Introducing the Paul Rudolph Institute for Modern Architecture

Paul Rudolph’s representation of the human figure used as the logo for the Paul Rudolph Institute for Modern Architecture.

The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation and the Paul Rudolph Estate are excited to announce the launch of the Paul Rudolph Institute for Modern Architecture.

The Paul Rudolph Institute for Modern Architecture (PRIMA) will replace the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation and expand its mission to provide outreach and information to educators, students, design professionals and the broader public interested in learning about the design principles of modern architecture exemplified in Paul Rudolph’s architectural work and teachings.

“Principles are principles. Principles don’t change. Styles change; attitudes change. Things are in a constant state of flux. The only grasp one can have on the profession is to get a handle on great principles.” - Paul Rudolph

Rudolph referred to these principles as the ‘DNA’ of architecture and they include issues of site, function, space, structure/materials, scale and style (referred to as the spirit of the times). These principles are timeless and are not just found in Rudolph’s own buildings: they are not restricted to any one style of construction, location or material.

“Modern architecture’s range of expression is today from A to B. We build isolated buildings with no regard to the space between them, monotonous and endless streets, too many goldfish bowls, too few caves. We tend to build merely diagrams of buildings.”

”One can say that the present tendency to reduce everything to a system of rectangles, both in plan and elevation, is an outgrowth of the modular concept and machine processes. We accept this discipline but we still long innately for the old play of light and shadow, for something curved.” - Paul Rudolph

Rudolph realized that for architecture to be successful, it must solve modern problems and reflect modern times with a respect for a traditional way of seeing and feeling space.

“People, if they think about architecture at all, usually think in terms of the materials. While that’s important, it’s not the thing that determines the psychology of the building. It’s really the compression and release of space, the lighting of that space—dark to light—and the progression of one space to another. Because one remembers in that sense.” - Paul Rudolph

As architecture and design adapt to the changing needs of our modern world - sustainability and climate change; urbanism; affordable housing to name a few - these principles can help us to design and build a better future that keeps and learns from the best of the past.

The New York City-based non-profit 501(c)3 organization was founded by Ernst Wagner, Paul Rudolph’s heir and executor of his estate, to fulfill Rudolph’s wish that an organization be created to preserve and educate others about his architectural legacy. The Institute will promote Rudolph’s design principles through preservation and advocacy efforts, educational programs, public events and maintaining and developing an archive of materials related to modern architecture.

The Institute’s logo is Rudolph’s representation of a human figure in the pen and ink drawings that made his work celebrated around the world. It represents Rudolph’s humanistic view of architecture that emphasizes the power of human beings to create, improve, and reshape their environment with the aid of scientific knowledge, technology and practical experimentation.

Rudolph described architecture as “used space formed to satisfy people’s psychological needs.” This definition places the user at the center of architectural experience and considers human beings as the starting point for any architectural philosophical inquiry.

The Paul Rudolph Institute for Modern Architecture will continue to act as the exclusive worldwide representative for The Estate of Paul Rudolph LLC with regard to licensing third parties for any and all uses of the intellectual property rights of the Works of Paul Rudolph.

If you are interested in becoming involved with the work of the Paul Rudolph Institute, or to find out more about our programs as they develop, please complete the “Contact Us” form and note your interest in this work so we may contact you.

Halston's Legendary Space - and How it Looks Today (and Will Tomorrow)

The great fashion designer Halston, enthroned in his living room—within the famous “101”, the townhouse in New York’s Upper East Side neighborhood in Manhattan . Photo by Harry Benson, from a feature on Halston in Life Magazine.

UPDATE:

The below was written as Netflix was planning its 2021 series ‘Halston’ Since its gone live there has been a HUGE amount of interest about the designer and especially his legendary residence at 101 East 63rd Street in New York City.

We’ve noticed a lot of familiar photos of the interior circulating on social media and even some articles which have published incorrect information about the space.

We were hoping the series was going to rebuild the interior of the home on a soundstage, but appreciate the effort made by the production team to make a property in Brooklyn look as similar as possible (we do regret the handrails that Rudolph never used but understand why they are needed!).

A lot of articles mention Tom Ford’s 2019 purchase and his plans to restore the interiors. For those of you who want to know more, we are republishing the below:

A House with a History

Paul Rudolph designed the original residence at 101 East 63rd street for Mr. Alexander Hirsch in 1966. He created a Modernist oasis for his client, an intensely private person who wanted a place to escape to while still being in the heart of Manhattan. As Rudolph later described the project in Sibyl Moholy-Nagy’s 1970 book, The Architecture of Paul Rudolph:

A world of its own, inward looking and secretive, is created in a relatively small volume of space in the middle of New York City. Varying intensities of light are juxtaposed and related to structures within structures. Simple materials (plaster, paint) are used, but the feeling is of great luxuriousness because of the space. The one exposed facade reveals the interior arrangement of volumes by offsetting each floor and room in plan and section.

The house later went from being a private refuge to a celebrity hot spot known for its notorious parties when it was sold to the fashion designer Halston in the 1970’s. Halston himself spoke about the space in a recent documentary about his life that was featured on CNN:

I’m Halston and this is my home. The architect was Paul Rudolph and the day I saw it, I bought it. Its the only real modern house built in the city of New York since the second world war. Its like living in a three dimensional sculpture.

A video portion of Halston walking through 101 East 63rd from the CNN documentary. Halston’s description of the house begins at 0:46:50.

His lawyer upon visiting the house quipped, “I’m going to enjoy making money for you Halston because you know how to spend it.”

For more information about the house, you can find drawings and photos of it on our project page here.

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Perspective Section Rendering. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

A Buyer as Famous as the House

As we reported in a previous blog post back in March, the house was finally sold to fashion designer Tom Ford after being on the market for a number of years. The sale, first reported in an article in Women’s Wear Daily after being the subject of rumors for a few weeks, was reported across social media and the design community. Articles appeared in Garage, Vogue, GQ, Mansion Global, the Daily Mail and New York Times.

Halston had hired Rudolph to renovate the space when he bought it. Wall to wall grey carpet, mirrored and Plexiglas furniture and chain-mail curtains were installed as a result. Members of the design community were pleased to learn that Tom Ford intended to restore the interior to the glamour that many remembered.

A Restoration, or Renovation?

Shortly before the sale was announced, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation was approached by Mr. Ford’s architect, Atmosphere Design Group, to obtain copies of Rudolph’s original drawings. We were told ‘the client’ wanted to restore the interiors.

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Paul Rudolph’s Mezzanine Floor Plan. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

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Paul Rudolph’s Third Floor Plan. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

We asked the architect to consider consulting with the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation during the design process to ensure the design was faithful to Mr. Rudolph’s original vision. They said they would consider it and were never heard from again. Given the architect is generally known for Mr. Ford’s retail store design, we were concerned when we learned a demolition permit was issued in August, 2019.

Our request was not without precedent - the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation has given advice, free of charge, to owners of Rudolph-designed properties in the past. We were part of the design review of proposed replacement windows at the Mary Jewett Arts Center. We also helped a home owner in New Jersey find an architect to design an addition. In the end, he was able to hire Rudolph’s original project manager to construct the addition in way that fit into the original design.

A Cautious Optimism

We continued to hold out hope that - despite not hearing from the architect - the project was ‘in good hands.’ From online comments and at our public events, people were relieved to hear Mr. Ford had purchased the property as he was known for taking care of homes designed by significant architects, such as Richard Neutra.

Following the CNN documentary, Netflix announced that it too was going to do a story about Halston and were scouting locations to use for filming. Netflix location scouts visited us in the Rudolph-designed apartment at Modulightor and we spoke to them about Mr. Ford’s proposed changes and they said they would call us after seeing the original home for themselves. That was followed by the New York Times publishing the Halston interior as #19 on its ‘25 Rooms that Influence the Way We Design’

As the iconic interior continued to be in the news, we waited to see what was being done to the space.

Then we got a call - “The space is gutted, Its unrecognizable.”

What Will Change and What Will Stay the Same

The foundation immediately made phone calls and was able to obtain a set of the permit drawings. The following is what we learned about the work:

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First Floor - Existing Plan. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

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First Floor - Demolition Plan. Drawing by Atmosphere Design Group, from the NYC DOB.

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First Floor - Construction Plan. Drawing by Atmosphere Design Group, from the NYC DOB.

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Second Floor - Existing Plan. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

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Second Floor - Demolition Plan. Drawing by Atmosphere Design Group, from the NYC DOB.

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Second Floor - Construction Plan. Drawing by Atmosphere Design Group, from the NYC DOB.

What’s different:

• All of the bathrooms are being gutted and some are combined to become larger. Looking at the elevations, we are pleased to learn it will include floor to ceiling mirrors with chrome vanities and toilets in some of them.

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Mirrors, mirrors everywhere… reminds us of the note ‘melamine everything’ that was found during a renovation of Rudolph’s own 23 Beekman Place. We especially love the polished chrome toilet and vanity with undercounter lighting. Drawing by Atmosphere Design Group, from the NYC DOB.

• The Kitchen will be enlarged (presumably for a menu greater than just ‘baked potatoes’)

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Mirrors used for the kitchen back-splash are reminiscent of the kitchen designed by Paul Rudolph at the Modulightor’s duplex apartment. Drawing by Atmosphere Design Group, from the NYC DOB.

• The Master Bedroom’s walk in closet is being removed and turned into a separate bedroom

What’s the same:

• The main space for the most part is left alone. While this is a relief, it will disappoint anyone who was hoping the hardwood flooring, installed by a previous owner, would be replaced by Halston’s signature grey wall-to-wall plush carpeting.

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The iconic living room will be left mostly as is. The furniture layout suggests it may be recreated to match Halston’s Rudolph-designed originals. Drawing by Atmosphere Design Group, from the NYC DOB.

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The living room floor and stair treads are now wood. According to the plans, they will remain wood. Photo by Carl Bellavia, Archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation.

The original funriture layout designed by Paul Rudolph for Halston. Photo by Harry Benson, from a feature on Halston in Life Magazine.

What could be a concern:

• Despite being in a landmark district - and signed off by the Landmark’s Commission as having no affect on the building exterior - the drawings show the original garage door will be removed and replaced.

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Note the garage door is dotted on the demolition plan, with a note calling for it to be replaced. Drawing by Atmosphere Design Group, from the NYC DOB.

• The drawings call for renovations of the landscaping and roof to be filed separately

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The Fourth Floor construction plan, showing no work to be done on the roof, but calling for new roof tree planters. Drawing by Atmosphere Design Group, from the NYC DOB.

The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation will continue to watch for future applications to see what is planned for these areas that fall under landmarks review and protection.

You call that "Preservation" ? — UPDATE on the plight of the Biggs Residence

Paul Rudolph’s Biggs Residence in Delray Beach, Florida. Here it is shown in a 1956 photograph, in a prime, just-completed condition, as Rudolph had conceived it. But decades of changes by subsequent owners marred Rudolph’s design—and those included insensitively installed air conditioning equipment, and visually obtrusive additions. The intention: New owners and their architect declared that they wanted to “Bring it back to the way it should look..” and “Bring it back to the original layout and then assess what their next step will be.”

And what happened: Applying for a Certificate Of Appropriateness, they said: “The addition does not change or effect any of the distinctive features, finishes or construction techniques of the historic house. The house is being preserved and restored as originally designed by Paul Rudolph without any compromise arising out of the addition proposal, except for the connector at the rear, least public view.” In a report, commissioned by Delray Beach, the city’s consulting architect says: “In my professional opinion this is a false statement.”

“The demolition of this unique site has far reaching consequences for the legacy of Paul Rudolph, the Sarasota School of Architecture, the much-prized historical character of the city, and the neighbors who now have to contend with prolonged construction.”

—Official statement by the city of Delray Beach

THE BIGGS RESIDENCE: ITS IMPORTANCE—AND THE PROPER PROCESS FOR CHANGE

The city of Delray Beach’s map showing the buildings on their Local Register of Historic Places. The Biggs Residence (number 35) is within the red oval near the map’s right-hand edge. A larger version of the map is here.

The Biggs Residence—a Paul Rudolph design of 1955—is an important part of his oeuvre. It is also a prime example of Florida’s Mid-Century Modern architecture, by that era’s (and region’s) leader of Modern American design.

The Biggs Residence has been recognized as a significant part of Florida’s cultural heritage: in 2005 the city of Delray Beach’s Historic Preservation Board recommended that it be added to the city’s Local Register of Historic Places—and that was approved by the City Commission.

Any proposed changes to a building on that Register must be fully reviewed by the city’s preservation officer and and the historic preservation board. If approved by them, the project will receive a “Certificate of Appropriateness” (COA).

BIGGS: CHANGES AND CONTINUITIES

The Biggs Residence in 20i6, showing an accumulation of changes and/or additions.

Over the decades, subsequent owners to the Biggs Residence have not completely held to Rudolph’s original design. Additions and changes have departed from the building as Paul Rudolph conceived it—and the results have often been visually obtrusive. And, of course, any distinguished building that’s reaches a half-century of age will be in need of multiple kinds of care—just like a classic car—and how each owner handles that care & repair will vary with their knowledge, sensitivity, and means. Consequently, their effects on the building will range in quality—and sometimes the accumulated impacts will be profoundly contrary to the spirit of the original design.

Yet the main part of what Rudolph created at Biggs remained—the essential raised volume of living spaces. Also, as shown in the two comparison photos below, significant aspects of its original internal character had been maintained—and that’s to be valued and praised.

LEFT: An interior view of the Biggs Residence in 1959—showing the house in its original state, as designed by Paul Rudolph. This view of the central living-dining area is towards the dining table at the end of the room, which sits near the storage wall. At the far right is the entry passage to the kitchen. In this photograph, one of room’s pair of large and prominent steel ceiling beams is clearly seen

ABOVE: As of 2016, when this photograph was taken, the house’s main living space still retained its essential character of a spacious openness in its center, as well as other Rudolph-designed features: the emphatically displayed steel structure, and the wall of storage (behind moving panels) at one end of the room

CHANGES: The POSTIVE INTENTIONS

New owners acquired the Biggs Residence in 2018, and wished to make changes. That’s not unusual, nor is it to be disparaged: as lifestyles evolve, expectations for our residences change too—so even important and classic works of architecture sometimes undergo alteration, and this happens most often after they change ownership. But when someone buys a distinguished work-of-architecture, it is hoped that they will be sympathetic to the original architect’s conception, and any changes will be discrete and respectful—and, as noted in our last article, there’s a serious body of helpful preservation knowledge about how to proceed in such cases (and a whole profession standing ready to assist in these projects.)

In 2018 the owners visited the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation at our NYC headquarters in the Paul Rudolph Modulightor Building. They told us about their plans to remove the two additions (and add a discrete new one) that would allow the original home to look as close to Rudolph’s original design in almost 37 years. They also gave us copies of drawings and research they had collected as well as shared drawings and renderings of the final design with us. We were pleased with their proposal and considered this project to be in the “safe” category. We didn’t think anything of it at the time, but this would be the last communication we had with them.

As per proper procedure, the proposed alterations to the Biggs Residence were submitted for review (and re-review with amendments). The owner’s (and their architect’s) stated goals were admirable—and their declared intentions for the proposed work included:

“Bring it back to the way it should look.”

“Bring it back to the original layout and then assess what their next step will be.”

“The addition does not change or effect any of the distinctive features, finishes or construction techniques of the historic house. The house is being preserved and restored as originally designed by Paul Rudolph without any compromise arising out of the addition proposal, except for the connector at the rear, least public view.”

CHANGES: The RESULTS

We don’t dispute the good intentions of the owners and their architects. We realize that there’s often another side (or sides) to any story, and we truly welcome further information, input, and other points-of-view. But we were distressed when a report came in that far more changes had happened on-site than had been approved—as when we saw the March 12th headline from the Palm Beach Post (see it, with the beginning of their story, at right), along with a photo like the one at the top of this article.

We weren’t the only ones to be alarmed. The city of Delray Beach was on-the-case, bringing the owners before a magistrate. As part of their investigation, the city commissioned an investigative report from an independent architect (more about that, later).

THE CITY OF DEL RAY ISSUED THE FOLLOWING STATEMENT:

Delray Beach values and protects its historic buildings. The city’s Historic Preservation staff work hand-in-hand with property owners, architects, and builders to guide them through the approval process and serve as a resource when restoring or renovating historic buildings and sites.  

The site at 212 Seabreeze Avenue, known as the Sewell C. Biggs House, was designed in 1955 by internationally renowned architect Paul Rudolph, who was part of the Sarasota School of Architecture and later Chairman of the School of Architecture at Yale University. The Sewell C. Biggs House is a historic structure listed on the Delray Beach Local Register of Historic Places. 

During August 2020, the Sewell C. Biggs House was demolished down to its metal frame. This action was not approved by the city and is a stark contrast to the original plan presented to and approved by the city’s Historic Preservation Board, which emphasized a desire to respectfully rehabilitate and restore Paul Rudolph’s original building with minimal changes. 

The decision not to inform the city effectively denied staff the ability to determine if the demolition was warranted, and the opportunity to inspect the site to assess how much of the original, historically significant, structure could have been saved. 

The demolition of this unique site has far reaching consequences for the legacy of Paul Rudolph, the Sarasota School of Architecture, the much-prized historical character of the city, and the neighbors who now have to contend with prolonged construction. 

Moving forward, the city’s goal is to work with the owners and the Historic Preservation Board to bring this historically significant building back to a state of historical integrity, as much as may be possible. The city has hired an architect with expertise in historic buildings to provide guidance to staff and help establish a path forward for the owners.

THE INVESTIGATION REPORT

A page from the report. It includes a photo, taken at the construction site in 2020, showing the remaining steel after the house’s roof and walls had been demolished.

When Delray’s Principal Planner in their Historic Preservation department sent us the above statement, they also sent along.

“. . . .the consultant report we received from Mr. Richard Heisenbottle, the architect the city hired to review the project following the demolition.”

Richard Heisenbottle’s report traces the history of the project, including: proposals and the documents submitted for review, testimony made before the Historic Preservation Board, revisions offered and reviewed, decisions made—and what he observed during a site visit.

The report compares what he owners and/or their architects stated, and what Mr. Heisenbottle assesses as to what really is the case—and some of the contrasts are stark (and you can read the full report here.)

Below are a few excerpts. First, the report’s author quotes from a promise or assertion made by the owners or their architect—and then (in parenthesis) is his assessment of the actuality of the situation.

• “The proposed work does not involve any removal of any characteristic features of the original house, such as the previously proposed plan to remove the 2nd floor and the galley kitchen, both of which will stay intact.” (This is an incorrect statement or a statement that has been violated. The work performed most definitely involved removal of characteristic features. The entirety of the perimeter walls, siding and roof framing have been removed. The galley kitchen has also been removed.)

• Distinctive features, finishes, and construction techniques or examples of craftsmanship that characterize a property shall be preserved. “The characteristic elevated steel columns and steel beam structure will be structurally rehabilitated, but otherwise preserved as is with respect to its original design. (The steel column and beam structure are the only element of the original structure being preserved. All else, wall framing, roof framing, windows, doors and siding are all being replaced and replicated.)

• The proposed work does not add new features or elements from other buildings. (The Applicant’s plan does add new features.)

• “Deteriorated historic features shall be repaired rather than replaced. Where the severity of deterioration requires replacement of a distinctive feature, the new feature shall match the old in design, color, texture and other visual qualities and, where possible materials.” The existing steel structure will be repaired and rehabilitated not replaced. The characteristic features of the historic house such as the grooved wood siding, will be restored and replaced, and if damaged beyond restoration, will be replaced with matching materials.” (None of the grooved wood siding or exterior wall studs were saved or restored, everything was replaced without providing any notification to HPB of the need for or extent demolition.)

The report offers several conclusions, some key ones being:

• Upon review and evaluation of all materials submitted to the City by the Owner in support of their Certificate of Appropriateness Application No. 2 and Building Permit Application, and as a result of my on-site inspection of the property to access its current condition, I have concluded that the owner and his general contractor have gone well beyond what was authorized in the COA and what was authorized on the approved Building Department Permit Plans.

• The extent of demolition could not have been anticipated under the approved COA submittal documents or under the proposed Construction Documents.

• In addition to non-compliance with the LDR requirements for demolition of more than 25% of a historic structure, the owner raised the structure in violation of the approved COA and without advising and receiving permission to do so from the Building Department and the HPB.

