When the Right Client Comes Along: John McAndrew and Paul Rudolph at Wellesley

Paul Rudolph’s perspective rendering of the design for the Jewett Arts Center at Wellesley College—the distinguished liberal-arts college in Massachusetts. As director of Wellesley’s art museum, John McAndrew’s support for having Rudolph be the architect (and his input during the design process) was key to making this project go forward to success.

JOHN MCANDREW’S MODERNIST VISION is Mardges Bacon’s study of the life and accomplishments of an accomplished—but too little known—figure. McAndrew’s name often comes up in the histories of Modernism in design and the arts in the US—but, before this publication, little coherent and concentrated information had been available about him and his activities, projects, and connections.

IN THE BACKGROUND—BUT THEY’RE DECISIVE

If one studies the history of any topic, discipline, or historical era, you’ll come across an intriguing phenomenon: a few names that keep popping-up, often-enough that these persons must have had some real significance—but about whom little is known. No biographies have been published about them, their Wikipedia entries—if they exist at all—are thin, and their obituaries are brief and opaque.

Such figures are almost never in the foreground, yet there’s enough hints about their activities that they come to seem quietly ubiquitous and influential:

• they’re involved in significant projects

• they have key jobs/positions/appointments

• they are thoroughly networked—socially, through family, class, school, profession, or other affinity

• they have access to the famous and powerful people of their era or discipline

• in the acknowledgements sections of project reports, speeches, books, and dedications, they’re thanked (but it’s never clear for what)

• they’re a member of significant boards, committees, commissions, and juries

They just keep showing up.

John Dee (1527 –1609), who performed multiple duties for Queen Elisabeth —including as a national policy advisor, court astronomer, and science advisor. The full extent of his activates and influence still remains a tantalizing mystery.

IN FICTION AND IN LIFE

Fiction has characters similar to this: the cinema has given us Forrest Gump and Zelig; they seemed to saturate TV’s X-Files, and Robert Grossbach’s hilarious novel, A Shortage of Engineers includes the mysterious “OMIT B” (the initials standing for “Old Man In The Back”)—the hidden ultra-expert that one appealed-to when problems seemed insolvable.

But history gives us real examples in every field and era. John J. McCloy is a name that will elicit a shrug from most people—but looking at his resume, one discovers that he was central and active at some of the most important points in the history of mid-20th century international relations, war, and government affairs. François Vatel—the can-do majordomo of France’s Louis IV era—has only recently received a bit of name recognition, due to movie in which he’s depicted by Gérard Depardieu.

Because little is known of them, these figures often become subjects of suspicion: being characterized as éminence grise—one who has power, but is behind the scenes. John Dee, the multifaceted magician-scholar that worked for Queen Elizabeth I, is—four centuries after his passing—still such a figure of tantalizing mystery. But sometimes they later became known as benign or positive forces (who had been forced to remain out of the spotlight because of the prejudices of their era)—Edith Wilson and Bayard Rustin being prime examples.

While McAndrew was associated with the Museum of Modern Art, he wrote several important publications that helped the public begin to understand the Modern movement in design: “What Is Modern Architecture?” (co-written with Elizabeth Mock), and “Guide To Modern Architecture: Northeast States”

JOHN McANDREW AND MODERNISM

JOHN McANDREW was one such figure. McAndrew (1904-1978) was active during some of the most exciting years of the introduction of Modernism in America. He was networked with other campaigners for the cause, and engaging in a wide range of projects and roles in the fields of architecture and art. Yet, until the recently published full biography by architectural historian Mardges Bacon—John McAndrew’s Modernist Vision—the full extent of his multiple contributions was not known.

Even now, McAndrew still does not have a Wikipedia page—and this indicates the intractability of anonymity. Yet his CV is broad, deep, and impressive. McAndrew—

• Became a friend, associate, and/or colleague of other important activists and scholars in the field of Modern art and architecture, including Henry-Russell Hitchcock, Philip Johnson, Julien Levy, and Alfred Barr—and, later, Paul Rudolph.

• Studied and practiced architecture and interior design

• Was a key staff member of the Julien Levy Gallery in New York—the premiere gallery showing (and advocating for) Modern art in the US in the 1930’s and 40’s

• Helped helped develop (and became head of) the Department of Architecture and Design at New York’s Museum of Modern Art—the world’s first curatorial department devoted to Modern work in those fields.

• While there, he mounted landmark exhibitions on the Bauhaus, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater, Modern Furniture, and a comprehensive show on Wright’s career. He also co-designed the first version of the museum’s garden, and was involved with numerous museum exhibits, activities, and publications.

• Wrote (for the Museum of Modern Art) Guide To Modern Architecture: Northeastern States (1940), and the popular book (co-written with Elizabeth Mock, who became director after him) What Is Modern Architecture? (1942, with a second edition in 1946)

• Wrote several books on architecture—modern and traditional

• During World War II, while based in Mexico, coordinated inter-American affairs for the US government

• Lectured internationally for the US Information Service

• Taught at Vassar, Wellesley, the Hartford Art School, and New York University

• Designed the Vassar College Art Library—possibly the first modern interior on a US college campus

• Director of the Wellesley College Art Museum, from 1948-to-1958

• Founded (and was later president) of the Save Venice fund, devoted to preserving that treasured—but ever threatened—city

A page from the Mardges Bacon’s study of McAndrew. The book delves into the subject’s networks and colleagues—making us aware of the connections, without which McAndrew’s life (or anyone’s) cannot be understood. Shown are photos of three key figures in McAndrew’s life (left-to-right): architectural historian Henry-Russell Hitchcock (who also worked closely with Philip Johnson), modern art gallery dealer Julien Levy, and museum curator A. Everett Austin.

