297. Maharm's recreation is a satin weave with an elegant sheen and rich pure colors. The pattern is striking in its parabolic tear drop shapes and clarity of design.
This and many other architectural quality fabrics are available at www.draperyrow.com
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Rectangles Dissolving Into Circles: Louis Sullivan and the Boxing in of Modern Architecture
Louis Sullivan, in an article published in the August 1892 edition of The Engineering Magazine “Ornamentation in Architecture” wrote that “by virtue of mass and proportion” a building devoid of ornamentation may signify something noble and dignified . Sullivan called for a period of cooling down in the application of ornament in modern buildings because he felt that in order to fully realize the potential of modern buildings, designers first needed to master a new grammar of forms. Any ornamentation, Sullivan suggests, must flow throughout harmoniously and embody a “singleness of idea”.
This position is clearly laid out in his seminal Wainright Building (1890-1891). The building’s tripartite construction and soaring pilasters emphasize the building’s upward thrust, projecting power and commerce. Organic details formed in terracotta provided some allusion to the building’s occupant, The Wainright Brewery Company. This quintessentially American architectural expression marked the epoch of St. Louis’ golden age, which culminated in the 1904 World’s Fair, celebrating the centennial of the Louisiana Purchase and the Lewis & Clarke Expedition.
In thinking about the challenges of this era of architecture, I find myself in agreement with William Curtis, who points out that architects and city planners were faced with the challenge of creating not only new types of buildings and infrastructure, but also charged with developing a new style that best complimented the new building materials and technological capabilities. While many architects, would side with Sullivan and take a step back from ornamentalism and create a stripped down rectilinear vision of the future, some would take this concept too far and alienate, if not downright terrify those who did not know what to make of these humungous new edifices.
I am reminded of the boxy monolithic buildings in Jacques Tati’s Play Time (1967). In this film, Tati focuses on the rigidity of the forms of modern architecture and how it attempts to impose on us a system of rectilinear angles- which of course we destroy with our curved movements. Tati saw the global building boom and its boxy concrete skyscrapers as a threat not only to the vernacular traditions and romantic ideals of the past, but also to our very sense of humanity. Play Time is perhaps the most articulate and scathing indictment of taking Sullivan’s directive too far. In one sequence, the film’s featured character, Monsieur Hulot walks up to a trade fair exhibit which features garbage bins in the form of Greek columns. The sign in the booth proclaims “Thro.Out Greek Style”. In the shot below, the beautiful Barbara Dennick, Tati’s mistress at the time, holds open a glass door as she enters a monolithic steel skyscraper and reveals to us the reflection of the Eiffel Tower. It is one of the film’s only allusions to its past, to beauty, to what Paris brings to mind when we close our eyes and imagine it.
Cities, like the somehow organized complex of buildings that coalesce to form their shape, have a uniqueness and personality that not only define the vernacular culture, but also valorizes the aspirations, history, and accomplishment of a people. This is why ornamentalism is so important. In this respect, I stand with Sullivan when he suggests that “a decorative structure, harmoniously conceived, well considered, cannot be stripped of its system of ornament without destroying its individuality.”
Additional Reading:
Curtis, William J. R.. Modern Architecture Since 1900. New York. Phaidon Press Limited. 2010. Print.
Play Time. Dir. Jacques Tati. Perfs. Jacques Tati, Barbara Dennick, Rita Maiden. 1967. Blu Ray. Criterion Collection, 2009.
Sullivan, Louis. Kindergarten Chats and Other Writings. New York. Dover Publications. 1979. Print.
This position is clearly laid out in his seminal Wainright Building (1890-1891). The building’s tripartite construction and soaring pilasters emphasize the building’s upward thrust, projecting power and commerce. Organic details formed in terracotta provided some allusion to the building’s occupant, The Wainright Brewery Company. This quintessentially American architectural expression marked the epoch of St. Louis’ golden age, which culminated in the 1904 World’s Fair, celebrating the centennial of the Louisiana Purchase and the Lewis & Clarke Expedition.
In thinking about the challenges of this era of architecture, I find myself in agreement with William Curtis, who points out that architects and city planners were faced with the challenge of creating not only new types of buildings and infrastructure, but also charged with developing a new style that best complimented the new building materials and technological capabilities. While many architects, would side with Sullivan and take a step back from ornamentalism and create a stripped down rectilinear vision of the future, some would take this concept too far and alienate, if not downright terrify those who did not know what to make of these humungous new edifices.
Tati offers rare glimpses of “Old Paris” in the sterile grey modernism of Play Time
I am reminded of the boxy monolithic buildings in Jacques Tati’s Play Time (1967). In this film, Tati focuses on the rigidity of the forms of modern architecture and how it attempts to impose on us a system of rectilinear angles- which of course we destroy with our curved movements. Tati saw the global building boom and its boxy concrete skyscrapers as a threat not only to the vernacular traditions and romantic ideals of the past, but also to our very sense of humanity. Play Time is perhaps the most articulate and scathing indictment of taking Sullivan’s directive too far. In one sequence, the film’s featured character, Monsieur Hulot walks up to a trade fair exhibit which features garbage bins in the form of Greek columns. The sign in the booth proclaims “Thro.Out Greek Style”. In the shot below, the beautiful Barbara Dennick, Tati’s mistress at the time, holds open a glass door as she enters a monolithic steel skyscraper and reveals to us the reflection of the Eiffel Tower. It is one of the film’s only allusions to its past, to beauty, to what Paris brings to mind when we close our eyes and imagine it.
Cities, like the somehow organized complex of buildings that coalesce to form their shape, have a uniqueness and personality that not only define the vernacular culture, but also valorizes the aspirations, history, and accomplishment of a people. This is why ornamentalism is so important. In this respect, I stand with Sullivan when he suggests that “a decorative structure, harmoniously conceived, well considered, cannot be stripped of its system of ornament without destroying its individuality.”
Additional Reading:
Curtis, William J. R.. Modern Architecture Since 1900. New York. Phaidon Press Limited. 2010. Print.
Play Time. Dir. Jacques Tati. Perfs. Jacques Tati, Barbara Dennick, Rita Maiden. 1967. Blu Ray. Criterion Collection, 2009.
Sullivan, Louis. Kindergarten Chats and Other Writings. New York. Dover Publications. 1979. Print.
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