He then looks at the option for reconstructing the building. “Reconstruction” has a specific and rigorous meaning and set of standards, as defined by the U.S. Department of the Interior’s “Secretary of the Interior’s Standards for Reconstruction and Guidelines for Reconstructing Historic Buildings” (and you can read more about them here.) The report’s author reviews the standards, in preparation for his final recommendation—one which we feel needs to be contested.

AUTHENTICITY?

While we applaud the thoroughness of the report, we dispute one of its conclusions—the one wherein its author says that a—

“. . . .properly executed rehabilitation and partial reconstruction can continue to be listed as a historic resource on the Delray Beach Local Register of Historic Places.”

Our experience, and supported by a professional preservation expert we reached out to about this matter, is that no reconstruction of a building can authentically match the original. That’s because of the several real and intractable phenomena of the construction process:

• No documentation is ever complete enough to convey all aspects of a building. Even the most through records will not include all of a building’s varying connections, adjacencies of materials, details, and the incorporation of various systems both material, structural and mechanical. [What architects term the “conditions”.]

• Current building, life-safety, and energy codes; rules imposed by insurance companies; and desired upgrades due to higher quality-of-life expectations can be accommodated—but one can only make a best guess at what the original architect would have done had they been commissioned to deal with these latter-day challenges.

• When one is trying to integrate such changed standards into a yet-to-be-built building (because the original had been demolished), there is no “push-back” from the material presence of an extant building—and hence nothing to discipline the new decisions.

• Every building project—no matter how thoroughly thought-out in advance (and no matter how complete the drawings and specifications seem to be)—has gaps in its conception. Questions inevitably come-up during construction: issues whose decisions definitely will affect the look and quality of the outcome of the project. Ideally, the architect is consulted on each of these issues (either during site visits, or during frantic phone calls from the site)—and gives their solutions. Each architect will solve things in their own way, and Paul Rudolph was well known to be demanding during such site visits. How, during a “reconstruction” could his reactions to construction issues possibly be anticipated? They cant.

We acknowledge that a “reconstruction” might proceed in the most conscientious and well-intended way, carefully attempting to recreate the original Briggs Residence. But, for the above reasons, the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation will not support such a rebuilding as an authentic Rudolph design—and we will note that in our comprehensive list of the works of Paul Rudolph. The original residence will remain ‘demolished’ in our project list.

Even with all the changes and additions over the years, this photo shows that essential aspects of the Biggs Residence were still extant as of 2016—prior to the recent act of demolition.

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IMAGE CREDITS

NOTES:

The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation (a non-profit 501(c)3 organization) gratefully thanks all the individuals and organizations whose images are used in this non-profit scholarly and educational project.

The credits are shown when known to us, and are to the best of our knowledge, but the origin and connected rights of many images (especially vintage photos and other vintage materials) are often difficult determine. In all cases the materials are used in-good faith and in fair use in our non-profit scholarly and educational efforts. If any use, credits, or rights need to be amended or changed, please let us know.

When Wikimedia Commons links are provided, they are linked to the information page for that particular image. Information about the rights to use each of those images, as well as technical information on the images, can be found on those individual pages.

CREDITS, FROM TOP-TO-BOTTOM, AND LEFT-TO-RIGHT:

Biggs Residence in the 1950’s: photo as shown in the report, “Evaluation of COA Approval 212 Seabreeze Avenue, Delray Beach, FL 33483 RJHA Project No. 20-3494”, commissioned by the City of Delray Beach;  Biggs Residence condition after current demolition work: photo as shown in the report, “Evaluation of COA Approval 212 Seabreeze Avenue, Delray Beach, FL 33483 RJHA Project No. 20-3494”, commissioned by the City of Delray Beach;  Delray Beach Local Register of Historic Places: courtesy of City of Delray Beach;  Biggs Residence with additions in 2016: © Linda Lake / The Fite Group Luxury Homes;  Biggs Residence Living-Dining area in the 1950’s: photo by Ernest Graham, from a vintage issue of House & Home magazine, June 1959, courtesy of US Modernist Library;  Biggs Residence Living-Dining area as of 2016: © Linda Lake / The Fite Group Luxury Homes;  Biggs Residence as of 2016: © Linda Lake / The Fite Group Luxury Homes

What's “REAL”? (and What’s RIGHT) In Preservation: Restoration? Recreation? Reproduction? Renovation? Rehabilitation. . ?

Mies van der Rohe’s Barcelona Pavilion—one of THE key icons and exemplars of Modern Architecture—was built for a 1929 international exposition in Spain. It lasted only briefly, and—for decades thereafter—it was only known via its floor famous plan, a detail drawing of a column, and a handful of photographs (of which this view is the one most repeatedly reproduced.)

Mies died in 1969, and—nearly two decades after he had passed—a reconstruction of the Barcelona Pavilion was completed on the same site as the original. It has provided interesting experiences for architects (who never had a chance to visit the short-lived original)—but whether it should ever have been re-built remains a question within the architectural community.

"Never demolish, never remove or replace, always add, transform, and reuse!"

"Demolishing is a decision of easiness and short term. It is a waste of many things—a waste of energy, a waste of material, and a waste of history. Moreover, it has a very negative social impact. For us, it is an act of violence."

— Anne Lacaton and Jean-Philippe Vassal, winners of the 2021 Pritzker Prize in Architecture

A CASE THAT RAISES QUESTIONS

The Barcelona Pavilion, designed by Mies van der Rohe, was built for an exposition in 1929—a “world’s fair” wherein 20 countries participated, and in which there were also exhibits on industry, science, art, history, crafts, science, and agriculture. The fair lasted for less than a year, and the structure which represented Germany—the Barcelona Pavilion—was demolished along with the rest of the fair’s buildings (as is usually done with such fairs).

The Barcelona Pavilion’s “cruciform column”: this plan-detail of it was one of the few original Mies drawings available—and has been the focus of attention for nearly a century.

After Paul Rudolph visited the Barcelona Pavilion, he made a series of fascinating analytical drawings—one of which is shown above—and all of which you can see here (where you can also read Rudolph’s thoughts about his moving experience of the building.)

Mies’ design became famous: an “icon”—an ontological distillation of a key thrust of architectural Modernism. Mies’ building lasted for only about 8 months, yet it continues to penetrate and have hegemony over architectural imaginations to this day. It did that via a handful of photographs and a couple of drawings—and it’s a testament to the power of the Mies’ concept that the Barcelona Pavilion has remained relevant for nearly a century, even on such thin evidence.

Later in Mies’ life, he was asked about rebuilding the Barcelona Pavilion, and he’s reported to have thought that it wasn’t a bad idea, and—-as the original construction drawings had been lost—he mentioned that his office could cooperate by making drawings for it. But, during Mies life (1886-1969), nothing came of the project.

In the mid-1980’s that changed: between 1983 and 1986 the building had been permanently rebuilt—and on the same site it had originally stood.

Very few of the people who’d be the most interested in the building—the architectural community—had a chance to visit the Barcelona Pavilion when it was briefly extant (and obviously none after its destruction). So the rebuilding has been celebrated, as it has allowed one to finally experience, in person, what they’d read about, studied, obsessed over, and dreamt of. [Paul Rudolph made a visit, which he found highly moving—and which you can read all about, here.]

Even though the reappearance, “in the flesh”, of the Barcelona Pavilion has benefits, its rebuilding has also been not without controversy—and it has brought forth serious questions:

1. Could a truly accurate rebuilding be done without the original architect’s direct involvement? [Which was clearly not possible in this case, as Mies had passed years before the rebuilding project even started.]

2. Even if Mies had been involved, would he have made changes in the a rebuilt design?—and how would that affect its authenticity. [Paul Rudolph observed that many things he saw at the site were not architecturally “resolved”—and that, Rudolph thought, was part of its magic. That imperfection may be “par for the course” with a rapidly planned and constructed, temporary exposition building—-but the temptation to “fix” such things, later, might have been too much for anyone (especially Mies) to resist.]

3. An important part of the experience of the Barcelona Pavilion was the effect caused by the materials used: slabs of natural stone—including some personally selected by Mies. These had been destroyed or dispersed, when the building was demolished in 1930. [How could one know that the newly chosen materials truly matched the originals in tone, grain, color, and texture?]

4. How much documentation was actually available, in order to do an accurate rebuilding? [In this case, while valiant attempts were made to sift for all documents and archeological evidence, there was still a significant gap between whatever original information was found, and what had to be extrapolated.]

5. Are there things that are better left in the realm of the imagination, and which should not be materialized (even when we have the power to do so)? [Philip Johnson—THE long-time associate, expert, and evangelist for Mies—said of the rebuilding project: “The problem before us is should a dream be realized or not? We have made such a myth of that building. Shouldn’t it be left in the sacred vault of the memory bank?”]

These questions remain—-and they are pertinent today, as we are, more-and-more, presented with new building projects which, allegedly, intend to rebuild, recreate, reproduce, or restore something that has been lost.

One problem is that the the thinking and language around these questions has become elastic, slippery, and with elusive meaning or intent. There is a lack of rigor in preservation—-not in the professional field, per se (about which we have immense admiration—-more about that below), but in the way that claims of preservation have been made which seem questionable. Making the situation even more difficult is that all this exists in a troublesome (and troubling) larger cultural context…

A REALITY / TRUST DEFICIT

A chart from the Pew Research Center’s study of Public Trust in Government: 1958-2019 The overall downward trend, from 1964 to the present, is evident. [Note that the largest and steepest drop was in the wake of the mid-1970’s Watergate scandal.] Whether such mistrust is deserved (and how one might ever determine such a titanic question) is another issue—nevertheless, the general direction of public sentiment is quite clear.

At the end of the 20th century, a symposium was held in New York on the topic of “Authenticity”. Topics ranged from the ubiquity (and intense popularity) of un-authorized “knock-off” copies of fashion items (like Gucci handbags) -to- the legitimacy of sampling in music; and—perhaps to spur new thinking about the question of “realness”—the event’s organizers had arranged for a drag queen to be the day’s host. It’s no secret that what can (and cannot) be trusted to be real, to be authentic, seems to be increasingly fluid — i.e.: the ongoing excitement about developments products for virtual reality (and their increasing consumer availability); that polls show trust in government has been on a nearly 60-year downward trend; our present (and elongating) moment when business, schooling, and socializing is done via screens; and everybody seems to have their own (and mutually exclusive) set of “facts.”

In the context of this, is it any wonder that we’re sensitive to such questions as:

• What’s real ?

• What’s authentic ?

• What’s “Original” (and what’s “Original Intent”) ?

• What has integrity ?

And these questions of integrity, of what is original, of what is authentic—the kind of truthfulness that might be found in architecture —comes up starkly in the domain of architectural preservation.

Ayn Rand’s architect hero, Howard Roark (at right) at a moment-of-truth: considering whether to compromise on the integrity of his design.

INTEGRITY aND ARCHITECTURE

Perhaps you’ve come across a building (or part of a building) which has been newly constructed—and the sponsors claim that their project is historically renovated, or that it is an authentic recreation, or that it is true to the spirit of the original architect, or that it is rehabilitated to match the original construction (or they characterize the work with similar such language.)

Do such claims have a solid basis? Or are they part of the “Creeping Surrealism” noted earlier?

Clearly, there shouldn’t be blanket verdicts on this (and one must judge on a case-by-case basis) — But, these days, one could hardly be overcautious when considering such claims, for, as Ayn Rand put it so starkly:

“A building has integrity, just as a man and just as seldom."

And that integrity (or lack thereof) can apply to preservation projects—ones which claim to be done with care, and rigor. But there’s also good news: there is a body-of-knowledge—and a profession to apply it—where such rigor can be found.

PRESERVATION—a pROFESSIONAL APPROACH

Fortunately, there is a well-developed discipline of Preservation—by which we mean the field that is historically and scientifically rigorous, professionally ethical, and which has a well-developed set of supporting institutions. activities, and tools. Some of those include:

• standards-setting organizations

• schools

• certifications

• professional groups, conferences, and ways of identifying and honoring distinguished work in the field

• journals

• publications

• databases

• government and public engagement

For example: One can see the wealth of preservation knowledge that’s been developed by looking at its publications. We asked Barbara A. Campagna, FAIA, LEED AP BD+C—a leading professional in this field, with in-depth experience in preservation—about this. We asked for the names of some of the key journals of the field—ones in which the profession of preservation shares its growing body of information and practical wisdom—and she mentioned: the Association for Preservation Technology’s APT Bulletin, the Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, and DOCOMOMO International’s DOCOMOMO Journal—all of which are peer reviewed.

PRESERVATION LANGUAGE FOR CLEAR THINKING

The profession has as worked-out an extensive vocabulary—terms which can help bring clarity to any proposed project.

For example: The National Parks Service refers to “Four Approaches to the Treatment of Historic Properties”—and offers a concise glossary of the key terms:

• Preservation focuses on the maintenance and repair of existing historic materials and retention of a property's form as it has evolved over time.

• Rehabilitation acknowledges the need to alter or add to a historic property to meet continuing or changing uses while retaining the property's historic character.

• Restoration depicts a property at a particular period of time in its history, while removing evidence of other periods.

• Reconstruction re-creates vanished or non-surviving portions of a property for interpretive purposes.

Each of the highlighted words above has their own separate set of standards (and clicking on them will bring you to the the relevant pages where that’s gone into.) The National Parks Service also offers training and an extensive set of publications which cover many areas, including general preservation strategy as well as in-depth technical information—and you can access them here.

But they is just one of numerous preservation organizations (both national and local) which also offer advice, data, and a great range of assistance—the National Trust for Historic Preservation being another major resource.

CASE STUDIES sHOWING A POSITIVE DIRECTION

There are several projects, within Rudolph’s oeuvre, where renovation was done with responsibility and care. Notable is that these were done well after Rudolph’s passing—so they show that it is possible to do such work (including bringing a building up to later standards) well, and still be loyal to the original architect’s vision.

HEALY GUEST HOUSE (THE “COOCOON” HOUSE)

The Healy Guest House (1950) in Sarasota, Florida, is a waterside vacation residence designed near the beginning of Paul Rudolph’s career. Known for its catenary roof, inventive structure, and fresh form, the design—combined with Rudolph’s virtuoso drawing technique—was to help initiate Rudolph’s fame as one of America’s most creative young architects. Much published and studied over the decades, the City of Sarasota has added it to its list of Locally Historically Designated Properties in 1985.

In 2018, the house was leased to the Sarasota Architecture Foundation. They did a number of important renovation projects at the house, and—according to David Zaccardelli, the SAF board member overseeing the process—they “. . . .replaced the front door; restored the louvers, stripping them to natural grain wood; painted the exterior; and restored the front and rear porch, including the originally designed metal bench on the porch overlooking Bayou Louise. We also repaired the driveway and walkway pavers and installed new screens.” Following the renovations, the SAF contracted a local interior designer to furnish the residence in period-appropriate 1950’s-style furniture—and then reopened it for public tours.

Paul Rudolph’s perspective rendering of the Healy Guest House—which shows its iconic catenary curve roof.

The guest house, a Florida vacation structure built for the Healy family, sits along the water in Sarasota.

JEWETT ARTS CENTER AT WELLESLEY COLLEGE

The Mary Cooper Jewett Arts Center (1955-1958) was a breakthrough for Rudolph: it was his first major non-residential project to get built (and indeed, his latter career would include numerous buildings for education.). A complex program had to be accommodated—but, just as important: Rudolph sought to design a Modern building that would be sympathetic with the Wellesley’s existing vintage buildings. Those had been done in a “Collegiate Gothic” mode—a traditional style which had been popular approach for the design of campuses. Rudolph had no interest in reproducing the exact forms and details of the older buildings, but he did seek to resonate with them—and so he used shapes, proportions, glazing, and structure in ways that would fit well into the existing campus.

After about a half-century of use, the building needed a variety of repairs, and the college commissioned a comprehensive study of its condition. Significant work was judged to be needed for the windows: Rudolph had framed the glazing in wood, and by the mid 2010’s the window assemblies were in need of replacement. Several options were considered, but the best one—rebuilding the windows to match Rudolph’s design, but using a hardier wood, and carefully integrating double-glazing—was seen to be too expensive for the available budget. In 2019, the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation participated in discussions about the renovation plans, and encouraged the preservation team to hold to Rudolph’s vision—and suggested a funding and scheduling approach that would allow the university to do the renovations correctly (and be able to afford to do so.)

Paul Rudolph’s Jewett Arts Center, at Wellesley College. To resonate with campus’ other buildings (which had been designed in the Collegiate Gothic style), the new building was detailed to include coupled columns, pointed skylights, modulated metal screening, and a carefully articulated wood-framed window system.

One of Paul Rudolph’s details of the building’s exterior. This is a plan-detail, showing a concrete column (In a 4-lobed shape, which evokes the campus’ vintage Gothic-style building details), and a corner of the wood-framed glazing system. When constructed, the building was single-glazed (which was standard for the time).

YALE ART & ARCHITECTURE BUILDING

Paul Rudolph’s most famous work, the Yale Art & Architecture Building (1958-1964, rededicated as “Rudolph Hall” in 2008) had—after a major fire, years of patchy repairs and partial/unsympathetic renovations, and four decades of hard use by students—fallen into sorry shape. Yale even considered demolishing it, but a variety of causes (including significant support from Sid. R. Bass) brought forth a respectful and comprehensive renovation. The work included a focus on major systems (HVAC, lighting) and materials (particularly the condition of the exterior concrete and the glazing): they were upgraded, brought up to code, fixed, and—most important as the guiding principle—done in a way that maintained the forms and spirit of Rudolph’s vision for the school.

Although Paul Rudolph is famous for his perspective drawings, he also sometimes chose other graphic forms—like axonometric or isometric projections (the latter of which is used here, in his drawing of the Yale building.)

Windows—their form, details, and framing—are a part of every architects palette—and Paul Rudolph varied how they were handed in his design at Yale. Here they’re shown the process of replacement during the renovation.

PRESERVATION: THE ONGOING CHALLENGE

Sometimes preservation is straightforward—but more often there are difficulties—technical, budgetary, and philosophical. The ancient Greek riddle of the Ship of Theseus provides a paradigmatic example of the latter:

That legendary hero, Theseus, upon finishing his adventures and long journey, returned to Athens by ship. Honoring him, the ship was kept in the harbor for hundreds of years—held sacred as a memorial to this great and most heroic warrior. But, over centuries, the ship’s parts needed to be replaced: first a few planks, then a mast, a beam, some decking…. By end of many years, every part of the ship had—piece-by-piece—been replaced. It happened slowly—so gradually that it had hardly been noticed—but what ultimately stood in the harbor was a ship made entirely of new materials, none of which had been present in Theseus’ time. So the questions arose: Could this really be considered Theseus’ ship? Did it have a claim on authenticity? The form of the ship was the same, and the replacements were done slowly, over long years—and each time with meticulous care and good faith—but was it the same ship?

Had Theseus’ ship been preserved? That’s the essence of the question—one that’s been puzzled over for two millennia. The model can applied to many things: How much of the human body can be replaced, and still be considered human (or the same person)? How much can the staff of a design firm turn-over, before the fundamental nature of the entity is lost? How many members of a group can be replaced, and it still be the “same” band (or sports team)?

And what about when preserving a buildings? How much can be changed, and still be an authentic work of the original architect?

These issues are pertinent to the legacy of Paul Rudolph!

• How much of a Paul Rudolph building can be changed or replaced, and it still really be a Paul Rudolph design?

• Can one demolish a Rudolph building and re-build it later (with all or substantially new materials)—and claim that it is still a real work of Paul Rudolph?

The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation is pledged to protecting Rudolph’s legacy—including a focus on preservation. We are alive to these questions—and we aspire to bring integrity, knowledge, and rigor into all the cases which come to our attention. WE ARE WATCHING.

WHAT YOU CAN DO

• If you know of any Paul Rudolph buildings that might be threatened—please contact us at: office@paulrudolphheritagefoundation.org

• If you are thinking of renovating or changing a Paul Rudolph design, please feel truly welcome to talk to us: we’ll be happy to share our knowledge and experience.

• Stay up-to-date with bulletins about the latest developments—and to get them, please join our foundation’s mailing list. You’ll get all the updates, (as well as other Rudolph news.)—and you can sign-up at the bottom of this page.

The Ship of Theseus, a famous and ancient riddle (and philosophical problem) with ongoing relevance for preservation—including for Paul Rudolph buildings.

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IMAGE CREDITS

NOTES:

The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation (a non-profit 501(c)3 organization) gratefully thanks all the individuals and organizations whose images are used in this non-profit scholarly and educational project.