Another page from Mardges Bacon’s McAndrew biography, showing the lively design of an invitation to a 1932 opening of Surrealist art at the Julien Levy Gallery. McAndrew was a key creative and organizational force in the gallery, and might well have coordinated the production of this graphic. This graphic object is significant because it was designed by Joseph Cornell (whom, near that year, began creating the diorama artworks which would bring him world-wide fame.)

McAndrew is well-deserving of the attention he’s now received via Madres Bacon’s book, which reveals the banquet of his involvements and accomplishments—but it’s his connection with Paul Rudolph that we seek to highlight.

An aerial photograph of the completed Jewett Arts Center at Wellesley, showing approximately the same set of elements as in Rudolph’s perspective rendering below—including the dramatic staircases that took visitors up to the reception area and large art gallery (which bridged over a ground-level passage.)

WELLESLEY’S ARTS CENTER: A BREAKTHROUGH PROJECT FOR RUDOLPH

Up through the mid-1950’s, Paul Rudolph was primarily an architect of houses. That’s not unusual for the trajectory of most American architects, whose work usually commences with residential projects—and, in the era just after WWII, Rudolph was preeminent in designing some of the US’ most creative, inventive, and elegant Modern homes. For Rudolph, this was soon to change. He continued to do residential design throughout his half-century career, but he became as well-known for his non-residential works: civic buildings, offices, churches, laboratories—and especially educational buildings.

In that career path, the Mary Cooper Jewett Arts Center, at Wellesley College was the breakthrough project for him—the one in which Rudolph (who was always ambitious to try new design challenges) branched-out from residential work.

Paul Rudolph become known as a master of architectural perspective drawing—and above is a one of his renderings for the Jewett Arts Center at Wellesley. In this drawing, Rudolph showed some key features of the building’s design, including the rooftop skylights and the exterior screens.

Rudolph’s site plan shows the new arts building complex at the upper-left. It completes the quadrangle which had already been partially defined by the existing Wellesley buildings at the top, right, and bottom.

THE CHALLENGE—AND RUDOLPH’S STRATEGY

Wellesley College, in Wellesley, Massachusetts, was founded in 1870, and is an elite private liberal arts college with a stellar list of alumni. When Paul Rudolph received the commission to design a new arts center, he was working within an existing context of buildings that were built in a style most often characterized as “Collegiate Gothic.”

Rudolph’s challenge was to complete one side of an existing quadrangle (on whose other sides were situated the vintage college buildings.) The new complex would have to accommodate a variety of spaces and uses: a reception area, theater workshop, auditorium, two art galleries, two libraries, research facilities, classrooms, and storage.

In the 1971 book, Paul Rudolph (which featured photographs of Yukio Futagawa, and was the first independent monograph devoted to the Rudolph) Rupert Spade (the pseudonym of writer-editor-critic Martin Pawley) gives a concise description and Rudolph’s strategy:

“Built in association with Anderson, Beckwith, and Haible, and commissioned at a time when Rudolph had never designed anything larger than a three-bedroom house, the Wellesley Arts Center represents his tour de force of integration with an existing style—in this case the pseudo-gothic. Careful study of proportion and massing led him to create a design combining the dimensional basis of the original with a novel massing and use of materials—including the use of porcelain-enameled aluminum sun-screens conceived as a kind of ‘built-in ivy’. The structure of the extension is in reinforced concrete and the facing materials are brick and limestone. The art department itself is linked to a classroom and auditorium block by a bridging exhibition gallery. The conical skylights—much criticized by opponents of Rudolph’s eclecticism—are intended to echo the repeated gables of the existing building.”

[By-the-way: Spade is not-quite-accurate in saying that Paul Rudolph, up to that time, had never designed anything larger than a house. He had designed several larger buildings—but Spade is correct in spirit: none of those projects had been built. So Jewett was the first, large, non-residential design of Rudolph’s to progress all-the-way to construction.]

A Rudolph-designed construction detail of the Jewett Arts Center building, as shown in Design With Glass.

John Peter’s 1964 book on the use of glass in Modern architecture, Design With Glass, looks further at the building’s materials. Speaking of the harmony that the Rudolph’s complex achieved with the campus’ older buildings, Peter asserts:

“It would be difficult to find a better example of this in in detail than the way in which the glass is handled. The pointed skylights of the visual arts wing recall the pattern of triangular dormer visible all over the older campus. the slot-like windows of the performing arts wing echo the perpendicular windows of the existing Neo-Gothic building. The large applied wood strips provide a deep reveal with structural solidity backed by solid lumber which eliminates exposed fastener heads on the interior. Perhaps the most intriguing example of planned relationship is the great porcelain-enamel of aluminum grille protecting the north and south windows of the visual arts wing. Designed to the lacy scale of “man-made ivy” it matches in color the limestone of the other campus buildings.”

Philip Johnson, in a 1960 article in Art In America, “Great Reputations in the Making: Three Architects,” presented architects whom he [then] defined as “under-recognized artists”: Louis Kahn, Paul Rudolph, and Frederick Kiesler—and he characterized Rudolph as: “. . . .articulate, inventive, mercurial, tough.” Rudolph’s section included a photo of Jewett with its metallic screens, and Johnson uses their form to conclude:

“This is an example of Rudolph’s strong linear quality combined with his discontent with plain surfaces.”

That “discontent with plain surfaces” would manifest throughout Rudolph’s later work, as is evident in Rudolph’s most famous masterwork, the Yale Art & Architecture Building—whose ribbed concrete (and other texturing techniques) he’d continue to utilize in other projects.

Rudolph himself spoke about Wellesley’s design challenge:

“The problem was to add to a pseudo-gothic campus in such a way as to enhance the existing campus and still make a valid twentieth century building. The siting, manipulation of scale, use of materials, and silhouette helped to extend the environment.

Wellesley’s alumni magazine covered the project several times, from beginning to completion—as can be seen in these two examples:

In a March, 1956 issue: showing the proposed design in model form, in the context of the campus’ existing buildings

In a November, 1958 issue: after completion, showing an interior of one of the center’s two art galleries.

Looking back, more than a decade later, Rudolph was frank in his own assessment of the result:

The sequence of spaces leading under the connecting bridge up to the raised courtyard and the tower beyond works, but the interior spatial sequence is unclear, overly detailed and in many cases badly proportioned.”

Whether the Jewett Arts Center met with Rudolph’s ultimate approval is one thing—but it did get broad coverage in the architectural press, indicating that—at least to journal editors—the design seemed interesting and fresh. Wellesley maintains a website with a fascinating collection of such articles, including a 1959 issue of the distinguished French architectural journal, L'Architecture d'Aujourd'hui. Here, in one representative page from that magazine’s coverage of Rudolph’s design, one can get an idea of the visual richness that he achieved:

Another of Rudolph’s perspective renderings for the Jewett Arts Center: here he shows the entry plaza that was part of the arts center complex—and, centered in the near-distance, is the bridging section of the building (which connected its two main volumes.). McAndrew moved the college’s art museum into these expanded quarters in 1958.

McANDREW AND RUDOLPH

John McAndrew joined the faculty of Wellesley College’s Art Department in 1946, starting as a lecturer, and rising to a professorship—and would stay there for over two decades, retiring in 1968.

In 1948, he was appointed to be Director of the Wellesley College Museum—and remained so for a decade, until 1958. According to Wellesley’s website, “He was a robust collections builder, and under his leadership the collections came to include works by many pioneers of European modernism.”

The Jewett Arts Center commission was given to Paul Rudolph in 1955—but how did he obtain this project, one which was so important to his career?

It turns-out that the connections between McAndrew and Rudolph were multiple:

• John McAndrew was familiar with Paul Rudolph’s work in Sarasota

• McAndrew would have known of Rudolph’s design work for the Museum of Modern Art (where McAndrew had been a key staff member)

• They both knew Philip Johnson—another major campaigner for architectural Modernism, and a pillar of the Museum of Modern Art

• In 1941 McAndrew had received his graduate architecture degree at Harvard (under Gropius), and 1941 is the year that Rudolph started in the same program—so the two of them may have first intersected on the Harvard campus

Mardges Bacon is illuminating about McAndrew’s contribution to the project, and relation to Rudolph’s work there—and we’ll let her tell the story:

For a decade McAndrew served concurrently as a professor and as director of the Wellesley college Museum, known as the Farnsworth Museum (1948-1958). In that capacity he represented the college as client for the new art museum, the Mary Cooper Jewett Arts Center. In the fall of 1955 Paul Rudolph received the commission as a result of a closed competition among a short list of candidates drawn up by McAndrew, which included Eero Saarinen, Edward Durrell Stone, Marcel Breuer, Hugh Stubbins, and Paul Rudolph. Most were experienced and highly respected architects with whom McAndrew had previously worked during his curatorship at MoMA. That was not the case with the young Rudolph. McAndrew knew Rudolph and his early work with Ralph Twitchell in Sarasota, Florida, at least since the spring of 1950. . . . Impressed with Rudolph’s Sarasota buildings, McAndrew expressed the Department of Art’s preference in a letter to Wellesley president Margaret Clap inferring that Rudolph would be “likely to produce the most distinguished design . . . one of quality.”

 Bacon continues:

McAndrew seemed to have had a personal stake in shaping Rudolph’s final design During the two-year phase of the project’s design development, the museum director worked with the Department of Art chair Agnes Abbot to supply Rudolph with continual critiques, especially on the articulation of the building’s exterior.

And Bacon give further confirmation of McAndrew’s own thoughts about his contribution the project:

To accompany a 1960 editorial by McAndrew, the editors Museum News included a text that. . . .also affirmed his advisory role in planning the Jewett Arts Center. Find an architect ‘sympathetic to your needs,” McAndrew counseled readers in his editorial: “if the building is fine, part of the credit is yours; if not, yours may be half the fault.” Clearly, McAndrew felt that he was responsible for selecting the right architect and helping to craft the building’s design such that he could also share its success.

The history and development of the Jewett building is complex: Rudolph struggled over the design, seeking a contextually sensitive solution that would also be true to the principles of Modernism. He came up with a succession of schemes, and the story of the building’s evolution is described in Timothy M. Rohan’s monograph on Rudolph—and also studied, in-depth, in “The Landscape & Architecture of Wellesley College.”

JOHN McANDREWS—INTO THE LIGHT

While there are a variety of sources about the history of the Jewett Arts Center (like the ones mentioned above) we are especially glad to have Mardges Bacon’s book—both for what it shares about McAndrew and Rudolph; but even more because she has brought a key “background” player in 20th culture out of the shadows, and given him the biography and acknowledgments he deserves: John McAndrew.

The proposed Revere Development, for Siesta Key, Florida, a project from 1948. The drawing appears to be a tempera-gouache rendering, and it is signed by Rudolph.