The credits are shown when known to us, and are to the best of our knowledge, but the origin and connected rights of many images (especially vintage photos and other vintage materials) are often difficult determine. In all cases the materials are used in-good faith in our non-profit scholarly and educational efforts. If any use, credits, or rights need to be amended or changed, please let us know.

When Wikimedia Commons links are provided, they are linked to the information page for that particular image. Information about the rights to use each of those images, as well as technical information on the images, can be found on those individual pages.

CREDITS, FROM TOP-TO-BOTTOM, AND LEFT-TO-RIGHT:

Barcelona Pavilion, 1929: vintage photo;  Barcelona Pavilion, rebuilt in the 1980’s: Ashley Pomeroy via Wikimedia Commons;  Mies’ Barcelona Pavilion cruciform column detail: vintage drawing;  Paul Rudolph analytical drawing of the Barcelona Pavilion: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Chart of trust in government: Pew Research Center;  Drawing of Healy Guest House: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Photograph of Healy Guest House: courtesy of the Sarasota Architectural Foundation;  Photograph of Jewett Arts Center: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Detail of column and glazing system at Jewett Arts Center: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Isometric drawing of the Yale Art & Architecture Building: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Photograph of glazing renovation at the Yale Art & Architecture Building: Hoffmann Architects, Inc., via Wikimedia Commons;  Mosaic of ancient Greek ship: Dennis Jarvis, via Wikimedia Commons

Rudolph's BIGGS RESIDENCE: Demolition (but No Permission?)

The Biggs Residence—a Rudolph design of 1955-1956, in Delray Beach, Florida—has just now been demolished. It is pictured here from the time it received a Merit Award in the 1959 Homes for Better Living Awards sponsored by the AIA.

AN ACCELERATING RATE OF DESTRUCTION

The Burroughs Wellcome headquarters building and research center, in Durham, North Carolina—one of Paul Rudolph’s most iconic designs, and a structure of historic importance—has been turned into demolition debris.

In the last several years, it seems like we’ve experienced an acceleration in the destruction and threats to our architectural heritage—and this has hit the works of Paul Rudolph especially hard. Several important Rudolph buildings are now threatened, or have been outright destroyed or removed—and they are some of Paul Rudolph’s profoundest, key works:

• Burroughs Wellcome: DEMOLISHED

• Walker Guest House: REMOVED—taken apart, and moved to an unknown location

• Orange County Government Center: DEMOLISHED—partially, with the balance changed beyond recognition

• Niagara Falls Main Library: THREATENED

• Boston Government Service Center: THREATENED

• Milam and Rudolph Residences: SOLD -or- ON THE MARKET—with no assurances that new owners won’t demolish or change them beyond recognition

The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation advocates for the preservation and proper maintenance of buildings designed by Rudolph—and is available to consult with owners about sensitive adaptive reuse, renovation, and redevelopment of Rudolph buildings (especially as an alternative to demolition!)

But, vigilant as we are, sometimes we’re taken aback by news of a precipitous demolition or marring of one of Rudolph’s great designs.

THE LATEST DESTRUCTION OF A RUDOLPH BUILDING

The opening of Mike Diamond’s article about the demolition of the Biggs Residence, which appeared in the March 12, 2021 issue of the Palm Beach Post.

We’re shocked that yet another of Paul Rudolph’s fine works of architecture has been demolished—and, if the news report is accurate, it’s been allegedly done without even a permit.

The Biggs Residence is a Rudolph-designed residence in Delray Beach, Florida, from 1955-1956. Over the years, the subsequent owner or owners have not been kind to it: there have been numerous and highly conspicuous changes and additions which cannot be called sympathetic to Paul Rudolph’s original design. New owners have, in the last few years, been planning to remove the offending changes and accumulated construction—and have been lauded for their good intentions. Repairs and restorations were to be done, as well as alterations and additions that were to be sympathetic to the building (and be resonant with Paul Rudolph’s approach to planning and construction.) Plans were filed, and the owner’s architect—an award winning firm—produced a well-composed “justification statement” which offers some interesting and convincing thinking about how they intended to proceed with the project, their design strategies and solutions, and how they were to have the property “rehabilitated.”

But—

But, according to March 12th article in the Palm Beach Post, much more has actually happened at the site. Their reporter, Mike Diamond, reports that the current owners “. . . .were found to have violated the city’s building code by demolishing the house without a permit from the city’s Historic Preservation Board.”

This site photo shows that, as of the moment it was taken, some of the Biggs Residence’s structural steel was still in place—but most of the rest of the house (exterior and interior walls, windows, ceilings, finishes, cabinetry, fittings…) has been demolished and removed.

The article further says that the owners “. . . .must obtain an after-the-fact demolition permit. . . . They also face steep fines for committing and ‘irreversible’ violation of the city’s building code.” The owners are disagreeing, and claiming that the city misinterpreted their documents and, in the article’s words, their lawyer claims that “. . . .the city should have realized that the approvals for renovation could have resulted in the house being demolished based on its deteriorating condition….”

That is a claim which an attorney for the city and a city planner both dispute.

SERIOUS QUESTIONS

Perhaps there were good reasons for the owners to proceed this way—but there are serious questions:

• What were their compelling reasons?

• What were the building’s actual conditions, which led them to decide for demolition?

• What alternatives were considered?

• Could there have been other approaches?

• What did the architect think of this decision to demolish?

No doubt, there will be further developments in this case, and we will be following it.

PAUL RUDOLPH’S DESIGN AT tHE BIGGS RESIDENCE: PURITY OF CONCEPT

The Biggs Residence was—and now, unfortunately, we’ll have to speak of it in the past tense—an important part of Paul Rudolph’s oeuvre. There he continued exploring several design themes he’d been working on, ever since he’d returned from service in World War II and restarted practice in Florida—and at Biggs, perhaps, he brought one of those themes to its most perfect realization.

Rudolph’s perspective rendering for the Biggs Residence—a drawing which shows his original platonic intent: a pure “rectangular prism” floating above the ground.

Illustrations from Le Corbusier’s manifesto, “Vers une Architecture” (“Towards An Architecture”), in which he speaks of the compelling beauty of pure forms.

As you can see from Rudolph’s perspective rendering (above-left), his conception was quite “platonic”: he was intent on creating a pure form, “floating” above the earth, and tethered to it as lightly as possible—in this case, by an open staircase and a few slender uprights. Even the service block (presumably to contain or screen the boiler, and maybe an auto,) sheltering below, was fully detached from the prime living volume. Such a conception (and goal) comes out of one of the root obsessions of the Modern movement in architecture: a kind of purism which is animated by a love of geometric forms, and which eschews all that might obscure that purity. Le Corbusier, in his foundational book, “Vers une Architecture” (“Towards An Architecture”) puts it boldly:

“Architecture is the masterly, correct and magnificent play of masses brought together in light. Our eyes are made to see forms in light; light and shade reveal these forms; cubes, cones, spheres, cylinders or pyramids are the great primary forms which light reveals to advantage; the image of these is distinct and tangible within us without ambiguity. It is for this reason that these are beautiful forms, the most beautiful forms. Everybody is agreed to that, the child, the savage and the metaphysician.”

Of course, interest in (and obsession with) such “pure” geometric forms goes back to the ancients (i.e.: the term “platonic”), and even in the 18th century—a time when classical architecture was dominant, including its full ornamental armamentarium—architects like Claude-Nicolas Ledoux and Étienne-Louis Boullée produced visionary drawings of architectural projects that embraced such purity (with perhaps the most famous being Ledoux’s design for a spherical villa.)

Claude-Nicolas Ledoux’s view of a spherical country house. He fully developed the design, including plans and sections.

Paul Rudolph, born during Modernism’s heroic years. was educated by the founder of the Bauhaus himself, Walter Gropius (who was head of the architecture program at Harvard while Rudolph was a student there). He could not have helped being immersed, taught, and saturated in such aesthetic ideals—and he brought them into his work.

Looking at Rudolph’s oeuvre, we can see that he tried this platonic approach to residential design prior to Biggs: with the Walker Residence project of 1951—but that remained unbuilt; and the Leavengood Residence of 1950—but that building had a more complex program, and thus many more appurtenances outside of the house’s main body (and it also had visually firmer connections to the ground.) So Leavengood did not approach the platonic ideal anywhere as closely as Biggs.

THE AESTHETICS (AND DRAMATICS) OF STRUCTURE

An view of the interior of the Galerie des Machines, one of the exhibition buildings erected for the 1889 world’s fair in Paris. The architects (headed by Ferdinand Dutert) and the engineers (headed by Victor Contamin) dramatically showed the potentials of steel and iron—both as spanning structure and as an expressive medium. The size of the building can be judged from the figures in the distance.

In the initial decades of Rudolph’s career—given the simplicity of the programs for which he was asked to design, and the often limited budgets—structure was one of the few ways that he could explore the potentials of architectural design, and he fully used it as an expressive tool. Whether by doubling vertical members (as he did at the 1951 Maehlman Guest House and the 1952 Walker Guest House), or by using a dramatic suspended catenary roof system (as at the 1950 Healy (“Cocoon”) Guest House), or anticipating the utilization of curved plywood for structural roof arches (as at the 1951 Knott Residence project), Rudolph was always looking at ways to transcend structure’s function, and raise it to the poetics of design.

Certainly, this expressive use of structure has always been a concern of architects, from Gothic cathedral builders to the creators of the titanic structures of iron and steel which emerged during the 19th Century (especially in France, England, and the US).

The “masters” of modernism—having abandoned expressive styles, modes, and motifs available to previous generations—often turned to using structural systems as an important part of their architectural palette, and they did so in inventive ways. Mies van der Rohe’s Farnsworth House ((1945-1951) is an icon of Modern architecture and residential design—and one of the most notable aspects of his design is the relationship he set-up between the planes of the floor and roof, and the building’s vertical steel columns. The columns are, or course, supporting elements—yet Mies plays with their role, having them visually slide past the floor and roof’s perimeter steel members. This confers a partially floating quality to those planes—possibly one of Mies’ prime goals. [It’s also notable that Philip Johnson, at his Glass House (1947-1949), took yet another direction with these relationships. He placed the vertical steel structural members inside the house’s volume, and integrating them with the frames which held the walls of glass—and thus absorbed the structure into the design of the building’s envelope.]

The eyes of the architectural world were on Mies’ design (and Johnsons!)—and Rudolph would have known them well. At Biggs, in contrast to Mies or Johnson, Rudolph chose to pull the perimeter structural frame noticeably inward from the outer edge house’s main floor volume above. Thus, instead of experiencing the building as a pair of planes (as with Mies), Biggs main living area is perceived as a separate volume (reinforcing its “platonic-ness”), only resting upon the structure. Moreover, instead of placing the beams in an overlapping relationship (as Mies did), he intersects them boldly—and they appear to be penetrating through each other.

LEFT: The Farnsworth House (1945-1951) by Mies van der Rohe. Its vertical steel columns visually “pass by” the floor’s and roof’s horizontal structural steel “C” members. ABOVE: In contrast to the Farnsworth House, the Biggs' steel columns and beams appear to pass through each other.

Not only can this be seen on Biggs’ exterior, but it is experienced on the inside as well: the large ceiling beams, which dramatically span the living room, also have the same interpenetrating relationship to the interior’s steel columns.

Those column-beam relationships did not exhaust Rudolph’s exploration of structure at Biggs. He had one more occasion in which he used exterior steel elements in an intriguing way: When the perimeter beams met at the outside corners, instead of butting them (as would be done in standard steel construction), he mitered them at the corners. [You can see this in an exterior photo below.] In this way, the upper and lower flanges of the steel beams were not just there for their structural role, but—via this mitering connection—their visual power as a pair of parallel planes was revealed.

THE PRACTICALITIES OF COMFORT AND CONVENIENCE

Even with such geometric ideals, structural intrigues, and the other fascinations in which creative architects like Rudolph engage, he was also a very practical designer—and sensitive to his client’s needs. At the point when he received the Biggs commission, he had nearly three dozen constructed projects “under his belt.” So, whatever his interest in building pure forms, his planning of the Biggs Residence included features which the owners would find gracious and practical.

The main (upper) floor contained:

• two bedrooms (well separated, providing for excellent spatial and acoustic privacy, and each with a significant amount of closets and its own bath)

• a central living/dining area (with large amounts of windows for good cross-ventilation—and the ability to catch breezes from the house’s raised design)

• a kitchen adjacent to the dining area (with a wise balance of openness and enclosure)

• a broad “storage wall” in the central area—a feature of American post-World War II residential design, pioneered by George Nelson

Paul Rudolph’s floor plan of the upper (main volume) level of the Biggs Residence, exhibiting his practical and gracious sense of planning.

The ground floor was also well thought out, and included:

• An exterior sitting area (well shaded from the Florida sun)

• A covered parking area (also shielding the car from solar overheating, as well as Florida’s occasional heavy rains)

• The entry and stairs (up to the main level)

• Additional storage or mechanical space (always useful)

The Biggs living room, in which some segments of the house’s structural steel can be seen—especially the pair of long beams which span the living space.

Another view of the living area—this time, towards the dining table at the end of the room, which sits near the storage wall. At the far right is the entry passage to the kitchen. In this photograph, one of room’s pair of large steel ceiling beams is strongly emphasized.

Raising the body of the building liberates space at the ground level, which is left open for shaded outdoor seating and parking. Structural steel—for the columns, and the inset perimeter and intermediary beams—is exposed, and the connections are composed and detailed with care.

FURTHER DEVELOPMENTS (AND WHAT YOU CAN DO)

We’ll keep looking into the Biggs case, and let you know how this develops.

If you have any information on this situation—or know of any other Paul Rudolph buildings that might be threatened—please contact us at: office@paulrudolphheritagefoundation.org

We can keep you up-to-date with bulletins about the latest developments—and to get them, please join our foundation’s mailing list. You’ll get all the updates, (as well as other Rudolph news.)—and you can sign-up at the bottom of this page.

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IMAGE CREDITS

The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation gratefully thanks all the individuals and organizations whose images are used in this scholarly and educational project.

The credits are shown when known, and are to the best of our knowledge. If any use, credits, or rights need to be amended or changed, please let us know.

Note: When Wikimedia Commons links are provided, they are linked to the information page for that particular image. Information about the rights to use each of those images, as well as technical information on the images, can be found on those individual pages.

Credits, from top-to-bottom, and left-to-right:

Biggs exterior view: photo by Ernest Graham, from a vintage issue of House & Home magazine, June 1959, courtesy of US Modernist Library;  Section-perspective drawing of Burroughs Wellcome building: by Paul Rudolph, © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Demolition photo of Burroughs Wellcome building: photography by news photojournalist Robert Willett, as they appeared in a January 12, 2021 on-line article in the Raleigh, NC based newspaper The News & Observer;  Perspective rendering of Biggs Residence: drawing by Paul Rudolph, © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Mies’ Farnsworth House column-beam relationship: photo by Benjamin Lipsman, via Wikimedia Commons;  Plan of Biggs Residence: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Photographs of interiors and exterior of Biggs Residence: photo by Ernest Graham, from a vintage issue of House & Home magazine, June 1959, courtesy of US Modernist Library;  Photograph of Paul Rudolph: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

Happy 119th Birthday to Luis Barragán !

The Torres de Satélite ("Satellite Towers",) located outside of Mexico City—one of the country’s first major monumentally sized Modern sculpture groups (whose highest tower is 170 feet.) It is the result of a combination of input from architect Luis Barragán, painter Jesús Reyes Ferreira, and sculptor Mathias Goeritz., and was inaugurated in 1958.

LUIS BARRAGAN WOULD HAVE BEEN 119 oN MARCH 9, 2012—AND TODAY WE CELEBRATE HIS BIRTHDAY!

If any architect’s work truly exemplifies Dieter Rams’ saying, “Less but Better”, it would be the Mexican architect Luis Barragán (1902–1988). Barragán’s oeuvre was known for an asceticism of form, and an utter avoidance of the casual or frivolous. Yet the buildings and spaces he created were brought to vivid life by careful composition, devoted detailing, keen juxtapositions and choices of materials, and—most famously—a florid use of color.

His work encompassed whole residential districts, artwork (like the Torres de Satélite show above), a chapel and convent, and other projects—but he is probably most well-known for individual homes he created, both for clients and for himself.

WITH BARRAGAN, MATERIAL BECOMES SPIRITUAL

Architect Luis Barragán (1902–1988)

Barragán is often classified as a “Minimalist”—but this would be an error, as the interior and exterior spaces he created are alive with a sensuous serenity. His is a body of work that aspires to embrace (and invoke) the spiritual. As Barragán himself put it:

“…the words beauty, inspiration, enchantment, magic, sorcery, charm and also serenity, silence, intimacy and amazement have disappeared at an alarming rate in publications devoted to architecture. All of them have found a loving welcome in my soul, and even if I am far from claiming to have made them complete justice in my work, they have never ceased to be my beacon.”

And:

“Any work of architecture which does not express serenity is a mistake.”

For those not familiar with Barragán’s oeuvre, here is a mosaic of images which may serve to convey the flavor—and, as important, the atmosphere—of his work:

Casa Gilardi

Fuente de los Amantes

Fountain spout and pool at Casa Barragán

Roof patio at Casa Barragán

Casa Gilardi

A close-up of the Torres de Satélite

A stair within Casa Barragán

Faro del Comercio

FAME, INFLUENCE—AND THE AFTERLIFE OF AN ARCHITECT

The book, by Emilio Ambasz, which accompanied the Museum of Modern Art’s 1976 landmark exhibit on Barragán

Luis Barragán received the Pritzker Architecture Prize in 1980 (and you can read his insight-filled acceptance speech here)—but he had not been very well-known, outside of Mexico, until the 1976 retrospective exhibition of his work at New York’s Museum of Modern Art. That exhibition was accompanied by a book, “The Architecture of Luis Barragan”—also published by the MoMA—whose complete text (by Emilio Ambasz, who curated the exhibit) and luminous photographs and informative drawings you can see here.

He was a direct influence on Louis Kahn (who received advice from him about the great open space at the heart of Kahn’s Salk Institute) and he was consulted by designers from both Mexico and other parts of the world.

Barragán—besides the inspiration which can, ongoingly, be taken from his work—has had another kind of afterlife. After he passed in 1988, his will directed that his estate be divided into different categories of materials, and allocated to several people who had been important in his life. The legacy that comprised his professional archives and copyrights went through more-than-one ownership, until this important body-of-work reached its current residence in Switzerland at the Barragan Foundation.

But that was not the end of the story. Jill Magid is an artist (working in various media), writer, and film-maker—who has had exhibitions at major venues around-the-world. She became fascinated with the numerous facets of the Barragán estate—-not the least of which include its location an ocean away from the architect’s homeland, Mexico; and (at the time Magid was doing her work) the perceived restrictions on access to the archive. Her artistic activism on this topic resulted in works in a number of forms: several exhibits, a 2016 book, and a 2018 film (both titled “The Proposal”)—and Magid’s project achieved further prominence when it was written about in a series of articles in The New Yorker.

Her project asked important questions about art, creativity, relationships, identity (both personal and national,) and artistic legacies (both their control and protection). We know that these are complex matters, and all sides can bring forth pertinent evidence and cogent arguments. Moreover, there seems to have been further developments since Magid’s exhibits, book and film came out—so we can offer no pronouncement about the important issues she raises. Nevertheless, what Magid presents is compellingly told (and includes a strikingly unorthodox proposal!) and you might find it of interest to view the film. You can see the trailer here; as well as view a more recent symposium about her project here.

BARRAGAN: AN ARCHITECT TO CELEBRATE !

Whatever the issues around the archives—and however their status may stand or change—the important thing about Luis Barragán is the amazing body-of-work which created during more than a half-century of practice. So, for this, the 199th anniversary of his natal day, we wish him a HAPPY BIRTHDAY !

A twilight view of the Torres de Satélite, a project on which Barragán collaborated.

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IMAGE CREDITS

The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation gratefully thanks all the individuals and organizations whose images are used in this scholarly and educational project. If any use, credits, or rights need to be amended or changed, please let us know.

Note: When Wikimedia Commons links are provided, they are linked to the information page for that particular image. Information about the rights to use each of those images, as well as technical information on the images, can be found on those individual pages.