P.S. - PAUL RUDOLPH AND HIS RENDERING

The rendering of the proposed Jewett Arts Center (shown at the top of this article) is of a different character from most of the presentation drawings which Rudolph created during his half-century career. Rudolph is most well-known for his pen-and-ink perspective drawings (and especially his perspective-sections)—but this drawing was done in tempera or gouache.

We do know of a very few drawings from the Rudolph office which appear to be in that medium—notably his aerial view of the Revere Development project in Florida (which is signed by Rudolph), and a rendering of his 1957 Blue Cross-Blue Shield Building in Boston. But examples of tempera-gouache drawings become rarer as Rudolph’s career progresses.

In fact, we have some testimony about Paul Rudolph’s attitude to that drawing medium from his former student, Robert A. M. Stern. In an interview with the editors of Paprika (the student publication of Yale’s School of Architecture), Stern remarks:

Question: “Have you ever been ‘Bobbed’ during a review or presentation?”
Answer: (confused) “ ‘Bobbed’? What’s that mean? I think it’s a common term amongst students. What does that mean? You mean, given hell? (editors laugh) I think that’s down to the point. Oh, of course! First of all, as a student… I mean, Paul Rudolph took no prisoners. If you think I’m a tough critic, you don’t know what a tough critic is. (laughter) Once there was a student, I think we were in second year, and he hung up a drawing—there used to be things like sketch problems and short problems in studios in a term, you did two projects in a term, not one. Anyhow, he put up a drawing, which was a tempera rendering. Rudolph thought tempera drawings were terrible, and certainly thought this guy’s was terrible and he said, ‘Mr. X,’—I won’t use his name,—‘that is the single ugliest drawing I have ever seen.’ ”

BOOK INFORMATION AND AVAILABILITY:

• TITLE: John McAndrew’s Modernist Vision

• AUTHOR: Mardges Bacon

• PUBLISHER: Princeton Architectural Press

• PRINT FORMAT: Hardcover, 9-1/2” x 7'“, 192 pages, numerous black & white and color illustrations

• ISBN: 9781616896409

• ELECTRONIC FORMAT: Kindle (Amazon) and Nook (Barnes & Noble) versions available

• PUBISHER’S WEB PAGE FOR THE BOOK: here

• AMAZON PAGE: here

• BARNES & NOBLE PAGE: here

The exterior stairs of the Jewett Arts Center at Wellesley College, centrally located in the building complex This view is looking away from the building, and towards the other side of the campus quadrangle.

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IMAGE CREDITS

NOTES:

The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation 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/If Wikimedia Commons links are provided, they are linked to the information page for that particular image. Information about the rights for the use of 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:

Wellesley Jewett Arts Center Building, perspective rendering, in color: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Cover of Madres Bacon’s biographical study of John McAndrew, “John McAndrew’s Modernist Vision”: from the publisher’s page for that book;  Line engraving portrait of John Dee: from the Wellcome Collection gallery, via Wikimedia;  Cover of “What Is Modern Architecture”: from the Amazon page for that book;  Cover of “Guide to Modern Architecture: Northeast States”: from the Amazon page for that book;  Sample pages from Madres Bacon’s book: screen captures from on-line images of the book;  Aerial view of the Jewett Arts Center: from the archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation, © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Wellesley perspective rendering (in black & white linework) by Paul Rudolph: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Wellesley campus plan, showing Rudolph’s proposed new building (drawn in black & white linework) by Paul Rudolph: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Wellesley glazing construction detail drawings, as reproduced in “Design With Glass” book, drawings by Paul Rudolph (in black & white linework: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Covers of Wellesley Alumnae Magazine: screen captures from Wellesley’s “Jewett in Print” archive page;  Page from L'Architecture d'Aujourd'hui coverage of Rudolph’s building: screen capture from Wellesley’s “Jewett in Print” archive page;  Wellesley perspective rendering, by Paul Rudolph: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Revere Development rendering by Paul Rudolph: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Exterior stairs at Wellesley Jewett Arts Center: from the from the archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation, © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

Megastructure — The Reissue of a Modern Classic (and Rudolph's on the cover!)

The cover of the new edition of “Megastructure: Urban Futures Of The Recent Past” which has been reissued by Monacelli Press. Paul Rudolph’s LOMEX project is featured on the cover.

A CLASSIC aBOUT THE FUTURE

The original, 1976 edition of Megastructure also featured Rudolph’s perspective-section of LOMEX on the cover (but in black and white). Over the years, copies of this edition have become rare and expensive.

“Megastructure” was architectural historian Reyner Banham’s book on one of the most exciting architectural developments the post-World War II era: MEGASTRUCTURES. It was originally published in 1976, and that edition became a rare book (if you could find a copy at all, it could cost hundreds of dollars.)

The good news is that Monacelli Press has brought out a reprint of this fascinating book. Monacelli is known for publishing books on design and the arts, and doing so with superb production values—and they live up to their fine reputation with this new edition.

The original had featured Paul Rudolph’s perspective-section drawing of his LOMEX project on the cover—and the new edition retains that image, but now shows it in color. It also includes a new foreword by Todd Gannon, the head of the Architecture Section at Ohio State University’s Knowlton School, and a scholar of Reyner Banham’s work. Banham’s book was published nearly 45 years ago, and Professor Gannon’s essay provides important context.