Credits, from top-to-bottom, and left-to-right:

Torres de Satélite: photo by Octavio Alonso Maya Castro, via Wikimedia Commons;  Photo portrait of Luis Barragán: photo by Tomjc.55, via Wikimedia Commons;  Casa Gilardi with pool: photo by Ulises00, via Wikimedia Commons;  Fuente de los Amantes: photo by Susleriel, via Wikimedia Commons;  Fountain spout and pool at Casa Barragán: phot by Daniel Case, via Wikimedia Commons;  Roof patio at Casa Barragán: photo by  Ymblanter, via Wikimedia Commons;  Casa Gilardi interior: photo by Ulises00, via Wikimedia Commons;  A close-up of the Torres de Satélite: photo by ProtoplasmaKid, via Wikimedia Commons;  A stair within Casa Barragán: photo by  Francesco Bandarin, via Wikimedia Commons;  Faro del Comercio: photo by Cvmontuy, via Wikimedia Commons;  A twilight view of the Torres de Satélite: phot by Correogsk, via Wikimedia Commons  

ELIMINATING AN ICON

The Destruction of one of Rudolph's greatest Buildings: Burroughs Wellcome

FROM AN ICON OF DESIGN —

— TO DEMOLITION DEBRIS.

Paul Rudolph, over his half-century career in which he designed more than 320 projects, created buildings and interiors of landmark distinction—and none were more forward looking, more focused on the unity of form and function, and more architectonically/spatially exciting than his BURROUGHS WELLCOME headquarters and research center.

After a long fight to preserve one of his most well-known and well-loved designs, we now see that the owners have chosen destruction. An article in the North Carolina-based The News & Observer reports:

“[Dismantling]. . . has been underway internally for several months. But now the demolition has reached the point where workers are pulling the building apart and hauling away pieces by the truckload.”

Burroughs Wellcome’s main—and upliftingly inspiring—entry lobby—a powerful spatial experience that is now lost.

In previous posts we’ve reported on several facets of the Burroughs Wellcome building complex—showing its significance in multiple examples, including:

• the Nobel Prize-winning research which was done there

• it being the site of historic activist protest, which had the positive effect of leading to greater availability of life-saving treatment

• it being acknowledged, by historians and by critics and the people who worked there, as an architectural work of the greatest significance (and a wonderful environment in which to work)

• as a building where the most careful attention was applied to its design and details

• as a key early success—and the most architecturally prominent work—in the Research Triangle Park development

• as an example of the practical power of building flexibility-expandability into the building’s design and geometry

• and we’ve shown the building’s “star quality”—via the film and television productions which used the building as a site for inspiration—an indicator of its iconic design

“This building is an exciting and ingenious combination of forms [in which] one discovers new and different qualities of forms and spaces . . . a splendid climate for scientific scholarship and for the exchange of ideas.” — Fred A. Coe Jr., President of Burroughs Wellcome

“Don't mourn, organize!”

That’s an old saying among activists—encouraging them, even in defeat, to keep on fighting. The destruction of Burroughs Wellcome is a deep wound to this country’s cultural heritage—and that makes us even more committed to keep urging/advising/campaigning for the preservation (and proper care) of PAUL RUDOLPH’s architectural legacy.

Our commitment to preserving Rudolph’s work started early—

When Paul Rudolph's Micheels Residence was threatened, the challenge to its demolition went all the way to court. The owner, pushed by the promise of a quick sale to a new owner who wished to tear it down, claimed that Rudolph didn't really do the design, but was just drawing “what I told him to.” The judge—not knowing who Rudolph was—accepted the claim, and declared that if anyone wanted to save the building, they should simply “buy it.”

Stung by the lack of support and recognition of Rudolph’s legacy, Kelvin Dickinson (later President of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation) took all of the images he was in the process of digitizing from Rudolph’s personal archives and put them up on Flickr. He then created the public group: “The Art & Architecture of Paul Rudolph” as way to crowdsource images of other Rudolph projects—ones that might come down before he could visit them, or before they were seen and appreciated enough by the public in time to save them.

The Boston Government Service Center—a Paul Rudolph project of architectural and urbanistic significance—which we are currently campaigning to preserve.

The idea, begun in 2007, was powerful: his 3,000 images got 3.2 million views—and the group’s collection doubled to over 6,000 images. [These were later moved to the PRHF archives on our website, where they are paired with additional and current information: www.paulrudolphheritagefoundation.org/timeline]

And today we are still at it, adding updates and more information every day.

Sadly, the Burroughs Wellcome demolition is an update we wish we didn't have to make to our records. After so much writing and pouring over drawings of the building, it feels like losing a family member. But there are other Rudolph designs—right now—that are threatened, like the Boston Government Service Center (where, like the Micheels Residence, people are diminishing Rudolph’s role in its creation to excuse proposed demolition and/or redevelopment).

The lesson of every fight is this: If a building (especially one of Rudolph’s!) speaks to you or has meaning for you, then:

• take a photo of it

• talk about it

• write about it

• draw a sketch of it

• take your friends, students or family to see, walk around, and thru it

• and join with others—like the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation—to make sure that the building is well-cared for and saved as part of our larger cultural heritage

And if you see something going on at a Rudolph site—some sign that the building is threatened or not maintained—please let us know (we’re easy to contact). We learned about the threat to Burroughs Wellcome from a fan who lives near it and sent us photos out of concern. 

Your voice and vigilance matters

Maybe not enough today, but tomorrow it could save the next, beloved work of great architecture.

Paul Rudolph’s

IMAGE CREDITS

Perspective-section drawing, by Paul Rudolph, through the main body of the Burroughs Wellcome building: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Photographs of the Burroughs Wellcome building, in the process of demolition: photography by news photojournalist Robert Willett, as they appeared in a January 12, 2021 on-line article in the Raleigh, NC based newspaper The News & Observer; Lobby of Burroughs Wellcome building: Image courtesy of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, photograph by G. E. Kidder Smith; Boston Government Service Center: photo by Gunnar Klack, via Wikimedia Commons; Burroughs Wellcome building with flag: courtesy of the Wellcome Collection

Toying with Architecture: Rudolph, Lego, and Modularity

A FASCINATING IMAGE: Paul Rudolph, sitting on the floor and working—or playing (or both!)—with Legos. He looks to be creating what might be a high-rise residential structure that would express his ideas about how whole apartments could be manufactured and lifted-into-place (as what he called “the brick of the future.”) Around him are numerous boxes of Lego sets (at far left, a pair of them are sitting on a Mies Barcelona chair!), and in the foreground a large number of Lego blocks have already—through Rudolph’s hands—taken on architectonic form.

AND A REVEALING ONE: This photo is also interesting for what else one can detect about Rudolph’s working context. It was taken in one of Rudolph’s work spaces (his office at 54 West 57th Street) and, hung in the background, one can see models of two of Rudolph’s commissions. At the upper-right is a large model of his 1966 design for a resort community at Stafford Harbor, Virginia (and the form of that project’s clusters of housing resonate well with the Lego aesthetic.) Also at the top, just left of center, one can see a “Toio” floor lamp, designed by Achille Castiglioni (which is in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art.) While Italian lighting fixtures are now widely available in the US, when this early 1970’s photo was taken one was much less likely to encounter (and be able to purchase) examples of high-level imported industrial design. To the left of that is a Luxo lamp (which were then ubiquitous in architects’ offices as lighting for their drawing boards.) Image is from a photo print found within the archive of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation.

ARCHITECTS MAKE TOYS & TOYS MAKE ARCHITECTS

Architecture is usually a serious matter, as even the smallest construction projects entail large commitments of funds, time, and focus. Moreover, architects and builders must engage with issues of durability, fitness to purpose, the practical constraints of materials and available skills, and conformance with construction regulations that are meant to ensure safety. Anyone who has spent time on construction sites—particularly if it is during a site visit by an architect—quickly realizes that these are venues where frivolity is forbidden, and great tensions are at work.

But there’s also a long engagement between Modern architects and play—specifically: TOYS.

This Toy-Architect relationship operates in two directions:

• Architects that have designed toys—both literally, and in the sense that some of their work is toy-like.

• Toys that have designed architects—-in the sense that toys having a formative influence on them.

ARCHITECTS AS TOYMAKERS

Architects (and their close associates) have been surprisingly prolific in the creation of toys—and here are some better-known examples:

• Though the most famous building toys (A. C. Gilbert’s Erector Set and Frank Hornby’s Meccano) were not designed by architects, at least one of them—Gilbert’s—was inspired by his observation of actual steel girders used in large-scale construction.

  But the third most famous building toy—Lincoln Logs—invented in 1916, and still available today—was designed by an architect: John Lloyd Wright. (1892-1972.) He was Frank Lloyd Wright’s son, and—although he had a long and productive career designing a wide range of buildings—he’ll probably remain best known for the creation of this toy.

• The Bauhaus was also a source of toy designs, and the challenge of designing them was taken-up by some students.

  The most well-known example—and one which has continued to be in production—is a Building Blocks Set designed by Alma Siedhoff-Buscher (1899–1944) while she was a student at the Bauhaus. There were two versions: the first in 1923, with 32 blocks; and a larger set in the following year, with 39. The blocks, of various colors, shapes, and sizes, offer an almost infinite opportunity for creative compositions—figurative, architectural, and abstract—though it is best known with them assembled into the form of a sailboat (which was illustrated on the exterior of the set’s original packaging.)

  The flexibility of the Bauhaus style and approach (which allowed it to be applied to challenges as diverse in scale and purpose as architecture, city planning, furniture, textiles, lighting, typography, pottery—and toys!) has never stopped attracting designers—and an ever-widening audience of consumers. Thus, though the Bauhaus has past its centenary, its geometries, motifs, and overall “look” continue to be utilized for every type of design work—even for more recently designed objects of amusement. The growth and victory of this style, and indeed the identity “Bauhaus” itself, is deeply explored in Philipp Oswalt’s incisive book, “The Bauhaus Brand” published by Scheidegger and Spiess—a visually rich and penetrating study of how this “brand” has become omnipresent.

• It’s also worth nothing that the same playful. toy-creating spirit can be seen in another of the Bauhaus’s most notable productions: the Triadic Ballet, developed by Bauhaus teacher Oskar Schlemmer (1888–1943.)

  The ballet’s costume designs, by Schlemmer—which are more famous than the performance itself (some are shown here)—are perceivable as giant (human sized), moving toy creatures, many of which hew to the geometric Bauhaus aesthetic.

• Since models, of proposed buildings, are part of every architect’s practice, doll houses would seem to be a natural arena for their talents—and one of our earlier posts was about a very Modern Rudolphian version of a dollhouse.

  The ultimate example of an architect engaged in doll house design was the one created by the final master of the English Renaissance, Sir Edwin Lutyens (1869–1944). His Queen Mary’s Dolls’ House (completed in 1924 for Great Britain’s then reigning queen, and now to be seen at Windsor Castle) was an elaborate affair, and the Royal Collection Trust describes it as including “. . . .contributions from over 1,500 of the finest artists, craftsmen and manufacturers of the early twentieth century. From life below stairs to the high-society setting of the saloon and dining room, and from a library bursting with original works by the top literary names of the day, to a fully stocked wine cellar and a garden, created by Gertrude Jekyll, no detail was forgotten. The house even includes electricity, running hot and cold water and working lifts.”

• German Expressionist architect Hermann Finsterlin (1887–1973) is primarily known through his drawings: dreamlike visions of buildings which are often so fantastical that one wonders if they were intended for humans habitation.

  Finsterlin also designed charming, colorful toys: some with intersecting geometric forms, and others that are more recognizably architectonic. The latter types were designed as assemblies of smaller parts, which could be disassembled and, presumably, creatively repositioned into new configurations.

  Putting “Hermann Finsterlin toys” in Google Images yields a large number of pictures of his visionary drawings, as well as of his equally otherworldly models—but one will also see a some of of his toys. A screen capture (from such an image search), with a number of those toys, can be seen at right.

• That most serious of the Modern movement’s master architects, Le Corbusier, did have a playful side, but he’s not generally known to have designed any toys.

  But one model—which he used to explain the offset layout of apartments in his Unité d'habitation—is definitely toy-like. Such explanatory aids might seem “cute”—but that quality could well be an architect’s strategic choice, as the interest and even friendliness which models evoke can be effective tools of persuasion. Even so, looking at this intriguing image today, what is also evoked is a Corbusian version of Jenga.

• Charles Eames (1907–1978) and Ray Eames (1912–1988), partners professionally and in life, had—and continue to hold—world-wide reputations for their inventive approach to meeting the widest range of design challenges. Working in architecture, exhibit design, cinema, graphics, and—most famously—furniture, their designs are known for what futurist John Naisbitt would call “high touch”: a sense of human, personal interaction (something needed ever more powerfully in the midst of a technological society.) So, even though Eames-designed products (like their celebrated series of chairs) were manufactured by industrial processes, those objects convey a human and often playful spirit—and that was further evident in their design of films and exhibitions.

  In 1945, as part of their research into molding plywood into three-dimensional curved shapes, they created a two-part, child-scaled elephant seat. The compound curvatures, entailed in making it, were particularly challenging, and it never went into mass-production during the Eames’ lifetime [but, since 2017, it has been made available by Vitra.]

  Also in the play mode is the “House of Cards” set, designed by the Eames and originating in 1952 (with variant and larger versions, issued in subsequent decades.) Enjoyed, and marketed for both adults and children, the cards show a rich assortment of photographs or patterns and objects, and are slotted to allow them to be constructed into a variety of configurations. The card sets continue to be produced, and are also in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art.

The Rudolph family, with young Paul Rudolph at far left. This would have been taken probably shortly before he made the house model.

• The archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation include a letter from Paul Rudolph’s mother, Eurie Stone Rudolph. Internal evidence indicates that it was probably written in the mid-1960s (she makes reference to having visited the New York World’s Fair (1964-1965). The memories of her son, shared in that letter, include young Rudolph creating a miniature house. It is probably mentioned as evidence of his early interest in architecture—but what he built was also something approaching a doll house in scale and detail (though Rudolph would likely eschew that term.).

  She writes: “After we moved to Franklin, Paul decided to make a Model house, out of cardboard. It was an ideal home with everything a home could have in it. He made the furniture of first one thing and another. Made lamp bases from marbles, made a Gov. Winthrop Bookcase and little tiny books to go in the case. Made shingles for the house, about one forth inch wide and half an inch long. Made windows, then a friend gave him a little set of electric light[s] for the house. He had it all wired and would turn the lights on to show through the windows. When we moved to Athens [Alabama} we moved that six foot house as Paul did not want to give it up. It had given him a lot of pleasure to show it to people as they always seemed so interested in that he had made everything.” [The full text of this fascinating letter can be found in the catalog of the Paul Rudolph centenary exhibit.]

One notable point about many of the above toys (and also the one we’ll discuss below) is that they’re systems. A toy model set that allows one to construct a single type of thing (for example, of the Space Shuttle) is a system: a kit of parts that makes a whole. But most of the toys above are what Christopher Alexander called a generating system: a kit of parts that allows one to make multiple wholes. Built-in to generating systems is flexibility of arrangement and the freedom to invent new configurations. When this quality is found in a toy, that’s perfect for encouraging an exploration of (and sensitivity to) the possibilities of design.

FROEBELIZATION — TOYS CREATING ARCHITECTS?

The most famous connection between toys and Modern architecture goes in the other direction: not architects making toys, but rather: toys making architects. We speak, of course, about the Froebel Blocks. Friedrich Wilhelm August Fröbel (or Froebel) (1782–1852) was a German educator, active in the first half of the 19th Century. He was one of the creators of the modern recognition that children have unique needs and capabilities, created the concept of the kindergarten (including creating the word), and designed a comprehensive set of educational toys known as “Froebel gifts”. They were primarily composed of a series of progressively more sophisticated sets of blocks. Frank Lloyd Wright was given a set, shortly before he turned ten years old, and in his autobiography wrote:

“For several years I sat at the little kindergarten table-top ruled by lines about four inches apart each way making four-inch squares; and, among other things, played upon these ‘unit-lines’ with the square (cube), the circle (sphere) and the triangle (tetrahedron or tripod)—these were smooth maple-wood blocks. All are in my fingers to this day.”  

—and—

“The virtue of all this lay in the awakening of the child-mind to rhythmic structures in Nature… I soon became susceptible to constructive pattern evolving in everything I saw.”

What could be constructed from the blocks—and what creativity might it induce in a child? Wright clearly thought they were influential on him—and the fact that Le Corbusier and Buckminster Fuller were also exposed to the Froebel system is suggestive of a fruitful connection between this type of education and the formal results emerging when (and if) the child becomes a professional designer. Ultimately, such cause-and-effect remains in the realm of speculation—but it has received the deep exploration in the late Jeanne S. Rubin’s book: “Intimate Triangle: Architecture of Crystals, Frank Lloyd Wright and the Froebel Kindergarten".

The other scholar of this topic—perhaps world’s greatest expert on architectural toys—is Norman Brosterman, an architect, curator, historian, and writer. His collection (including building sets like the Froebel system) was acquired by the CCA - the Canadian Centre for Architecture. Several exhibits have focused on toys from that collection, and several books on the topic, by Brosterman, have been published: “Potential Archicture,” “Building in Boxes,” and “Inventing Kindergarten.”

Architectural historians have made-the-case that it would not be a great leap to go from the compositional possibilities offered by the Froebel sets of blocks -to- the designs of Wright. Brosterman and others have offered some visual evidence—as in this paring of images from one of his books (shown here.)

RUDOLPH AND LEGO

Although it ceased regular publication two decades ago, and has faded from public consciousness, LIFE magazine had been—for nearly 2/3 of a century—one of the titans of US magazine publishing and was part of the consciousness of every American. With a circulation of millions of copies-a-week, the famous LIFE logo—bold sans-serif letters within a red rectangle—became synonymous with the best in photojournalism: LIFE’s photographers and reporters delved into every aspect of the human experience and nature—from the playful -to- the most somber, from peaceful creativity -to- the darkest tragedies of war. With its enormous circulation and respect, anything—or anybody—that got published in LIFE was lifted to national attention.

LIFE’s December 15, 1972 Special Double Issue on the Joys of Christmas looked at the holiday from a variety of viewpoints, utilizing the photo-essay format for which the magazine was celebrated. The issue included articles about Bethlehem, holiday preparations and celebration on an American farm, a timeline of historic events that have happened on Christmas day, ongoing acts of charity from around the country, and examples of artistic and ornamental Christmas baking.

Among this smorgasbord of holiday celebration is an article that—even if there wasn’t an explicit Christmas connection, certainly carries a mood of joy: “Masterminds At Play”. On the magazine’s Contents page, the editors expressed their intent in this way:

“Some ingenious grown-ups get a chance to see what they can do with children’s playthings.”

And, in the article’s introductory text, they further explain:

“As every child who has grown-up within grabbing distance knows, toys fascinate adults. With a sympathetic nod to the kids, therefor, LIFE asked four particularly inventive adults to indulge their impulses and have a good time with gadgets usually only get a chance to play with.”

Their choice of creative adults was stellar—each masters in their own field: custom car designer George Barris (whose most famous work was the 1960’s TV version of the Batmobile), artist Norman Laliberte (whose colorful banners suffused the Vatican Pavilion at the New York World’s Fair), writer Lonne Elder III (known for his script for the classic film, “Sounder”), cinematic master Federico Fellini—and Paul Rudolph.

While Fellini clowned with some children’s makeup, and Elder wrote a brief play for a pair of marionettes, Rudolph worked with LEGO blocks—many sets of them (we counted at least 8 boxes of Legos in one photo Rudolph at work with them.). As the article’s text mentions, he supplemented the blocks with plastic rods. [Rudolph associate Ernest Wagner tells us that Paul Rudolph liked to explore the industrial surplus and plastic supply stores which could then be found on downtown New York’s Canal Street—and such venues would likely have been them source of those rods.]

We’ve reproduced Rudolph’s page below—and, in case the texts are hard to read, we’ve transcribed them for you. The introduction on Rudolph’s page explains:

Mastermind with Building Blocks

Architect Paul Rudolph is former head of the Yale School of Architecture and a pioneer of the use of modules—the prefabricated, prewired units that can be shipped to a building site and assembled in any one of countless configurations. Given a dozen sets of Lego to start with with, Rudolph noted how the toy building blocs resemble modules—moreover could be put together to form a very satisfying kind of skyscraper. Using plastic rods for extra support, Rudolph quickly built three scale-model apartment buildings and observed that he would be happy to design more buildings this way if only the blocks were slightly longer and narrower. Real modules have to be shipped by road, and “Legos wouldn’t quite fit.”