MEGASTRUCTURES

Above: Habitat, a housing complex built for the Expo 67 World’s Fair in Montreal. Designed by Moshe Safdie, it is sometimes cited as and example of the small percentage of megastructure proposals which actually got built. Middle: A street-level corner view of the Pompidou Center, the museum-arts-exhibition center which opened in Paris in 1977. As is evident here, it embraces some of the formal language often associated with megastructures: a celebration of articulated structure, and the explicit display of the building’s mechanical systems. Bottom: The Nakagin Capsule Tower, built in Tokyo in 1972. The possibility of growth and change—one of the characteristics associated with megastructures—is implied by the building’s cellular design.

Megastructures can be capsulized as vastly scaled and ambitiously conceived architectural designs—the size of a chunk of a city (or a whole metropolis.) But megastructures are not just defined by size. History already provides us an abundance of examples of built structures which awe by their scale—from the Pyramids -to- NASA’s huge Vertical Assembly Building—but which are not megastructures.

True megastructures usually embrace multiple functions, aspiring to be (or emulate) complete cities within a single armature. They often accommodate transportation (sometimes several types), and places for living, commerce, work, education, and entertainment—all within an infrastructure of structural and mechanical systems which are elaborately developed and expressed. [And if the design incorporated flexibility, to allow it to change or grow (or both), all-the-better—for that gave it an attractive dynamic quality.]

Megastructures were a “thing”—an exciting trend—in architecture, especially in the period when Banham was most well-known: the 1960’s. Architecture and popular magazines published stories about megastructures—either imaginary designs proposed by architects to deal with real (or equally imagined) urban problems -or- less frequently there was coverage of megastructure projects that had actual clients. Models of megastructures were magnets for attention at any design exhibition, and they filled the portfolios of that era’s architecture students (who are ever fascinated with the futuristic.) As one can imagine, relatively few megastructures (even those which were actually commissioned by a real client) were built—but these daring, forward-looking designs continue to excite because of their intriguing forms and the grandeur of their visions.

REYNER BANHAM

Banham (1922-1988) was hard to miss. The architectural historian had a relatively short life, but for a couple of decades—from the 60’s to the 80’s—he seemed to be everywhere. An un-ignorable presence—tall, broad-shouldered, with a full bushy beard, and with the bright-spirited presence of a boisterous English Santa Claus—he was inserted into the architectural community’s consciousness through his continuous lecturing, teaching, traveling, and via captivating books and journal articles. Those appearances—whether in person or print—were always accompanied by a sense of wonder: one resonated to Banham’s own combination of surprise and delight at what he had discovered and the enthusiasm with which he shared it. He always produced an intellectual an aesthetic thrill for those who followed him into exploring new areas of thought, or by looking into chapters of design history that had been left untended for too long.

THE “FIRST APROXIMATION” HISTORIAN

The Ponte Vecchio in Florence—Banham quotes Paul Rudolph as citing it as an example of a megastructure.

Le Corbusier’s perspective drawing of his urban design for Algiers, a project from the early 1930’s. The architect-designed overall structure provides space and flexibility for a variety of uses and designs (and even styles) which could be built within. This project is cited by Reyner Banham as an early example of a megastructure within the Modern movement.

While the prime era of megastructure design is the 1960’s, Banham’s book points out proto-megastructures—designs from throughout architectural history that share the characteristics of megastructures. He cites design complexes like Rockefeller Center -or- Medieval/Renaissance city bridges (upon which were accommodated a multiplicity of buildings and functions) -or- Le Corbusier’s urban design project for Algiers—and one of the pleasures of Banham’s work (both in this book and his other writings) was his ability to vividly connect seemingly new ideas with older architectural works which exemplified those theories.

With his work on megastructures—research he initiated in the mid-1970’s—Banham was engaged in what he called “first approximation history.” That’s his term for when an historian first attempts to grasp the outlines (and write the history) of a very recent movement or phenomenon. There’s always danger in doing that close to the era being studied: for without the perspective and wisdom that comes from viewing things at a distance of years (or decades), no historian can, with a high level of confidence, discern what was truly significant about an event or period. Yet, Banham asserted, somebody has got to be the first take on making an estimate and assessment of what happened—and that is what he termed the “first approximation.” He specifically cited the megastructure movement (which, when he started doing the research for the 1976 book, was passing out of its high-energy phase) as a subject for which he was acting as the first approximation historian.

PAUL RUDOLPH: MASTER OF MEGASTRUCTUES

A page spread, from within the Megastructures book, in which Rudolph and his LOMEX project are discussed.

Most megastructures are visionary, and such visions—dreams of an ideal life though residing within a singular and coherent vision of a highly advanced architectural structure—will inevitably remain in the land of the imagination.

But some megastructures did get built—and Paul Rudolph is notable as an architect for the ones that he designed—several of which were constructed.

Paul Rudolph was very conscious of the possibilities that megastructures offered—as shown in this portion of an interview of Rudolph conducted by Jeffrey Cook and Heinrich Klotz (to be found in their 1973 book Conversations With Architects—which is also quoted in Banham’s book):

Cook: What is the dominant tendency in architecture since Mies?

Rudolph: After Mies, the megastructure.

Cook: Are there any models for understanding the megastructure visually? Or does it remain in the realm of ideas. . . . Did you have any examples to work from for this idea?

Rudolph: Oh gosh, a lot of people have worked on megastructure. The best model I have found is the bridge in Florence.

Cook: Ponte Vecchio.

Rudolph: The Ponte Vecchio— the shops along the pedestrian way and over it marvelous housing. The scale of supports is in keeping with the vehicular way, and then there is a working down of scale. There is nothing new. That is a megastructure, and probably the purest example in traditional architecture.

It’s also worth noting that Rudolph was in Japan in 1960, at an international conference of architects where Metabolism—that Japanese architectural movement which most fervently embraced megastructures—was born. [We wrote about this in an earlier article, here.]

Rudolph having, digested (and maybe contributed to) the megastructure concept, designing using it—and this can clearly be seen in several significant projects. This approach was most manifest in his work in the 1960’s—the richest era, worldwide, for the design of megastructures.

Some of these designs from Rudolph’s oeuvre are among his most significant built works: the UMass Dartmouth campus, the Boston Government Service Center, and the Burroughs Wellcome headquarters and research center in North Carolina. The latter, Burroughs Wellcome, was specifically designed with flexibility for expansion—and, over the course of a decade, Rudolph did create several additions to it.

Even the unbuilt projects, like LOMEX, remain icons of design—and strong evidence of that project’s power is that Banham chose LOMEX for the cover of his book.

Rudolph returned to the megastructure approach in several large designs later in his career, and none more clearly than in his 1990 Gatot Subroto project for Jakarta.

1962: Rudolph’s Boston Govt. Service Center

1963: Rudolph’s UMass Dartmouth campus

1967: Rudolph’s Graphic Arts Center for NYC

1967: Rudolph’s LOMEX project for Manhattan

1969: Rudolph’s Burroughs Wellcome in North Carolina

1990: Rudolph’s Gatot Subroto for Jakarta

We congratulate and thank Monacelli Press for bringing out this excellent, new—and much needed—edition of Reyner Banham’s Megastructures.

BOOK INFORMATION AND AVAILABILITY:

• TITLE: Megastructure: Urban Futures Of The Recent Past

• AUTHOR: Reyner Banham; with a new foreword by Todd Gannon

• PUBLISHER: Monacelli Press

• FORMAT: Hardcover; 8-1/2 x 11 inches; 232 pages; 222 illustrations

• ISBN: 9781580935401

• PUBISHER’S WEB PAGE FOR THE BOOK: here

• AMAZON PAGE: here

• BARNES & NOBLE PAGE: here

IMAGE CREDITS:

Habitat at Expo 67: Photo by ProtoplasmaKid, via Wikimedia Commons; Pompidou Center: Photo by Gabriel Fernandes, via Wikimedia Commons; Nakagin Capsule Tower: Photo by Kakidai, via Wikimedia Commons; Ponte Vecchio: Photo by Amada44, via Wikimedia Commons; Boston Government Service Center: Photo by G. E. Kidder Smith, courtesy of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology; UMass Dartmouth: Photograph by Kelvin Dickinson, © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Graphic Arts Center: Photographer unknown; LOMEX: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation'; Burroughs Wellcome: Image courtesy of the Wellcome Collection; Gatot Subroto: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

The Buildings Couldn't Be Saved—But the Vision Can Be Honored: the Kickstarter Campaign for the New Book about Rudolph's "SHORELINE"

Learn about the Kickstarter Campaign for the book that takes a fresh look at Paul Rudolph’s partially-realized project for a dynamic, mixed-use neighborhood in Buffalo: SHORELINE

SHORELINE: RUDOLPH’S VISION OF DIGNIFIED HOUSING

Paul Rudolph was a master of architectural perspective drawing—and this is his rendering of a portion of his vison for the Shoreline Apartments development. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

Located steps from Buffalo, NY’s City Hall, Shoreline Apartments was an extensive housing complex designed by Paul Rudolph and completed in 1974. Featuring shed roofs, ribbed concrete exteriors, projecting balconies, and enclosed garden courts, the project combined Rudolph’s spatial radicalism with his innovative designs for human-scaled, high-density housing and a mix of multiple functions.

Rudolph’s scheme featured an arrangement of monumental, terraced high-rises flanking a marina, a sprawling school and community center, and a series of low and mid-rise apartment buildings meant to evoke Italian mountain villages, with green spaces woven through the site.

Arthur Drexler, the powerful director of the Museum of Modern Art’s Architecture and Design Department, included Shoreline in the 1970 MoMA exhibition, Work in Progress. The work, he said, showed—

“With few exceptions, Paul Rudolph’s buildings can be recognized by their complexity, their sculptural details, their effects of scale and their texture.”

And that they manifest—

“. . . .a commitment to the idea that architecture, besides being technology, sociology and moral philosophy, must finally produce works of art if it is to be worth bothering about at all.”

A VISION PARTIALLY FULFILLED

ABOVE: Another of Paul Rudolph’s architectural renderings of Shoreline, this one showing some of the low-rise housing that was built. This drawing is anticipated to be on the cover of the new book. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

LEFT: An aerial view of a portion of Shoreline. Photograph by Donald Luckenbill © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

In the end, only two phases of the Shoreline affordable housing development were built, and families moved in and made lives there—as can be seen in the below photos.

Views of Shoreline, occupied and and active with life. ABOVE: Photograph by Joseph W. Molitor courtesy of Columbia University, Avery Architectural and Fine Arts Library, Joseph W. Molitor Photograph Collection. BELOW: Photograph by G. E. Kidder Smith, courtesy of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology

AND A VISION OVERSHADOWED—aND SPURNED

Some of the remains of the demolished Shoreline project. Photograph by William Vogel

After years of occupancy, they became among the most reviled buildings in Buffalo because—like many public housing designs of that era—their inventive, complex forms and admirable social aspirations were overshadowed by disrepair, crime, and vacancy. Even so, some saw positive values in Paul Rudolph’s designs, and attempts were made to save Shoreline.