And the caption reads:

Working in his studio above, Rudolph assembles he small Lego pieces, which connect with interlocking teeth, then put all the parts together to form the larges of this models (right). It contains 35 to 40 living units in each of 11 clusters grouped around a central service core, and stands four feet high.

WHY LEGOS?

Of course, with it’s brick-like construction system and pieces, it would be natural to associate Lego with architecture. Over the decades, there have been numerous examples and exhibits of architects and designers using Legos, either attempting to recreate well-known buildings, or to explore new architectural designs.

For about the last decade, the Lego company has proclaimed a connection between their system and iconic architecture by issuing sets of blocks which are constructible into some of the most famous Modern architectural works of the 20th Century, among them: the Le Corbusier’s Villa Savoye, Utzon’s Sydney Opera House, SOM’s John Hancock Building, the United Nations headquarters—and even Mies van der Rohe’s Farnsworth House.

Wright seems to be a favorite, in that he’s the only architect that they’ve chosen who has the honor by having several of his buildings done as Lego sets: the Robie House, the Imperial Hotel, the Guggenheim Museum, and Fallingwater—the last one of which seems to work especially well with the Lego system.

But why did LIFE magazine connect Rudolph and Legos? Were the editors already aware of Rudolph’s oeuvre, and noticed the visual resonance between some of his projects and the Lego system? Or did they approach Rudolph, telling him the premise of the article, and ask him what he’d like to “play” with?

RUDOLPH, MODULARITY, aND “THE BRICK OF THE FUTURE”

We’ve seen no records about how Paul Rudolph’s participation in the LIFE article came about—but its text does point to a topic which was of ongoing and intense interest to Rudolph: what he called “the brick of the future” (which he also sometimes called “the twentieth century brick.”)

Those are Rudolph’s terms for a future possibility for architecture and the construction industry: entire apartments would be made off-site in factories, and then transported to the construction site. The construction site would have structures to receive these modules, and the apartment units—like modular bricks—would be lifted into their final locations and connected to utilities.

Generally, Rudolph envisioned that “brick of the future” apartment houses would be in the shape of towers—sometimes quite tall—and that’s what his design in the LIFE article looks like (see enlargement from the article, at right). But Rudolph also had additional possible configurations in mind: mid-rise stepped assemblies, and low-rise (two or three stories) versions, where the units would spread across a landscape.

Rudolph’s liking for, and interest in modular (or modular-like) “brick”-unit forms can be seen across most of his 50-year career—it is one of his major architectural, technological, aesthetic, and policy commitments—of which he explicitly and repeatedly spoke, and tried to bring to fruition in numerous projects.

Sometimes this affinity comes out of aesthetic considerations. Rudolph, well-aware of all chapters in the history of Modern design and art, would have digested the artistic genome of overlapping and projecting rectilinear forms. This type of design was manifest in the architecture and sculpture of the early decades of the Modern movement—and superb examples can be seen in this pair of sculptures by De Stijl artist George Vantongerloo (1886-1965) shown here (and one can easily imagine them being constructed out of Legos!) Also, creating compositions like this was a standard exercise in Modern, Bauhaus-derived design education programs—and remains so in some schools today. Even more pertinent, it’s worth remembering that Rudolph was a student, at Harvard, of Walter Gropius—the former director of the Bauhaus.

One can see this artistic, sculptural approach, using module-like forms, in his 1960 project for O’Brien’s Motor Lodge (shown below), and in his 1963 design for the Orange County Government Center.

Of the O’Brien project, Rudolph himself later connected it to his modular concerns, saying:

“In a sense this is an earlier study of the formal architectural possibilities of the large scale, three-dimensional, pre-fabricated unit (Twentieth Century Brick), but constructed by traditional methods of brick and concrete.”

One can also see his idea to use modular, brick-like apartments used—not just as a form, but explicitly as a construction system—in a design from about the same time: his 1959 project for a Trailer Apartment Tower (see Rudolph’s sketch at right). He said of this proposal:

“For a number of years now I have felt that one way around the housing impasse would be to utilize either mobile houses or truck vans placed in such a way that the roof of one unit provides the terrace for the one above. Of course the essence of this is to utilize existing three dimensional prefabricated units of light construction originally intended as moving units but adapted to fixed situations and transformed into architecturally acceptable living units. One approach would be to utilize vertical hollow tubes, probably rectangular in section, 40 or 50 stories in height to accommodate stairs, elevators and mechanical services and to form a support for cantilever trusses at the top. These cantilever trusses would give a ‘sky hook’ from which the three dimensional unit could be hoisted into place and plugged into its vertical mechanical core.”

PAUL RUDOLPH’S MODULAR PORTFOLIO

Looking through Rudolph’s oeuvre, one can see that the modular, LEGO-like approach comes up repeatedly. In addition to the projects shown above, below we’ll look at 4 others which evidence his ongoing interest in this such a construction/design system.

1967 - GRAPHIC ARTS CENTER

Designed to be placed on the Western edge of Manhattan island (slightly north of the site of the World Trade Center), the Graphic Arts Center was a to be a large complex that would include housing (4,000 apartments!), offices, manufacturing, shops, schools, a marina, and other facilities. Rudolph describes his intent—including the use of a modular building approach:

“The proposals for the Graphic Arts Center are based on the concept of the megastructure, or the idea that many functions can be served in a single large building complex. In this case there are facilities for industry (lithography, legal and financial printers); office space; 4,000 apartments of varying kinds; elementary schools, kindergartens; play spaces at grade, as well as on platforms in the sky; community center; restaurants; commercial shopping; gardens and recreational space; and parking-trucking access incorporating portions of the West Side Highway. In other words, it is a city within a city. The idea of a megastructure is different from the idea of building an apartment house, industrial and office space, schools and restaurants. Rather, it is the intent to build all of these multiple functions in one complex.”

“The apartment houses are, perhaps, conceptually the most interesting, since they propose to utilize techniques developed by the mobile house industry (this industry now accounts for one out of five new housing starts in the United States and the graph is steadily going upward). These units would hang from trusses supported on masts which contain elevator and stair cores, plus vertical lines of utilities. By arranging the mobile house units in “log cabin” fashion, the roof for one becomes the terrace for the one above.”

A model of a one of the towers of the Graphic Arts Center. One can see the connection to Rudolph’s other modular-oriented designs, as well as the model he later made for the LIFE article.

A portion of Paul Rudolph’s large model of the proposed Graphic Arts Center (which was to be built in lower Manhattan) in which one can get an idea of the project’s immense scale.

1968 - ORIENTAL MASONIC GARDENS

Prefabrication was part of the architectural zeitgeist of the 1960’s, and the US government—through their “Operation Breakthrough”—sponsored a large number of experiments in an attempt to find out if industrialized housing was a viable approach for creating housing. That was the context for Oriental Masonic Gardens, a federally-aided project designed help solve housing shortages in New Haven. Rudolph’s design included 2-to-5 bedroom apartments, and consisted of 148 units on 12.5 acres. The housing was made of pre-fabricated units (a total of 333 modules), which were brought to the site and arranged in a two-level configuration (which gave each residence a private yard).

Bedeviled by issues of construction quality, this forward-thinking experiment was eventually demolished in 1981. Rudolph acknowledged the problems of the project, but continued to think that this approach—prefabrication—contained the possibility of positive solutions to creating housing that was economical, but which also allowing for formal and spatial variety.

Oriental Masonic Gardens’ modules, whose designs allowed for a variety of differently sized housing options, were manufactured off-site and then craned into place.

The homes were duplexes, and were placed in cruciform configurations. Even though they were contiguous, each home in these 4-unit clusters had their own separate yard.

1967 - LOMEX: THE LOWER MANHATTAN EXPRESSWAY

The Lower Manhattan Expressway (LOMEX) was a project to connect bridges (that were located on the opposite sides of Manhattan island) with a new throughway. The existing streetscape would not allow for high-speed movement between those two points, and so a new, borough-spanning solution was called for. Rather than this being just a matter of highway engineering, Paul Rudolph approached it comprehensively: his design embraced multiple modes of transportation, housing, offices and other facilities—-all within a dramatic megastructural vision that took on varying shapes and heights to accommodate different functions.

A key aspect of Rudolph’s design was the use of prefabrication for the high-rise housing. Vertical structures (which had, built-into them, elevators, stairs, and utilities like plumbing and electricity) would be erected; and then apartments—modular units manufactured off-site—would be trucked-in and slotted into place. Here again, this modular system could be flexible, with the units arranged in different configurations, and on structures of varying heights.

Paul Rudolph’s perspective rendering of LOMEX, which would have spanned all across Manhattan. In the distance (to be located at Manhattan island’s edges) can be seen high-rise residential towers that are part of the project—and they were to use the pre-manufactured “brick of the future” housing system that Rudolph envisioned.

Rudolph’s drawing, illustrating an aspect of the LOMEX project’s high rise housing system. Housing modules—the “brick of the future”—would be manufactured off-site, and delivered to the site by truck (see bottom of drawing.) They would then be craned upward, and set into permanent place on the building’s structural system.

1980 - THE COLONNADE

Rudolph intended these luxury condominiums, The Colonnade in Singapore, to be built using the modular, “brick of the future” approach that he’d been investigating and trying for decades. For reasons of timing and local economics, it ended up being built with more conventional construction methods—but one can see, both in Rudolph’s drawings and in the final result, that the form of the concept was retained. Rudolph’s original intent still may have potential for the construction of buildings like this.)

Shown is a portion of one of Rudolph’s drawing for The Colonnade: an isometric rendering, showing the exterior, with highly articulated volumes, grid-like horizontal and vertical structural elements, and a profusion of balconies. The modular intent is clearly manifest in this vision.

Apartments in The Colonnade are among the most sought after in Singapore. Even though it was ultimately built using conventional methods, its as-built presence still conveys Rudolph’s original concept of it being constructed with pre-fabricated units.

RUDOLPH’S FURTHER APPLICATIONS OF MODULARITY

Rudolph’s interest in, and attempts to apply the principle of flexible modularity, was not limited to building-scale projects. He also brought this approach to the design of construction systems, furniture, and lighting—and here are examples of each:

1960’s - RIBBED CONCRETE BLOCK SYSTEM

Rudolph’s most famous building is his Yale Art & Architecture Building, well-known for its ribbed concrete surfaces. To achieve that finish, the concrete was cast-in-place and then bush-hammered by hand. Rudolph liked the shadowed-/textured effect that the ribbing created, and used it in other buildings which he designed (i.e.: Endo Labs and the Boston Government Service Center). But that construction method proved too expensive to use in some projects, and Rudolph and his staff sought an alternative which would produce visually similar results.

For Crawford Manor, a 109 unit high-rise apartment building for elderly residents in The Bronx, NYC, they designed a set of concrete blocks with vertically ribbed surfaces. The system would still give the serrated effect that Rudolph wanted, but which would be significantly less expensive to construct. A variety of shapes. to accommodate different construction conditions, were designed—a Lego-like “generating system”. Construction began in 1964 and finished in 1966.

In addition to the cost savings. the ribbing visually “broke down” down the scale of concrete block (so as to avoid an unwanted monolithic look to the building), and it also prevented run-off stains: water is channeled into the interstices while the front of the block is exposed to cleaning. Rudolph’s modular ribbed concrete blocks were later used in several of his other buildings, such as the Chorley Elementary School and UMass Dartmouth.

A drawing, from Paul Rudolph’s office, showing precast and ribbed concrete blocks (as used at Crawford Manor). The version show (straight, with ribbing on both sides) would be only one of the set of shapes produced for this residential high-rise..

In this photo, one can see a variety of construction conditions (flat surfaces, curved surfaces, exterior and interior corners) for which different shapes of pre-cast ribbed concrete blocks were designed and manufactured.

1970’s - FURNITURE SYSTEM

Paul Rudolph designed his own Manhattan residence: his “Quadruplex” penthouse, near the United Nations. Rudolph often included built-in seating in his projects, and that’s very much part of this penthouse’s design. But he also wanted free-standing, movable furniture, and could not find any existing (to purchase) that met with his approval—so he created his own.

Rudolph came upon a system of connectors and metal tubes (“nodes and struts”) which was often used in retail settings to create display shelving. This was—like Lego—truly a “generating system.” Seeing the immense flexibility which the system offered, Rudolph proceeded to design (and have fabricated) a variety of furniture for his home. [Authorized editions of these designs continue to be offered, via the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation.]

Among the purposes, for which Rudolph utilized the connector and tube system, was to create a display stand for an original Louis Sullivan panel which he owned (and that he placed in the Quadruplex’s living room.)

In addition to a rolling dining chair (shown above), Rudolph also created a rolling lounge chair, and as well as side-tables. The chairs are now being made available through the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation.

1970’s - LIGHTING SYSTEM

It’s fair to say that Rudolph was obsessed with light: both natural and artificial, and the effects that could be created with it. Through most of his career he designed custom lighting for his projects—and because he used standard electrical components (and sometimes industrial surplus), these inventive fixtures could also be inexpensive.

This interest in light fixture design evolved further. Architectural historian Timothy M. Rohan, in his monograph on Rudolph, writes:

Although he cared little for the everyday workings of business, Rudolph could be quite entrepreneurial. In 1976, Rudolph and[Ernst] Wagner founded Modulightor, a firm that sold lighting. . . .”

The system which Rudolph came up with used a limited number of parts and shapes—but, very much like Lego, this generating system of components could be arranged and assembled to create a vast range of light fixtures: sconces, art lighting, wall washers, chandeliers, task lights…. Rudolph not only designed the system, per se (which was simultaneously economical in approach, yet allowed for broad creativity), but he also designed a large line of fixtures which utilized the system. The Modulightor company continues to offer fixtures, using his approach.

Rudolph showed that, even with a limited set of shapes, an immense range of configurations are possible. This is manifest in abundance in the lighting system available from Modulightor—a firm he co-founded with Ernst Wagner. Shown are a few examples of the types and shapes of light fixtures that can be built from the generating system that Rudolph invented.

IMAGE CREDITS

Lincoln Logs: John Lloyd Wright, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons; Triadic Ballet: Fred Romero, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons; Queen Mary’s Dolls’ House: Rob Sangster, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons;  Le Corbusier Model: from Le Corbusier, Oeuvre complète (Zurich, 1950), vol 4, p 186, collection Canadian Centre for Architecture, Montréal; Eames Elephant: Sinikka Halme, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons;  Eames House of Cards: SebastianHelm, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons;  Rudolph Family: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Frobel Blocks Set: Kippelboy, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons;  Froebel Student Using Blocks: Maria Kraus-Boelte/John Kraus: The kindergarten guide: An illustrated hand-book. 1877, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons;  Vantongerloo Sculptures: http://sdrc.lib.uiowa.edu/dada/Classique_Baroque/pages/033.htm, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons;   O’Brian’s Motor Lodge: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Trailer Apartment Tower: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Graphic Arts Center Model in Rudolph Office: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Graphic Arts Center Model: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Oriental Masonic Gardens Construction Photo: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Oriental Masonic Gardens: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  LOMEX Perspective: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  LOMEX Construction Diagram: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Colonnade Drawing: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Crawford Manor Block Drawing: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Crawford Manor Photograph:  Photo by Kelvin Dickinson, © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Sullivan Panel: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Rolling Chair: Courtesy of Peter Aaron;  Modulightor Fixtures:  Courtesy of Modulightor

MEETING ALERT - The Future of Rudolph's BOSTON GOVERNMENT SERVICE CENTER - December 17th

Paul Rudolph’s overall design drawing for the Boston Government Service Center. A significant portion of the complex—the Hurley Building at left—is still under threat of full or partial demolition—but we’ve heard that the state agency that’s seeking to develop the site may be open to including preservation as a central tenet of the project. You can help reinforce that direction at the upcoming Public Meeting on December 17th.

THE SITUATION:

The BOSTON GOVERNMENT SERVICE CENTER—one of Paul Rudolph’s largest and most multifaceted public buildings - remains threatened.

The state has proposed developing the site—and a key part of their plan is handing-off an integral part of the complex—the HURLEY BUILDING—to a developer. There have been various reports and meetings to present the state’s plans—and they’ve received a lot of push-back.

We’ve published several articles on the building, including ones examining and questioning this development project (like this one, which looked at the alternatives the state’s been considering.) Several critical letters, statements, and reports—protesting the assumption that demolition is the only path to a positive future for this complex—have been issued, including from the Boston Preservation Alliance and Docomomo-New England.

Even so, the state’s “messaging” about the project (while offering some useful information and ideas) also persists in trying to divorce Paul Rudolph from design responsibility for the building—thus attempting to undermine the Hurley Building’s architectural significance (and we’ve addressed that myth here.)

MEETING ALERT:

TONIGHT - Thursday, December 17th, at 6:30PM —there will be a VIRTUAL [Zoom] PUBLIC MEETING about the project.

DCAMM says that:

• Attendees will learn about the state’s goals for the redevelopment

• Staff will present draft Project Proposal for the redevelopment

• Staff will ask for your comments

You are invited to attend (and attendance is Free)

TAKE ACTION:

• Attend the Public ZOOM meeting on Thursday, December 17th, 6:30 PM—and speak out: Important information will be shared and your presence will show support for the preservation of this important work of public architecture. Full meeting info is below—but you must RSVP (see link below.)

• Sign the petition: “Save the Boston Government Service Center” — sign it HERE - and share it with your friends and all who appreciate great architecture.

A corner view of the Hurley Building (with a portion of the body of the building in the background at right)—an integral part of of the Boston Government Service Center designed by Paul Rudolph. Public input is invited at November 19th’s ZOOM meeting—and you’re urged to attend and comment (see registration info below).

HOW TO ATTEND THE MEETING:

NAME OF EVENT: Charles F. Hurley Building Redevelopment

DATE & TIME: Thursday, December 17, 2020 — 6:30 PM

FORMAT: Virtual (“ZOOM”) Public Meeting

TO ATTEND: the meeting is Free and Open-To-The-Public—but you must RSVP (see below)

RSVP HERE: https://us02web.zoom.us/webinar/register/WN_Zw1ed5LORHqn_M2OsqgqBg

SPONSORED BY: Massachusetts’ Division of Capital Asset Management and Maintenance (DCAMM)

ZOOM REGISTRATION ASSISTANCE: If you need assistance accessing the ZOOM registration link, please email apoggenburg@reginavilla.com -or- call (617) 357-5772 x 26

DCAMM WEBSITE [Note: this is the government’s current info page on the project]: https://www.mass.gov/service-details/charles-f-hurley-building-redevelopment

QUESTIONS OR COMMENTS TO DCAMM ABOUT THIS PROJECT: e-mail them to: HurleyReDev.dcamm@mass.gov.

The artist’s impression of the Great Seal of the United States—a section of one of Constantino Nivola’s impressive and inspiring murals within the Boston Government Service Center’s Hurley Building. These murals cannot be moved—adding to the urgency that the Hurley building be preserved.

PHOTO CREDITS:

Paul Rudolph Drawing of Overall Design of the Boston Government Service Center: © The estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Corner View of the Hurley Building: Image courtesy of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, photograph by G. E. Kidder Smith; Nivola Mural Eagle: Photo by Kelvin Dickinson © The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

Celebrating Modernism in North Carolina (the home of Burroughs Wellcome)

Victoria Ballard Bell’s new book, TRIANGLE MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Her well-illustrated and deeply-researched history covers the movement to bring Modern architecture to the “Triangle” region of North Carolina. The book shows Modernism’s flourishing—and the generations of architects who have practiced in that area.

ARCHITECTURAL MODERNISM iN NORTH CAROLINA— INCREASING (AND WELL-DESERVED) ATTENTION

The Carolinas have always attracted significant architectural scholarship: from Plantations of the Carolina Low Country, Samuel Galliard Stoney’s study of the great antebellum mansions and their estates -to- Charleston Architecture 1670-1860 by Gene Waddell—and, of course, the books by that comprehensive historian of the buildings of the Old South: Mills Lane. All are magisterial studies, but they focus on the architecture of earlier eras. It is only in recent years that the richness and range of Modern architecture in North Carolina has received the attention which it deserves.

Pioneering the appreciation of Modern architecture in the state was the organization founded in 2007 by George Smart. Originally named Triangle Modernist Houses, it was renamed North Carolina Modernist (also known as NCMODERNIST) in 2013. It has grown to be active on many fronts, including: tours, preservation, archiving, education, providing technical and legal assistance, and encouraging scholarship—in all ways moving to open people’s eyes to the excellence and depth of Modern architecture in North Carolina. In 2016 they created USModernist, an award-winning educational organization for the documentation, preservation, and promotion of residential Modernist architecture. With their archive, podcasts, tours, and an unparalleled on-line magazine library (making available nearly 3,000,000 pages of architecture journals,) USModernist is America's largest open digital archive of Modernist houses and their architects—an accessible and treasured resource for all researchers.

Up to now, there’s been no book-length study which focuses, in-depth, on the beginnings and flourishing of Modern architecture in state. Such a book, Triangle Modern Architecture, has recently been published—and we report on (and welcome) it here. But first: a little background on what’s meant by “Triangle.”

THE NORTH CAROLNA “TRIANGLE”

You’ll hear references to the Triangle—indeed, the word was part of the original name of NCMODERNIST. The Tringle term has two primary uses:

• A region within the state of North Carolina: approximately defined by a triangle with three cities at its points: Durham, Chapel Hill, and Raleigh.

• Research Triangle Park: the celebrated research development—founded in 1959, and still flourishing today—which is the site of many of the country’s most dynamically innovative companies and research centers. It is located within the above, geographically larger triangle.

There’s a strong relationship between these two senses of the term, as the "Triangle" name was cemented in the public consciousness in the 1950’s with the creation of Research Triangle Park, home to numerous tech companies and enterprises. Although the name is now used to refer to the geographic region, the “Triangle" originally referred to the universities—whose research facilities, and the educated workforce they provide, has historically served as a major attraction for businesses to locate in the region.

The North Carolina “Triangle”—a triangular region roughly defined by Durham, Chapel Hill, and Raleigh.

LEFT: Alex Sayf Cummings fascinating history of Research Triangle Park: the US’s largest research development—located within North Carolina’s “Triangle” region. Read our article about the book here. ABOVE: Paul Rudolph’s Burroughs Wellcome building (shown circled), within North Carolina’s Research Triangle Park. Only a portion of Research Triangle Park is shown here, but even this partial view captures some of Burroughs Wellcome’s distinguished neighbors: IBM, Cree, Toshiba, RTI, the North Carolina Biotechnology Center, United Therapeutics, and the National Humanities Center.

THE “TRIANGLE” AS A HOME FOR MODERNISM

All the above is prologue to celebrating the publication of a new book, TRIANGLE MODERN ARCHITCTURE by Victoria Ballard Bell. A licensed architect and writer who has lived in North Carolina for decades, she is the author (with Patrick Rand) of two other architecture books: Materials for Design and Materials for Design 2.

Bell recounts:

“When we first moved here. . . .I heard snippets about architects and Kamphoefner. I wondered: ‘Why has someone not written a book?’ Nobody’s told the story.”

And tells it she has! Bell is referring to Henry Kamphoefner, and architect who—primarily in role of a long-time, dynamic educator—was key to the seeding and growth of Modern architecture in the Triangle region of North Carolina. He, and architects he brought to the School (now College) of Design at North Carolina State University, and other architects who came to settle and/or work in the region, created a body of buildings which are diverse and elegant, caring in their detailing and contextual in their character.

Architects of international stature (Frank Lloyd Wright, Matthew Nowicki, Buckminster Fuller, Paul Rudolph) are, in varying degrees, part of the story. But where the book excels is how it reveals, though depthful research and careful telling, the overall story of the migration into the culture of what must have originally seemed like radically modern design (when contrasted with the existing design traditions of the region.)

Bell shows how lesser-known designers brought forth a wealth of work that can now be proudly considered part of the the state’s (and country’s) cultural heritage.

Several of the excellent works of that are included in TRIANGLE MODERN ARCHITECTURE:

TOP-TO-BOTTOM: Architect Eduardo Catalano’s own residence, in Raleigh, as featured on the cover of the August, 1955 issue of House + Home magazine; Architect George Matsumoto’s own house, in Raleigh, was on the cover of 1957’s Record Houses (the annual issue in which Architectural Record published what they considered to be each year’s most significant residential designs); Architect G. Milton Small’s own architectural office building in Raleigh, which was included in a Architectural Record’s 1969 article on the design of architect’s offices; Paul Rudolph’s perspective rendering of Burroughs Wellcome, situated within Research Triangle Park.

These architects, who practiced in the Triangle region, should be better-known and studied, but they have not had the attention they deserve. A few, like Catalano and Harris, did achieve recognition in during their career, but have fallen out of the “repertoire” of recent architectural historians’ thinking. Others never had more than a very local renown. All deserve to be commemorated, and Triangle Modern Architecture brings salutary attention to the work of this group, among them—

• G. Milton Small

• George Masumoto

• Eduardo Catalano

• Harwell Hamilton Harris

• Arthur Cogswell Jr.

• Jon Andre Condoret

—and several others.

The latter half of the book profiles contemporary firms who are carrying on in this tradition. There is certainly some diversity among them—via their affinity for varying palettes of materials, uses of color, and their choices about the proportion of glazed to solid areas, as well as the different building types (residential/institutional/commercial) with which they’re each engaged. But they all are clearly working within the formal vocabulary established by the first generation of Modern architects who worked in North Carolina’s Triangle region. Among the architects in this section is Frank Harmon, who wrote the book’s preface—and that’s book-ended by George Smart, who writes this volume’s moving epilogue.

TRIANGLE MODERN ARCHITECTURE has a profusion of illustrations, both in black & white and color. Unlike many architecture books, this one is not afraid of including drawings, ranging from Rudolph’s perspective drawing of Burroughs Wellcome -to- a colorful pastel by Nowicki -to- Macon Strother Smith’s study-sketch for a building corner detail. Photos are abundant, including lively snapshots of Frank Lloyd Wright visiting the area, architectural models, and mid-century Modern interiors.

Marlon Blackwell, FAIA, recipient of the 2020 AIA Gold Medal, has said of the book:

“Triangle Modern Architecture provides us a timely insight into the rich history and bold future of modern architecture in North Carolina, reminding us that the modernist project here is alive and well and most vital in its interpretations and adaptations to local places and typologies.”

We congratulate Victoria Ballard Bell, and her publisher, for bringing out TRIANGLE MODERN ARCHITECTURE, her new (and much needed) book on the origin and growth of Modern architecture in that region.

BURROUGHS WELLCOME —THE TRIANGLE’S MOST IMPORTANT MODERN BUILDING— IS THREATENED

Above and Below: the Burroughs Wellcome building, designed by Paul Rudolph, and located within North Carolina’s Triangle Research Park

YOU CAN HELP SAVE IT!

The Burroughs Wellcome building is threated with imminent demolition.

Its loss would be a disaster—a titanic waste of our nation’s cultural heritage. Remember:

When a great building is destroyed, there are no second chances.

NOW— THERE ARE TWO THINGS YOU CAN DO:

• Sign the petition to save Burroughs Wellcome— Please sign it HERE.

• We can keep you up-to-date with bulletins about the latest developments—

  To get them, please join our foundation’s mailing list: you’ll get all the updates, (as well as other Rudolphian news)—you can sign-up at the bottom of this page.

---

IMAGE CREDITS

North Carolina Triangle map: U.S. Geological Survey; Aerial view of a part of Research Triangle Park: courtesy of Google Maps; House + Home (Catalano House), Record Houses (Matsumoto House), and Architectural Record (Small office building): courtesy of US Modernist Library; Burroughs Wellcome perspective rendering by Paul Rudolph: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Photograph of Burroughs Wellcome building (black and white): photograph courtesy of Columbia University, Avery Architectural and Fine Arts Library, Joseph W. Molitor Photograph Collection ; Photograph of Burroughs Wellcome building (color): photograph courtesy of © PJ McDonnell, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation Archives

Meeting Alert: the Future of Rudolph's BOSTON GOVERNMENT SERVICE CENTER - November 19th

Paul Rudolph’s overall design drawing for the Boston Government Service Center. A significant portion of the complex—the Hurley Building at left—is still under threat of full or partial demolition—but we’ve heard that the state agency that’s seeking to develop the site may be open to including preservation as a central tenet of the project. You can help reinforce that direction at the upcoming Public Meeting on November 19th.

One of the earlier reports, commissioned by DCAMM (the state agency planning to move ahead with development of the site—including possibly demolishing all or part of the Hurley Building.). We examined the various options they were considering, presented in that report, in an article here.

On of the strategies of those who want to demolish all or part of the Boston Government Service Center’s Hurley Building is to spread the idea that Rudolph was not the prime designer of the complex (including Hurley)—a myth we’ve addressed here.

Shown above is a model of the complex, with the Hurley Building closest to the front-left of the picture (the model also includes the unbuilt office tower.) In the background can be seen architectural drawings of the complex: an elevation and numerous floor plans. Around the model are key players in the creation of the Boston Government Service Center: (left-to-right) Nathaniel Becker, Dick Thissen, Charles Gibbons, Joseph P. Richardson, Edward Logue, Jeremiah Sundell, Unidentified (George Berlow or William Pedersen?)—and Paul Rudolph at far right.

THE SITUATION:

The BOSTON GOVERNMENT SERVICE CENTER—one of Paul Rudolph’s largest and most multifaceted public buidings—remains threatened.

The state has proposed developing the site—and a key part of their plan is handing-off an integral part of the complex—the HURLEY BUILDING—to a developer. There have been various reports and meetings to present the state’s plans—and they’ve received a lot of push-back.

We’ve published several articles on the building, including ones examining and questioning this development project (like this one, which looked at the alternatives the state’s been considering.) Several critical letters, statements, and reports—protesting the assumption that demolition is the only path to a positive future for this complex—have been issued, including from the Boston Preservation Alliance and Docomomo-New England.

Even so, the state’s “messaging” about the project (while offering some useful information and ideas) also persists in trying to divorce Paul Rudolph from design responsibility for the building—thus attempting to undermine the Hurley Building’s architectural significance (and we’ve addressed that myth here.)

A POSITIVE DEVELOPMENT?

Now the project will be opened to additional public feedback at a November public meeting.

That’s important because: the state agency that’s planning on developing the site (DCAMM: the Division of Capital Asset Management and Maintenance) seems to have become receptive to including preservation as a central tenet of the project. Their recent statements about the Hurley development indicate they are going in this positive direction—and it would be good to reinforce this in the upcoming public meeting. So you’re invited to attend and speak out about preserving the integrity of this Rudolph design.

MEETING ALERT:

Soon— Thursday, November 19th, at 6:30PM —there will be a VIRTUAL [Zoom] PUBLIC MEETING about the project.

DCAMM says that:

• Attendees will learn about the state’s goals for the redevelopment, and how they’ll work to ensure getting a “redevelopment partner” that will help to achieve those goals

• Staff will present draft Design Guidelines for the redevelopment

• Staff will ask for your feedback

You are invited to attend (and attendance is Free)

TAKE ACTION:

• Attend the Public ZOOM meeting on Thursday, November 19th, 6:30 PM—and speak out: Important information will be shared and your presence will show support for the preservation of this important work of public architecture. Full meeting info is below—but you must RSVP (see link below.)

• Sign the petition: “Save the Boston Government Service Center” — sign it HERE - and share it with your friends and all who appreciate great architecture.

A corner view of the Hurley Building (with a portion of the body of the building in the background at right)—an integral part of of the Boston Government Service Center designed by Paul Rudolph. Public input is invited at November 19th’s ZOOM meeting—and you’re urged to attend and comment (see registration info below).

HOW TO ATTEND THE MEETING:

NAME OF EVENT: Charles F. Hurley Building Redevelopment

DATE & TIME: Thursday, November 19, 2020 — 6:30 PM

FORMAT: Virtual (“ZOOM”) Public Meeting

TO ATTEND: the meeting is Free and Open-To-The-Public—but you must RSVP (see below)

RSVP HERE: https://us02web.zoom.us/meeting/register/tZckduCqpj4oE9cIeuXZcbcV34qntuuqoSyV

SPONSORED BY: Massachusetts’ Division of Capital Asset Management and Maintenance (DCAMM)

ZOOM REGISTRATION ASSISTANCE: If you need assistance accessing the ZOOM registration link, please email apoggenburg@reginavilla.com -or- call (617) 357-5772 x 26 by no later than Friday, November 13th

DCAMM WEBSITE [Note: this is the government’s current info page on the project]: https://www.mass.gov/service-details/charles-f-hurley-building-redevelopment

QUESTIONS OR COMMENTS TO DCAMM ABOUT THIS PROJECT: e-mail them to: HurleyReDev.dcamm@mass.gov.

The artist’s impression of the Great Seal of the United States—a section of one of Constantino Nivola’s impressive and inspiring murals within the Boston Government Service Center’s Hurley Building. These murals cannot be moved—adding to the urgency that the Hurley building be preserved.

PHOTO CREDITS:

Paul Rudolph Drawing of Overall Design of the Boston Government Service Center: © The estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Key players in the creation of the Boston Government Service Center: news photo, source unknown; Corner View of the Hurley Building: Image courtesy of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, photograph by G. E. Kidder Smith; Nivola Mural Eagle: Photo by Kelvin Dickinson © The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

The Clear & Passionate Voice for Great Architecture— Especially Burroughs Wellcome

Kate Wagner’s essay—defending Paul Rudolph’s Burroughs Wellcome Building, and taking on the shallowness with which great architecture is often devalued—opens with a dramatic view of the Burroughs Wellcome Building by the distinguished architectural photographer Joseph Molitor. Image courtesy of Joseph W. Molitor architectural photographs collection. Located in Columbia University, Avery Architectural & Fine Arts Library, Department of Drawings & Archives

A VOICE FOR SANITY IN ARCHITECTURE—LIKE NONE OTHER TODAY

Who is the most incisive, clear-eyed, and forthright critic on today’s architectural scene?

As an irrepressible voice for architectural sanity, KATE WAGNER has few rivals. Thus we were struck (and delighted) by her recent, brilliant defense of Paul Rudolph’s Burroughs Wellcome Building—one of the architect’s most exciting and masterful designs, which is now threatened with demolition—in her essay, “This Brutal World”

A sample image from the McMansion Hell website, in which a photo of a McMansion is analyzed by Wagner.

For those not familiar with Kate Wagner’s work, it’s always good to recount that she first came to prominence with her take-no-prisoners website, McMansion Hell—a space where her talent for giving undiluted assessments of the pretentions, impracticalities, and wasteful tastelessness of “McMansions” (and the culture that produced them) had ample space to be displayed.

If you’re not already an admirer of her analyses, this sampling will give you and idea of Wagner’s direct-as-nails rhetoric (as applied to one of the houses she was critiquing on that website):

“If you combine all of the insipid elements of the other houses: mismatched windows; massive, chaotic rooflines; weird asphalt donut landscaping; pompous entrances, and tacked on masses; you’d get this house. The more one looks at this house the more upsetting it becomes . . . . What sends this one over the top is its surroundings: lush trees and clear skies that have been desecrated in order to build absolute garbage.”

But her writings and wise advocacy have not just been about spotlighting overcooked (and undertalented) design. She has focused upon other vital issues such as land use, urbanism, residential space planning, and the history of architectural styles. Wagner has been a featured writer in Architectural Digest, The Atlantic, Huffington Post, Curbed, and other venues—and now can be read in The New Republic.

The essay appeared in the September 29, 2020 on-line edition of The Architect’s Newspaper-East.

DEFENDING PAUL RUDOLPH’S WORK—AND THE TREASURES OF GREAT ARCHITECTURE

Her essay, “This Brutal World” went well beyond considering the fate of that great building, Burroughs Wellcome—for she also offered a powerful attack on the cultural/economic world-view which places so little value on our country’s national treasures of architecture.

She starts by sharing her first powerful encounter, as a youngster, with a Paul Rudolph building: the amazing (and now disfigured) Orange County Government Center, in Goshen, NY—and how that impacted her entire life.

The Orange County Government Center, in Goshen, NY—as designed by Rudolph (and before its present disfigurement). Image courtesy of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, photograph by G. E. Kidder Smith

“Many years ago, long before I became an architecture critic, I was a 14-year-old stuck in the back of a Buick crossover whose driver, my mother, had taken a wrong turn while looking for the Goshen, New York, Dunkin Donuts. We ended up in the parking lot of the most extraordinary building I had ever seen—Paul Rudolph’s Orange County Government Center, more commonly known as the Goshen Building.”

“. . . .Despite the outward signs of disrepair, the breath seized in my chest and as my eyes drifted over the compression and expansion of the building’s extruded masses, I realized that I had stumbled upon something extraordinary. I asked my mother, who grew up in Goshen and was visiting relatives there, if she knew what the building was. She rolled her eyes and said, ‘Ugh, that’s the DMV.’”

“When we returned home to North Carolina from our family reunion, I took to the computer and searched for the Goshen, New York Department of Motor Vehicles. Some clicking got me through to the Wikipedia page for Paul Rudolph, a mid-century architect who was once the Dean of the Yale School of Architecture. It was at that point I fell in love and became obsessed—not only with Rudolph’s work, but with architecture as a whole.”

“My life is marked by a threshold of before and after Paul Rudolph.”

At right are some of the buildings which Kate Wagner mentions in her article: architecture by Paul Rudolph that has been demolished, damaged, or—like Burroughs Wellcome and the Boston Government Service Center—are currently under threat. From top-to-bottom: Shoreline Apartments, Micheels Residence, Christian Science Center, Boston Government Service Center, Burroughs Wellcome.

And Kate Wagner tells of the actions that she began taking:

Photographic credits for the above five images, from top-to-bottom: Image courtesy of Joseph W. Molitor architectural photographs collection. Located in Columbia University, Avery Architectural & Fine Arts Library, Department of Drawings & Archives; © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Image courtesy of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, photograph by G. E. Kidder Smith; Archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Image courtesy of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, photograph by G. E. Kidder Smith

“In 2010, I had stumbled on a news article about the pending demolition of the Goshen Building. I was devastated.”

“I got into many arguments with my mother, who at the time shared the majority opinion of Goshenites and thought the building an unlovable eyesore. I decided to do everything that I, a high-school sophomore hundreds of miles away, could to save it. I wrote letters to Goshen politicians, my first-ever writings on architecture; I donated my babysitting money to Docomomo. . . .I was a freshman in college. I was beginning graduate school when Orange County finished lobotomizing Rudolph’s building with a horrific contemporary addition. Reflecting on the loss years later, I can’t help but be upset.”

Her article goes into Rudolph’s career, but then notes the threats to the survival of other parts of his oeuvre—the latest of which, in jeopardy, is Burroughs Wellcome.

“Rudolph designed numerous houses around the country and a great many important projects including the Yale Art & Architecture Building, the Boston Government Service Center, and numerous buildings for the University of Massachusetts at Dartmouth. However, Rudolph lived long enough to see the tide turn against modern architecture, and his reputation tarnished as a result. The wrecking ball soon tore through Rudolph’s portfolio. Riverview, Buffalo’s Shoreline Apartments, houses in Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Florida, and the Christian Science Organization Building rank among the fallen, while the Boston Government Service Center is under grave threat. The latest victim in this saga of devastation is his Burroughs Wellcome Co. Headquarters and Research Building in Durham, North Carolina.”

There is a great deal more in Kate Wagner’s fine essay (and we urge you to read it—in full—here.) But it might be good to close by sharing excerpts from some of the points she makes about the larger issues to which she brings her powerful focus:

“I. . . .think that I am a fool for believing that the tide of public opinion has changed enough to have prevented a major work of architecture from being carelessly demolished. I am an even bigger fool for believing that public opinion is what stops the destruction of works of art—that the core problem is awareness rather than money. . . .It doesn’t matter if Burroughs Wellcome is priceless, unique, a work of spatial, formal brilliance. To its owners it is a burden, a resource sink, a negative sign on a spreadsheet. . . .It is an asset of business, an object whose use-value will always be subornidated to its exchange value. . . .”

“I write this as a means of processing the impending loss of a building I care deeply about as a historian and as an individual, but also because I believe that the preservation community is facing a hard truth: Their battle is not against one bulldozer-happy company or developer but against an economic system that reduces architecture to an asset that sits upon an even more valuable asset—land. The court of public opinion has no say over the rule of the wallet, and even the success of a decade-long campaign to recuperate Brutalism from the trash heap of history cannot alone save Burroughs Wellcome from the wrecking ball. Time repeats itself—I once sat in a chair in my room on a laptop typing up letters and school assignments devoted to saving the Goshen Building; ten years later, I sit in my office and type this essay about mourning another building by the same architect. Both times, despite it all, grief is mixed with hope.”