Following failed attempts at landmarking the structures for preservation, the first round of demolitions began in summer 2015—and In 2017, the site’s current owner accelerated the demolition schedule. As of January 2018, the last holdout was vacated from his unit.

REMEMBERING A POSITIVE VISION

The 2019 exhibition, Shoreline: Remembering a Waterfront Vision, at El Museo

El Museo is a Buffalo-based nonprofit visual arts organization, dedicated to the exhibition of contemporary work by underserved artists, and cultural programming that engages diverse communities. In 2019 they presented an exhibition, Shoreline: Remembering a Waterfront Vision, showing drawings, photographs, documents, and artworks, spanning from the original vision of the Buffalo Waterfront Development in the 1960s to the eventual destruction of Shoreline in recent years. The exhibition materials, drawn from archival sources as well as artistic responses, traced the erosion of an architectural, urban, and social vision for Buffalo’s waterfront, one that was only ever partially realized.

Considering the Shoreline within this context, they looked at the architectural style of Brutalism, the complicated history of urban renewal, and the past attempts by government to play a leading role in developing cities and providing social housing on a mass scale. They asked: Amidst Buffalo’s so-called renaissance, when its historical assets are being reevaluated, preserved, and restored, why was there a race to forget the Shoreline?

Following the exhibition, Remembering Shoreline included a two-day public symposium that brought together architects, planners, researchers, and activists from Buffalo and beyond to take a closer look at the history of the Shoreline Apartments, and discuss Paul Rudolph, Brutalism, urban renewal, housing, and preservation.

SHORELINE— THE BOOK

As of mid-2020, almost all of Shoreline complex has been lost to the bulldozer. While we cannot bring back the buildings, it is important that we remember this history in a tangible way.

El Museo is currently working on collecting the materials and ideas from their exhibition and symposium into a book, to be published in Spring 2021: Shoreline: Remembering a Waterfront Vision. 

It will include the exhibition materials such as drawings and photographs from Paul Rudolph’s archive, as well as works by Avye Alexandres, David Torke, Kurt Treeby, and Rima Yamazaki. Also featured will be essays by and conversations with symposium participants Kelvin Dickinson, Kate Wagner, Mark Byrnes, Susanne Schindler, Henry Taylor, Charles Davis, Jessie Fisher, Aaron Bartley, and editors Barbara Campagna and Bryan Lee.

THE KICKSTARTER CAMPAIGN

El Museo is publishing this book independently, and your contribution will go towards the cost of editing and printing this full-color, perfect-bound, 8x10 volume. The book that will vividly show the importance this example of a vision for the public good—a type of Initiative which leaders had engaged in, and which were embodied in the designs of great architects like Paul Rudolph.

We hope you will help make this project happen—and there’s a Kickstarter Campaign to fund the book. You can find out about it HERE, including the benefits of contributing—like getting copies of the book, photographic color prints of Shoreline, and large-format prints of Paul Rudolph’s compelling drawings of Shoreline.

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.

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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

Kickstarter Campaign Launched to Render Rudolph Project

Rudolph’s Perspective Rendering of the unbuilt Gatot Subroto project for Jakarta, Indonesia. Image © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation.

A Kickstarter campaign has been launched by researcher and author Eric Wolff to professionally render one of Paul Rudolph’s little-known late works, the unbuilt Gatot Subroto project in Jakarta, Indonesia.

From the kickstarter site:

Some refer to his late works in Asia as ”seven buildings including a couple of villas” and describe Rudolph’s late career as a kind of afterthought to a, at times controversial but, prolific career.  My research into Rudolph’s archives, interviews with his office personnel and visits to his buildings in Asia, reveal that Rudolph‘s late career period was not only bountiful, but reflects a period where Rudolph was performing at the peak of his capabilities and sensibilities producing some of his finest works ever.  In his late career (1978 - 1997), Rudolph participated in about 50 projects and completed upwards of 20 buildings in Asia, cementing his place alongside, and sometimes in direct competition with, architectural titans like Richard Meier, I.M. Pei, Kenzo Tange and John Portman.  Rudolph’s late works are not well known and have not been fully evaluated, in this project I am recreating select Paul Rudolph buildings digitally from his archived drawings/material and rendering them into illustration.

Importantly, many of the ”undiscovered” Asian works exemplify Rudolph‘s specific contributions to Modernist Architecture.  You do not have to love Rudolph's buildings to appreciate that he pushed the envelope in terms of sculptural design; but he also innovated in areas of sustainability and structure.  In this project I will illustrate the ambitious Gatot Subroto (unbuilt), that was designed for Jakarta, Indonesia as an ”office village” with 875,000 square feet of office space, and 450,000 square feet of parking.  The outcome will be a full color poster sized realistic rendering of the Gatot Subroto at dusk, as well if budget allows several close up realistic renderings of the buildings interior and roof garden spaces.

The late works in Asia demonstrate how the Modernist principles base of Le Corbusier, Mies van der Rohe and Frank Lloyd Wright were combined and evolved by Paul Rudolph to create a unique new vocabulary that would inspire today’s contemporary architects.

The Gatot Subroto (Jakarta, Indonesia 1990) is an example of Rudolph’s unique point of view.  The client requested eight towers to be developed on an existing property as an office condominium complex in which the Dharmala group would occupy part of the space.  Rudolph’s initial designs reflected the request of eight towers, joined by floors spanning the complex reading as a ”perforated wall”.  The client wanted a more cohesive look from the busy street and in order to attract top clients, did not want their own anchor space to dominate the design.  Rudolph, heeding the client feedback, in his final design created a masterpiece!