Note: We hope that the demolition of the Burroughs Wellcome Building is not inevitably “impending”—and the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation is fighting to save it. Please see below about how you can help.

The threat to Burroughs Wellcome is part of a pervasive problem, as is illustrated here: the same web-page in The Architect’s Newspaper (on which Kate Wagner’s article appeared) also showed links to other articles—each of which is about the demolition of good and/or interesting modern buildings.

YOU CAN HELP SAVE BURROUGHS WELLCOME !

The Burroughs Wellcome building is threated with imminent demolition.

It’s loss would be a disaster—a titanic waste of our nation’s cultural heritage. Remember:

When a great building is destroyed, there are no second chances.

NOW— THERE ARE TWO THINGS YOU CAN DO:

• Sign the petition to save Burroughs Wellcome— Please sign it here.

• We can keep you up-to-date with bulletins about the latest developments. To get them, please join our foundation’s mailing list: you’ll get all the updates, (as well as other Rudolphian news.)—you can sign-up at the bottom of this page

Burroughs Wellcome’s famous, soaring entry lobby, which Kate Wagner had heard the present owners were going to use as part of a visitor’s center. That was before their current intentions, for demolition of the building, became known. Image courtesy of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, photograph by G. E. Kidder Smith

Burroughs Wellcome: Let the CRITICS & USERS speak!

Entry court of the Burroughs Wellcome building. Image courtesy of Joseph W. Molitor architectural photographs. Located in Columbia University, Avery Architectural & Fine Arts Library, Department of Drawings & Archives

NOW IT’S THE CRITICS’ & USERS’ TURN TO SPEAK…

In a recent post, we shared the various views, assessments, and judgements, made by several architectural historians, of the Burroughs Wellcome building. Historians have several roles, and one of the main thrusts of their work is to take “the long view”—striving to show how any one building can be understood within broader context of the architect’s overall career (and the architectural culture of the time). But there are other viewpoints which call for our attention:

• Critics have a different role. Yes, architectural journalists/critics/bloggers also seek to share deeper understandings of a work of architecture. But their writings are usually more of-the-moment—a result of their immediate interaction with building (and of news about it.)

• Users are the ultimate critics. The actual occupants of the building (those who lived or worked there, day-after-day—but also including visitors) have an intimacy with the architecture which cannot be exceeded. Their voices must be heard.

Here, we present the examples of architectural criticism/journalism from the era when the Burroughs Wellcome’s design was first presented (and the building finished), as well as more recent thoughts by members of the architectural-critical community. The last example, below, includes copious comments from people who worked for Burroughs Wellcome—those who had an ongoing experience of the building, and warm memories of being there.

PAUL RUDOLPH: WORK IN PROGRESS

Architectural Record, November, 1970

This article, by Architectural Record’s distinguished editor-writer Mildred Schmertz, showcased three new projects by Rudolph: a large central library, to be built in Niagara Falls (and the article leads off with his tour de force isometric drawing of the building, shown at right); a housing development which was partially built in Buffalo (“Shoreline”); and the Burroughs Wellcome building. The article begins with an articulate assessment of Rudolph’s design concerns & commitments—and then it provides text about each project. Below are excerpts from both sections.

It has been said before that Rudolph's superb drawings so enchant the eye that one is diverted from the designs themselves into contemplation of the wonders of his draftsmanship. To counteract this tendency, it may be useful to set forth those attributes of his work which form its essential design content and which Rudolph himself considers most characteristic.

For him the site is a key consideration. His design is a response to the site and its environment. Where a strong environmental ambiance exists, he reinforces it. Where it does not, he creates it.

His concern with the environmental aspects of design leads him to freshly restate the design problem each time, and causes him to utilize a great variety of forms, scales and materials. His buildings are designed to be read from varying distances and from the air. Buildings are often dramatically articulated from story to story. Clearly expressed and essentially simple structural systems are juxtaposed to specific elements such as stairs, elevators and mechanical and toilet shafts which have been elaborated as forms. ln general, fixed elements are juxtaposed to more flexible generalized uses. The fixed elements often play a dual role acting as "hinges" and "joints" as his buildings sinuously move to follow a street pattern, turn a corner or form a plaza. Frequently these elements are used to lead the eye around the building. Such elements are essential means by which Rudolph manipulates scale. They take many shapes, thus a small conference room might be circular, elliptical, square, a rectangle or a triangle. Often the choice of shape becomes a highly personal one and leads to qualities which Rudolph realizes are easily misinterpreted as arbitrary.

Rudolph designs buildings which simultaneously defer to the past, yet accommodate the future. He creates definable exterior spaces which relate to existing buildings which are to remain, but he indicates the future by open-ended concepts, infinitely expansible in every direction. His buildings always embody broader design concerns than those represented by the building itself. They are conceived as interventions in behalf of tomorrow—the walls, gates, landmark towers and bridges of a higher urban order to come. Rudolph's interiors are characterized by the flow of space-horizontally, vertically and diagonally. Again his primary principle is one of juxtaposition—agitated space is opposed to quiet, contented space, tight coves of space flow into multistoried central space, diagonal space passes through vertical space. The control of natural light within the interior is a major concern of Rudolph's. ln most cases it is indirect, admitted by almost invisible skylights and reflected from broad sloping planes.

A final characteristic by which Rudolph's work may be readily recognized is his use of space modules as integral elements forming the building complex. . . . Those projects by Rudolph in which space modules are clearly articulated, although not totally prefabricated, can be considered prototypes being developed to hasten the arrival of this technological advance.

Burroughs Wellcome

This building may be considered a summation of the characteristics by which Rudolph's architecture may be identified. The site has been a key consideration and the building is essentially topographical, single stories are clearly articulated to define scale, specific elements are elaborated within a clear and regular structural system, the plan is infinitely expansible in each of its three major blocks, and great attention has been paid to the flow of interior space as well as to the handling of reflected light. The building, although it doesn't actually consist of totally prefabricated space modules inserted within a structural frame, almost looks as though it does, and thus it prefigures and helps lay the groundwork for future technological development.

SCULPTURAL FORMS FOR PHARMECEUTICAL RESEARCH

Architectural Record, June, 1972

This cover story was the major presentation of the finished building in US architectural journals. Below are excerpts from the unsigned article: these were chosen because they focused on the critic’s/journalist’s assessment of the design.

Springing in inclined forms from the summit of a long ridge in North Carolina's Research Triangle Park, the laboratory and corporate headquarters of the Burroughs Wellcome Co. is marked by the sculptural invention that has long made Paul Rudolph's work so arresting. It is also filled with the characteristic complexities that make his work, in some quarters, controversial.

The client wanted a building that was shaped to his needs but remained architecturally distinctive-a building that would leave a forceful after-image in the minds of all who see it. Rudolph wanted the building to be a man-made extension of the ridge. He also wanted an opportunity to explore the variety of spatial relationships that diagonal framing could produce.

With only minor reservations, both owner and architect are well pleased with the final product.

Flexibility was a primary programmatic goal. Each major area in Rudolph's plan-laboratories, administration and support services-can be expanded by simple, linear addition. To prepare for this eventuality, the architect left the expansible ends of the building expressed in a somewhat random pattern of flattened hexagons. Any of the elements can be extended horizontally without disturbing the building's visual order. This device, combined with an elaborate articulation of parts, complicates the elevations considerably but gives the building an agreeable scale and plunges it squarely into the realm of dynamic architectural sculpture. The complications of the exterior assert themselves inside with no less force. The three-story lobby space closes dramatically overhead in a turbulent and visually compelling spatial composition. The administrative offices are shaped at the exterior wall to receive skylights that admit daylight from an unseen and unexpected source. The board room, over the cafeteria, opens out through a canted window wall to one of the fairest scenes in North Carolina: a timbered Piedmont plain with the spires of Chapel Hill in the distance.

The spaces are particularized and personal; as much the opposite of universal space as Rudolph could make them. A simple and consistent vocabulary of finishes gives the administrative areas an easy continuity and flow.

The Burroughs Wellcome building is not for those who are disturbed by departures from the norm. The sharp-eyed visitor may find details that are not completely resolved. But if there is bravura here, it is more than balanced by solid accomplishment. The building is functional—probably no more and no less so than similar facilities of more routine design. What is best about Burroughs Wellcome is the sense of exhilaration and spatial excitement it awakens. That it achieves so much of each is a tribute to both architect and owner.

PAUL RUDOLPH’S BURROUGHS WELLCOME HEADQUARTERS BUILDING IN NORTH CAROLINA THREATENED WITH DEMOLITION

Architect’s Newspaper, September 11, 2020

Matt Hickman, associate editor of The Architect’s Newspaper, wrote one of the first major articles about the current threat to the Burroughs Wellcome building. In it, he quotes from Liz Waytkus of Docomomo US.

“Burroughs Wellcome is a significant design of architecture that rises to the level of exceptional. There is absolutely nothing else like it and it would be devastating to Paul Rudolph’s canon of built works to lose it,” said Liz Waytkus, executive director of Docomomo US, when reached for comment. “While Rudolph’s homes continue to be highly valued, many of his civic and commercial designs have been severely compromised, threatened and destroyed. Docomomo US has advocated for years if not decades for the preservation of many of his major projects and we are frustrated as to what it will take for this country to recognize this true American Master of modernism.”

INTO THE SPACESHIP: A VISIT TO THE OLD BURROUGHS WELLCOME BUILDING

Tropics of Meta, June 13, 2016

Alex Sayf Cummings is an associate professor and director of graduate studies in the History Department at Georgia State University. Dr. Cummings, who is senior editor of the history blog, Tropics of Meta, recently published a study of Research Triangle Park (in which the Burroughs Wellcome building resides): Brain Magnet: Research Triangle Park and the Idea of the Idea Economy. In June, 2016, she was part of a tour of the Burroughs Wellcome building—which is currently unoccupied—and below are excerpts from her post, reporting on the visit. Her post elicited numerous responses: many from people who, having worked Burroughs Wellcome, knew the building well and had warm memories of being there—and we also include a selection of those comments.

No longer supplied with power, the building becomes a dark warren of workspaces and hallways, occasionally illumined by natural light from outside. Undoubtedly [the building] felt different when it was electrified and occupied, with the presence of people and the trappings of business, work, and research. . . . tour participant Cynthia de Miranda—an architectural historian whose father was a scientist at Burroughs Wellcome—averred that the building always struck her as warm and pleasant during her visits as a child.

As scholars and lovers of architecture, we look forward to the day when the building’s remainder is restored to its former greatness, an emblem of the wild aesthetic ambitions of modernism in its late heyday and the information economy at the moment of its emergence. Love it or hate it, Rudolph’s design remains an impressively audacious creative gesture and an important part of the history of both architecture and Research Triangle Park.

COMMENTS:

Simply amazing, I worked in this building for many years, very fond memories of it.

I never found it claustrophobic during my 25 years. The building was alive with interesting people.

I will never forget the first time I drove up and saw this “out of this world spaceship!” I spent many good years there, and was fortunate to be employed in such an incredible building, with incredible people. I still feel honored to have been part of the Burroughs Wellcome family.

. . . .all of us who recall the vibrancy of this building . . . .I count myself very fortunate to have worked there. It was an amazing structure. We were young, and life was full of hope and promise. We were all witnesses, if not direct contributors, to amazing scientific discoveries and their promotion, during an exciting time for medical research.

I spent 32 years with [Burroughs Wellcome]. . . .and helped work on the layout of the labs to fit the 22.5 degree sloping walls of bright orange and blue. At that time, if any space was conceived to bring out the creative, inspirational, thoughts—this was it, in my opinion. I loved working there. We invented and developed more pharmaceutical products in those years. . . .We were “family” but more to the point we were colleagues who were allowed to trust the expertise of each other.

I have such special memories of my time at Burroughs-Wellcome. . . .Every Christmas there was a huge Christmas Tree in the lobby that almost reached the ceiling and the bottom was covered with several rows of the most beautiful poinsettia plants. With only about 400-500 employees in the entire building, it felt like a large family. The colors in the building were bold and bright, mostly dark blue and orange. As you entered the research area the carpet was orange and the administration side of the building had blue carpet. On the top floor of the administration wing the custom seats that ran around the walls were covered in a dark tan suede leather. The conference table in the boardroom was huge. The bottom was thick plexiglass and the top was covered in tan leather strips that were woven together. . . . it was a fabulous experience to work at Burroughs-Wellcome and one that I will never forget. The people I worked with changed my life and I have nothing but fond memories.

This is fascinating! When I was 9, my parents took me to the opening of the building, and for many years I wanted to be an architect because of it.

According to the Historic American Building Survey’s report the building (from which this image comes): “Archival records reveal that a softball field was positioned behind the Burroughs Wellcome building for leisure activities.”

YOU CAN HELP SAVE BURROUGHS WELLCOME !

Burroughs Wellcome’s loss would be a disaster—a titanic waste of our nation’s cultural heritage.

When a great building is destroyed, there are no second chances.

NOW, THERE ARE TWO THINGS YOU CAN DO:

• Sign the petition to save Burroughs Wellcome. You can sign it here.

• We’ll send you bulletins about the latest developments. To get them, please join our foundation’s mailing list: you’ll get all the updates, (as well as other Rudolphian news.)—you can sign up at the bottom of this page.

The Burroughs Wellcome building presents multiple impressive facets. Image courtesy of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, photograph by G. E. Kidder Smith

Burroughs Wellcome: Let the Historians Speak!

Photograph courtesy of © PJ McDonnell, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation Archives

GREAT BUILDINGS: FROM BIOGRAPHY -TO- HISTORY

In our first earlier posts about the Burroughs Wellcome Building, we’ve looked at it from multiple viewpoints: its most significant features, its overall history, its use in Film and Television, and as an example of the creative process in architecture (from concept-to-details).

Buildings have biographies—just like people—and those articles could be said to be primarily “biographical”. But, just like any a person’s life story, a building is also subject to assessment—the judgement of discerning historians, as well as it’s occupants, visitors, critics, and journalists. This process starts from the time the design is unveiled, and continues through the years of its existence and memory.

Here, we’ll let several architectural historians speak: offering their insights into the building’s design, physical presence, spatial-sensual qualities, and its relation to the users’ needs and experiences.

THE ART AND ARCHITECTURE OF PAUL RUDOLPH

By Tony Monk

“Stretching expansively across a wooded hillside ridge in North Carolina, this large corporate headquarters and laboratory complex for the intranational Burroughs Wellcome company typified Paul Rudolph’s dramatically sculptural style. In response the the client’s need for a distinctive image to represent the company’s performance, Rudolph designed a building which was intended to be a forceful extension of the hillside itself. Inside he created a spatial and structural solution that was uniquely original and possessed ultra-modern space-age characteristics.”

“The most dramatic feature of this design was the all-pervading characteristics that were created by the sharply angular slopes to the walls and columns. Surprisingly these were built at 22-1/2 degrees to the vertical, a device which Rudolph said echoed step inclines of the hills around the site. These interesting geometric forms were repeated extensively around the building—in windows angled downward, in the sloping seats and solid balustrades. Even the cupboards and service doors in the corridors . . . . were all built at this very steep angle.”

“A decade after this development was completed (in 1972), Paul Rudolph as asked to extend the premises to incorporate medical offices and a large dining room for the staff. He continued the theme of the angled supports, but this time used V-shaped twin columns, which created a crystalline rhythm throughout the extension. The sizeable restaurant was generally single-storey around the perimeter but then rose up dramatically to five storeys in the middle to provide roof lighting at the center with various mezzanine levels skirting this interesting space.”

“Together, the soaring internal areas, punctuated by the balconied walkways, and multi-level offices, pierced with unexpected floods of light, all contribute to make this one of Paul Rudolph’s best works.”

“The headquarters is both a credit to and a reward for the enlightened client who commissioned and then recommissioned Paul Rudolph to design this amazingly original modern building. . . .” — excerpted from: The Art and Architecture of Paul Rudolph, by Tony Monk, West Sussex, Wiley-Academy, 1999

PAUL RUDOLPH: THE LATE WORK

by Roberto de Alba

The “new wing” of the Burroughs Wellcome building (with V-shaped frames), referred to by historian Roberto de Alba. Image © the estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

“…Rudolph devised an elongated hexagonal module that gives the building a strong horizontal reading on the long elevations. The module reveals its hexagonal geometry in the short elevations., pulling out of the building in interesting ways to express its ability to expand.”

“The interior spaces are a direct by-product of the diagonal structural geometry and are simply stunning. The entry lobby is a thing of the future. The space soars, exposing three levels of balconies, which maintain the diagonal lines of the A-frame. The lab spaces are unusual in their high ceilings and natural illumination (by skylights). It is not surprising that the futuristic interiors of the building were the setting for the movie Brainstorm.”

“The new wing adopts some of the themes of the original building, transforming them in interesting ways. The hexagonal module reappears in the long elevation, reinforcing the linearity of the wing. The A-frame of the original turns into a V that is exposed and repeated in parallel along the length of the wing.” — excerpts from: Paul Rudolph: The Late Work, by Roberto de Alba, New York, Princeton Architectural Press, 2003

The “ziggurat” character of the building, mentioned by Stimpson, is captured in this photograph. Image courtesy of Joseph W. Molitor architectural photographs. Located in Columbia University, Avery Architectural & Fine Arts Library, Department of Drawings & Archives

A FIELD GUDE TO LANDMARKS OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE IN THE UNITED STATES

by Miriam f. Stimpson

“A dynamic and expressive design was created for this administrative headquarters. Rhythm and space are achieved through the use of strong external forms arranged in a contemporary “ziggurat fashion.” Lighting within the interior spaces effectively adds to the building’s design. The interaction of bold forms with the rolling hillside is intriguing as well as harmonious. The building is one of its kind in the nation.” — adapted from: A Field Guide to Landmarks of Modern Architecture in the United States, by Miriam F. Stimpson, Englewood Cliffs, Prentice Hall, 1985

HABS: THE HISTORIC AMERCAN BUILDINGS SURVEY

The Historic American Buildings Survey (HABS), founded in 1933, is part of the Historic Documentation Programs administered under the National Parks Service. HABS is charged with documenting America's architectural heritage. Their report on Burroughs Wellcome (Report No. NC-418), written by architectural historian Vyta Baselice, is currently the most comprehensive survey and assessment of of the complex.

The full report can be accessed here. It is well worth quoting extensively—and it is our pleasure to present a selection of excerpts from it:

“The Burroughs Wellcome Corporation Headquarters in Research Triangle Park, North Carolina was designed by Paul Rudolph starting in 1969 and completed by the Daniels Construction Company in 1972. Planned as an “M.I.T. of North Carolina” this area between Raleigh and Durham was developed starting in the 1950s as a center for high-tech corporate research to attract and keep a highly educated, white-collar population in a Jim Crow state. Research Triangle’s ability to lure the pharmaceuticals giant Burroughs Wellcome, a company with roots in nineteenth century England, away from their suburban New York headquarters solidified the area’s status as a significant economic center no longer merely on the regional, but now also on the national scale. The design and construction of the new Wellcome Headquarters building was a significant affair and was meant to make a statement regarding the company’s new modern image and illustrate the advanced state of laboratory research and pharmaceutical work in the Research Triangle. Paul Rudolph worked with the corporation to design facilities that would accommodate a wide range of functions. . . .”

“The building is notable for its futuristic design, frequently described as Brutalist, marked by an exposed concrete and aggregate exterior and slanted steel columns that intersect in V-shapes and give the structure its distinctive appearance.”

“The structural system employed in the building also showcases the architect’s interest in industrial construction methods and the use of prefabricated panels for exterior and interior partitions. Rudolph likewise experimented with the integration of novel materials and exterior treatments. . . .”

“In terms of interior design, the building offers expansive multi-story gathering spaces with spot lighting exposing the irregular structural system. Bright carpets that blended red, orange, and pink colors were installed in communal areas to add to the drama of the headquarters. Other spaces that received extensive attention include research laboratories with state of the art equipment and custom-fitted cabinetry. . . .”

“. . . . raised in the South, the architect had the ideal background to design a world-class building in North Carolina that was global and radical in its approach yet sensitive to local work and life patterns. In addition to his professional expertise and reputation, Rudolph brought excellent customer service. Burroughs Wellcome leadership noted the architect’s “bedside manner of a sympathetic physician” and his ability to “cushion us against the shock-waves of certain mundane realities that have a habit of looming larger and larger.”

“Despite the challenging construction process, Burroughs Wellcome was nonetheless completed in 1972 and applauded instantly for its bold appearance. The structure’s distinctive architectural character is most clearly visible at the entrance to the building. The façade is a playful arrangement of angular forms that appear to grow out of the core structure. While visually provocative, the façade fails to reveal its organizational logic. It instead suggests that the sculptural complex must serve an intrinsically futuristic and forward-thinking function whose true nature cannot be fully comprehended from the exterior. One therefore must enter the structure and learn about its activities in order to understand the architectural arrangement. In this way, Rudolph’s design contradicts the famous “form follows function” rule, first suggested by Louis Sullivan in the nineteenth century. The exterior’s formal gymnastics are accomplished through a careful arrangement of exposed structural members. Indeed, the bold white columns that sit at a 22.5-degree angle are particularly important in breaking up the building’s forceful horizontality. Other design elements, like the white window beams, repetition of the concrete panels, and even the flag pole, echo the slanted verticality of the structural columns and add to the productive tension of the design.”

“In addition to the structure, Rudolph’s careful selection of construction materials, which were limited primarily to metal, glass, and concrete, add to the building’s distinctive appearance. As discussed above, the metal superstructure, comprised of A-frames that are painted white, breaks up the building’s horizontality. Rudolph did not treat the building’s windows in a conventional manner – instead, they appear as entire surfaces that follow and accentuate the building’s shape. At times, they wrap around the structure, much like Le Corbusier’s ribbon windows at Villa le Lac. The glass is also tinted and the scale and positioning of the windows follows a rhythm established by the concrete panels. Finally, the precast concrete panels with a carefully selected medium-size grey tint gravel contribute most significantly to the design’s distinctive character. And the concrete mix is employed not only on the façade, but all throughout the building’s interior as well as some of the sidewalks that are immediately adjacent to the structure. Most notably the aggregate was also used for the reception desk.”

“Although the building is visually compelling, Rudolph’s interest in curating the visitor’s experience by playing with scale and volume is significant and typically understated, especially in photographic representations. However, this is an important aspect of the overall architectural experience, particularly the entrance, and reflects the influence that Frank Lloyd Wright had upon Rudolph’s work. Upon climbing up a set of concrete stairs up to the level of the structure (or by exiting one of the two executive carports), the visitor will encounter the large structural columns. The first columns and space encountered are distinctly smaller and compressed. As the visitor proceeds to the entrance, both the volumes and columns progressively increase in scale until the first major gathering space opens up to reveal the grand scale of the building. The third-floor balcony, which hovers over this front plaza, adds to the drama and spectacle of the design. Archival photographs reveal that the main plaza was used as an events space with seating arranged facing the glazed wall. The door to the building is notably missing from this grand space and instead is situated to the side out of sight, underneath a sizeable horizontal plane. “

“Upon entering the building, the visitor’s movement and experience are once again carefully curated in a familiar arrangement of volumes that progressively increase in size, finally revealing an impressive lobby whose height extends three levels. While undoubtedly striking, the lobby appears to be taller than it actually is due to Rudolph’s design of openings that employ the 22.5-degree angle and decrease progressively thus heightening the visitor’s sense of verticality. The lobby is an architecturally distinctive space, notably different in character from the exterior forms, that creates a cave-like environment. The laboratory wing of the structure contains a similarly open multi-level communal space.”

“Modernist architects often hoped that unusual architecture that challenged common work and living practices would encourage greater creativity and efficiency. Paul Rudolph and Burroughs Wellcome were not an exception. The design integrated some novel solutions for creating multi-purpose spaces. For example, the large auditorium located off the lobby had a mechanism that would have brought about partitions to bifurcate the large space into two for smaller viewing audiences. While actual creative output is difficult to measure, the company’s attitudes were clearly displayed in photographs of workers and their daily activities. For example, company photographs commonly featured the building as a framing device, which in one case took up more of the portrait than the workers themselves. Similarly, when advertising one of the company’s products, employees were shown interacting with the building in a creative way, climbing atop the different layered roofs and hanging out with their colleagues. Even when engaging in other types of work-unrelated leisurely activities, like participating in company-sponsored health programs or playing softball, workers could not avoid the presence of the distinctive structure. The building’s design therefore served as a tool to maintain company presence throughout the workers’ daily experiences.”

Pages from the HABS report on Burroughs Wellcome, like the one shown above, have intriguing illustrative material, generally not found outside of archives.

This page from the report includes a drawing produced by Rudolph’s office: a sketch showing how offices would be arranged along the building’s angled window walls.

AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE: IDEAS AND IDEOLOGIES IN THE LATE TWENTIETH CENTURY

By Paul Heyer

“The dynamics of diagnonal, tapered space are further explored in the more complex program for the corporate headquarters of Burroughs Wellcome. Here, within the diagonal movement of interior space, Rudolph says that “growth and change is implicit in the concept. It is the idea of a building never finished where one can pull out parts.” Architecturally it is a delineated and tightly resolved attitude that, in spirit at least, somewhat parallels that of [John] Johansen’s more “as built,” loosely conceived and less seemingly-manipulated and open-ended approach. The building’s diagonal volume is an upward extension of the crest of a ridge on which it is built. The set back floors allow for a continuous system of skylights at each floor to pull light deep into interior spaces while enabling ceiling heights to be raised to fifteen feet at the building’s exterior edges, increasing the sense of space in movement with the interiors. As the linear planes of the building are bunched in an end expression of solid, shifting, tubelike elements, they visually evoke the idea of modular elements, although in fact they are the product of conventional steel frame construction. The groping and combining of modular elements as and expression of a technological capability, a sound idea if one not so economically possible in reality, is a notion that continues to preoccupy Rudolph and in many ways give impetus to the shifting planes that impinge upon rather than elementally define space.” — excepted from: American Architecture: Ideas and Ideologies in the Late Twentieth Century, by Paul Heyer, New York, Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1993

NORMAN FOSTER

Finally, since Rudolph’s drawings for the Burroughs Wellcome building are so compelling, here is a quote from Norman Foster. He has the advantage of a long perspective on Paul Rudolph—an historical viewpoint—going all-the-way back to the time when he had been a student and employee of Rudolph’s, while studying at Yale.

“Many of the these drawings, especially the perspective sections, would encapsulate in a single image the range of Rudolph’s concerns as an architect. There was his quest to define and model space with light and planar surfaces; his interest in climate and the relationship between structure and services; his exploration into modularity and the potential of prefabrication—a later interest in high density urban mega-structures.” — Norman Foster, from the foreword to: The Art and Architecture of Paul Rudolph, by Tony Monk, West Sussex, Wiley-Academy, 1999

Rudolph’s perspective-section drawing through the body of the building (with its famous entry lobby), indicating the dynamic spaces within. Image © the estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

YOU CAN HELP SAVE BURROUGHS WELLCOME !

Burroughs Wellcome’s loss would be a disaster—a titanic waste of our nation’s cultural heritage.

When a great building is destroyed, there are no second chances.

NOW, THERE ARE TWO THINGS YOU CAN DO:

• Sign the petition to save Burroughs Wellcome. You can sign it here.

• We’ll send you bulletins about the latest developments. To get them, please join our foundation’s mailing list: you’ll get all the updates, (as well as other Rudolphian news.)—you can sign up at the bottom of this page.

A good example of the powerful drawings, in which Rudolph explored and conveyed his vision—as spoken of in Norman Foster’s quote above. This is his perspective rendering of the dining area (about which historian Tony Monk wrote)—a dynamic space which was constructed as part of the 1976 extension. That addition has been demolished, and now the main part of the building is under threat too. Image © the estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

What's In A Name? When a "Rudolph" Really Isn't One

A home in Chester, NY that the owners claim was designed by Paul Rudolph. Image from a previous listing on Weichert Realtors.

When you represent the estate of an architect who has designed residential properties, you eventually receive word that they are going to be sold. At that point, in steps a real estate agent with the marketing vocabulary and poetic license to find a new owner.

As Christine Bartsch writes in her blog Writing Creative Real Estate Listing Descriptions: 3 Pro Tips (and a Warning!), “The better your listing description is, the better your chances are that buyers will come see your home in person. And the more showings you have, the higher your odds are to get multiple offers.”

It can sometimes be hard to find a new owner for a Rudolph-designed home. They can be of a certain age that they seem too small for today’s buyers (like the Cerritto Residence) or in a location that is no longer remote and in danger of being demolished for a bigger house (like the Walker Guest House) or they can be in a style that can make them hard to love (like the Micheels Residence).

In some cases the owners reach out to the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation and we work with them to find a new owner who will preserve the property. We list these properties on our website with instructions here.

As we state in our mission statement, one of our goals is to help provide connections between sellers of Rudolph properties with preservation-minded buyers and design-sensitive real estate professionals. In order to ensure the properties are preserved, it is important they are owned and maintained.

So its interesting that - while its already challenging to preserve original Rudolph designs - we come across properties that claim they are Rudolph designs when there is no evidence that they are.

Note: The following homes are not included in Rudolph’s project list and we have no evidence (in either drawings, photographs or written communication) that they are Rudolph designs. We are happy to update our archives if the owners contact us and can provide supporting documentation.

Let’s take a look at three of these homes:

904 Virginia Drive in Sarasota, Florida

The original house in 2007

The new house in 2020

According to the property’s listing:

This entertainer's dream home is located in the heart of Sarasota's Cultural District. This home was designed by renowned architects Ralph Twitchell and Paul Rudolph in 1940 with construction being completed in 1941. The home was remodeled and expanded in 2009, and refreshed in 2019. The design is a perfect blend of contemporary and mid-century modern.

As soon as we read the listing (sent from a Rudolph fan) we knew the Rudolph reference was mistaken because he joined Twitchell’s office in the Spring of 1941 - the same year construction was completed.

We reached out to several friends in Florida and learned the original address is indeed a Twitchell design, known as the ‘Second Lu Andrews residence’. Pictures of the home appear in John Howey’s 1997 book The Sarasota School of Architecture, 1941-1966.

We were provided a note by a previous owner in the 1990’s that explains a short history of the home. Below is an excerpt:

“There was a small piece in our paper yesterday in the real estate section about the Lu Andrew home in Tahiti Park. I was moved to give a brief history of her second home built in 1939, which my husband and I owned about six years ago. Both homes were built by her boss Ralph Twitchell.

When Pat and I started looking to buy our first home we were living on Hickory street and had both been living here and there in the IBSS neighborhood for years. It was our hope to find a house in the area, and we spent a year looking.

Walking our dogs we came upon 904 Virginia Drive, a for sale sign had just been erected and we immediately went back home to call our realtor to inquire about this charming modern house. We set up an appointment for the very next day, the price was a bit out of our range, but with the idea of negotiating we remained positive.

Meeting the realtor at 904 we knew right away that the outside of the property was a dream, and once the door opened we knew instantly that we had finally found our home. It was small, 900 square feet, perfect for two. It was important for us that the house we bought wasn't entirely bastardized.

Walking into 904 we were delighted by the original integrity, design and layout. Putting an offer in quickly, and dealing with owners that loved the house and yard, it was a given that it would all work out.

Once we occupied the Twitchell house we started to research it's previous owners and history. In the hopes of meeting it's original owner we went to see if Lu Andrews was home at her Tahiti Park address.

Arriving there, we knew from the looks of the house that it hadn't been lived in for quite some time. One of her neighbors saw us and we all started talking and she told us that Lu's son had put her into a nursing home just a few months ago. She knew a lot about the history and about Lu, and was kind enough to let us know where Lu was now living. We called the nursing home and made an appointment to meet with her.

We learned that Ralph built the home for Lu and her son, that Lu slept in the living room on built-in day beds (no longer there) that her son slept in the back bedroom and the front room was to rent out to someone so that it was affordable for Lu. Times ware tough in Sarasota in the 40's, the building boom declined rapidly and when the war broke out work was hard to get. Being a single parent with a son to raise, Lu moved to Washington DC to work as a secretary. She had lived in 904 for a short time, never to return. she moved back to Sarasota after the war and the Tahiti Park house was built for her by Ralph, but the materials used were more humble as the economy here was still tight. She was a dear lady, and her memory faded back and forth, but we were still able to extract this brief history.

Once our children arrived the house was becoming quite small, so we investigated adding on and hired the architect John Howey. We felt John would be perfect as he had just published a book on the Sarasota School of Architecture. Plans were drawn and during the process my neighbor across the street had decided to sell his home, and it was offered to us. Economically it was a wise decision, building the addition was expensive in comparison. We would be going from 900 s.f. into 2000 s.f. without the headache, but with the loss of our sweet Twitchell home.

Sometimes we make decisions with the hopes the what we decide will stay the same, unfortunately two years ago 904 was forever changed.

The beautiful 100 year old river cypress torn away from the walls - paneled throughout the ceilings and walls - piled high into dumpsters. When living at 904 while reading in bed my eyes could not help but to always delight in the beauty of the cypress grain, every bit worthy, of it's title, River Tide, as the grain looks like the water moving along the shore. As if the cypress tree is so ingrained into the life of the water from which it is born.

Twitchell often left a whimsical signature in the homes he built, stars cut out from the cypress, and the cut out itself, neatly imposed near entryways. As the demolition continued at 904, Pat was able to salvage the star paneling and many paneling boards.

On the back of some of the boards was a stamp from the lumber mill from which the cypress originated. In 1922 Cummer Sons Cypress Company was built on 100 acres in Pasco County, in the town of Lacoochee, Florida. The town of Lacoochee thrived for nearly 40 years, where Cummer Sons Cypress, a giant in the logging and lumber industry, made their last stand near the Withlacoochee river. It closed in 1959, and with its demise the town fell into hard times, as the mill was the main employer, providing jobs and housing mostly for African Americans.

I still dream about 904, mostly that I have forgotten a treasure, tucked away in the beautiful memory of a cypress tree.”

The home was modernized in the 2000’s and then later sold to a new owner who demolished 95% of the house and rebuilt it. As our source in Florida told us, “Twitchell at 904 Virginia Drive is long gone.”

On a side note - a wonderful SketchUp model of Lu Andrews’ 3rd house at Tahiti Park referenced in the note above can be found here.

1212 East Sierra Way in Palm Springs, California

A photograph of 1212 East Sierra Way from the property’s listing on Zillow.

The AirBNB listing for the 4,100 s.f. property states:

This iconic mid-century multi-level home in the prestigious Indian Canyons neighborhood was designed by renowned architect Paul Rudolph. Casa Colibri is a sprawling property with expansive rooms and an abundance of floor-to-ceiling windows that shed light on the spectacular, mid-century interior.

In this case, we were alerted by Docomomo - a non-profit organization dedicated to the documentation and conservation of buildings, sites and neighborhoods of the modern movement - asking for confirmation. The listing says the exact location will be provided after booking. A little digging and we discovered a similar listing for ‘Casa Colibri’ on Vrbo which also states, “this iconic mid-century multi-level home in the prestigious Indian Canyons neighborhood was designed by renowned architect Paul Rudolph.”

What caught our eye was the Vrbo listing headline - “3 bedroom 5 bath mid-century 4100 sq ft home featured in modernism week tours.” When members of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation were in Palm Springs for Modernism Week in 2019 to see the Walker Guest House replica we had no idea we were only a 6 minute drive away. No one we spoke to mentioned a Rudolph-designed home was in town, and information about Rudolph at the replica’s installation made no reference to it.

A public records search of Palm Springs (along with a little flying around via Google Earth) and we learned that Casa Colibri is located at 1212 East Sierra Way. According to the property records, the residence was built in 1977. We also found a Zillow listing for a previous sale by Douglas Elliman in 2017 that states:

A house of pure architecture and one of Indian Canyon's most dramatic houses. The different levels recall the work of modernist architect Paul Rudolph and are part of what makes the sight lines so interesting. Extensively renovated by Solterra Construction in 2008 this home has comfortable yet contemporary style and lots of architectural drama.

Within a few years a house that ‘recalls’ Paul Rudolph has become ‘designed’ by him.

19 Greentree Lane in Chester, New York

Photo from the Property Description Report from the Orange County, NY Municipal website

The 7,202 sqft home - which sold for $285,000 in 1995 and then $238,000 in 1999 - jumped 1,034% in price to $2,700,000 in 2014. According to public property records, the home was originally built in 1986 and last modified in 2000-2001. The additions include a 240 s.f. carport, 650 s.f. attached garage and 80 s.f. covered porch. No date is available when the heliport was added on the property.

The residence was listed and delisted several times since 2013 and marketing mentions Paul Rudolph although you might miss it based on the spelling:

“The Hudson Villa is named after its historic origin. Created by the renowned architect Paul Rudolf, the estate is a masterpiece of design and craftsmanship featuring a private white-sand beach and a resort-like setting less than an hour away from New York City.” - Hudson Valley Style Magazine, 07/09/2020

On its own website, the property description states:

“Designed by the renowned American architect Paul Rudolph, the home pays homage to the lodge tradition - precise craftsmanship is evident in architectural accents including cathedral ceilings, light-flooding skylights, and warm stone elements. Security and privacy are front of mind in the design, layout, and features of the property.”

We encourage you to visit the website and judge Rudolph’s participation for yourself based upon the pictures of the home’s interior.

Or, you can check this listing from the Off The Mrkt blog in September 2018:

Reality TV personality and mentor on Scared Straight and MAURY, Dave Vitalli, is selling an aspen style safe house in Chester, New York for $3,088,000.

This safe house located at 19 Greentree Lane was originally built by Paul Rudolph, a renowned architect, in 1986. Rudolph spared no expense when it came to making sure the house would withstand the threats of the world outside. 

The safe house is built of thick slabs of concrete and reinforced steel to help maintain the structure just in case something were to happen. It also has generators, wells, and septic systems in place to allow for comfortable off the grid living. This property has also been previously used as a retreat for diplomats, celebrities, and dignitaries through the years.

The site includes a link to Rudolph’s wikipedia page, because they wouldn’t be able to find a link for the home in our project archives.

Its also interesting to note that the home’s location - Chester, NY - is located in Orange County. Orange County is best known for several Rudolph-related preservation controversies including the destruction of the John W. Chorley Elementary school in Middletown and the partial destruction and insensitive addition to the Orange County Government Center. Could the controversy and Rudolph’s name in the local paper have inspired the marketing connection?

The USModernist organization - which follows and promotes the preservation of modernist homes - says the house was “for sale 2014-2018, advertised as a Paul Rudolph design, based on a claim by the owner. We found no evidence to support that claim whatsoever, and the owner declined to produce any.”

USModernist contacted the property’s real estate agent in 2017, who could not produce any documentation but that Rudolph’s authorship is something ‘the family told them.’ The agent also said the owners commissioned Rudolph to do the renovation.  However, they bought the house in 1999 after Paul Rudolph had passed away in 1997.

After speaking with us, USModernist informed the sales agent and asked that the record be corrected. Instead, the house was delisted only to return yet again as a Rudolph in several relistings with different agents ever since.

Rudolph comes up a few times in the history of this property - either ‘sparing no expense’ in 1986 or renovating the property in 1999 from the afterlife. We note with irony that the renamed ‘Hudson Villa’ is trademarked on the listing’s current website, while taking liberty with the mention of Rudolph’s involvement in the ‘trademark’ design.

Why Now?

Several sales of Rudolph properties have been in the news lately, so we aren’t surprised that Rudolph’s name is being used as a marketing tool.

In 2019, two original Rudolph properties were sold. The 1952 Walker Guest House in Sanibel, Florida was sold at auction by Southebys-New York in December for $750,000 and, with auction house fees, the total came to $920,000. As we reported earlier this month, it is in the process of being moved to a location in California.

The other sale was Rudolph’s 1986 Triestman Residence which went through a subsequent interior modification by the new owner.

In 2020, Rudolph’s 1949 Bennett Residence was sold for $395,500 after being listed for just 3 days. We learned that the new owner purchased it sight unseen for the full asking price - even in the middle of a pandemic.

This year also saw the sale of the Walker Guest House Replica that was on display during Palm Springs Modernism Week (a short drive from the would-be Rudolph) by Heritage Auctions. Bidding began at $10,000 - the budget for the original home when it was first built.

So when we find sellers using Rudolph’s name as a way to get more attention, we take it as a sign of success in our efforts to keep Paul Rudolph’s work in the public’s consciousness.

None of this is meant to make a value judgement about the homes mentioned above, just that they are not Paul Rudolph designs. As is the case with art or architecture, its ‘buyer beware’ and in some cases definitely not ‘you get what you pay for.’