The Gatot Subroto represents one of the earliest examples of sustainability in architecture.  its windows are slanted and shaded to deflect the mid-day Indonesian sun.  Between the cantilevered three floor blocks are void-decks capped with roof garden terraces, increasing the green factor higher than the buildings footprint.  A testament to sustainability before it was even in fashion.

Paul Rudolph’s original project model for the Gatot Subroto project. Image © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation.

Mr. Wolff began researching the architect’s late designs for his upcoming book RUDOLPH :: RENAISSANCE Evaluating Paul Rudolph’s contributions to Architecture through his undiscovered late works until in-person activities were curtailed due to COVID-19.  Not to be deterred, he began to recreate Rudolph's “unbuilt” designs as digital models.  

The Gatot Subroto model in progress. Image courtesy Eric Wolff.

According to Mr. Wolff,

“As part of my research I am digitally ‘building’ the Gatot Subroto based on drawings and models from Rudolph’s uncatalogued materials.  I am working with a firm to render my digital ‘build’ into a life-like poster sized illustration of the building.  We will render a scene with the building as seen from the street at dusk to emphasize the structure and fenestration.  The output will be a large full-color poster illustration of the Gatot Subroto at dusk, which we will have professionally printed and available for donors. The illustration will later be used in the book and at events promoting the book.

To illustrate these designs an exciting collaboration with Design Distill was born.  Design Distill is a multidisciplinary group that has the passion, talents and capabilities to translate my research of Paul Rudolph’s late works into visualizations, bringing the buildings to life so they can be evaluated and celebrated.

Rudolph’s buildings need to be experienced to be properly critiqued; making life-like  illustrations will help viewers experience the buildings and interior spaces more completely.  The digitization will help myself and other researchers study the structural and design elements intended by Rudolph.  It will ”preserve” the buildings as they were intended to be built but with the ability to look at them in three dimensions and with the possibility of exporting the files for 3-D printing.

Importantly, the ‘eye candy’ of the buildings mask important contributions and innovations that Rudolph gave to the world of architecture, and through the rendering of his works his design principles can be further evaluated.  This project will re-create the Gatot Subroto from blueprints, models and drawings and produce realistic renderings of the exterior, roof gardens and select interior spaces so they can be better understood and evaluated.  The funding from this Kickstarter has been budgeted specifically for the work related to the Gatot Subroto.

The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation’s mission includes supporting research about Mr. Rudolph’s architectural legacy and we are assisting Mr. Wolff’s kickstarter campaign as well as his future book.

We encourage you to help make this project a reality by going to the kickstarter link here and please share this project with your friends. Let’s see the Gatot Subroto project as Rudolph had intended!

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

Rudolph at Burroughs Wellcome: Concept, Development, and the Caring Details

The Burroughs Wellcome was designed for growth—and this is a section drawing study by Paul Rudolph, for an extension to the building. Such a colorful drawing might look exuberantly and boldly “arty” (as though the architect had only a nebulous relation to practicalities)—but a close inspection shows that, while Rudolph was developing the overall concept, he was simultaneously paying close attention to dimensions, adjacencies, floor heights, and the locations of different functions. This kind of drawing—seemingly florid, but layered with distilled, practical information—is typical of the kind of study drawings which Paul Rudolph did at the beginning of his design process. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation.

"We Must Understand That After All The Building Committees, The Conflicting Interests, The Budget Considerations, And The Limitations Of His Fellow Man Have Been Taken Into Consideration, The Architect’s Responsibility Has Just Begun. He Must Understand That Exhilarating, Awesome Moment.

When He Takes Pencil In Hand, And Holds It Poised Above A White Sheet Of Paper, He Has Suspended There All That Has Gone Before And All That Will Ever Be." 

—Paul Rudolph

ARCHITECTURAL DESIGN: THE MYSTERY

In looking at Burroughs Wellcome—one of Paul Rudolph’s best (and best loved) creations—one naturally wonders: How did such a design come to be? With a prolific architect like Rudolph, whose creativity took him along so many different paths, that’s a compelling inquiry.

“How does the magic happen?” That’s one way of putting one of the most fascinating questions about the creation of architecture—for it’s indeed a wonder how one gets all-the-way from a client’s request to a tangible, solid, building that’s ready-for-occupancy.

The least mysterious phase happens at the end of the process: once a “construction set” of drawings (sometimes called “working drawings” or the “contract set”) has been drawn-up by he architect and issued to the general contractor, the process of construction is fairly well understood. [Although, as anyone who’s ever been involved in building project can tell you, it is also fraught with possible pitfalls, detours, and surprises.]

But perhaps it would be useful to return to the beginning of the process….

ARCHITECTURAL DESIGN: THE PROGRAM

Initially, the architect receives requests and information from the client: the “program”. Sometimes this is nebulously articulated—or conversely, sometimes the client’s needs are enumerated in intimidatingly calibrated detail. Rudolph wrote urgently about the need to get, early on, as much info as possible:

“Always, always, always, everything, everything, everything at the beginning. I'm a great believer in the big bang. You cannot isolate parts, ever. That's the reason why it's so important to know as much detail as possible at the very beginning.”

“I'm just saying that for me it's a matter of getting your fingers on what you can and cannot do from a legal viewpoint . . . . You have to know what's possible. Architecture is not a question of the purely theoretical if you're interested in building buildings. It's the art of what is possible.”

A sketch by Paul Rudolph, in which he’s working out the design of a hallway within Burroughs Wellcome. This sort of drawing shows another aspect of the architect’s working method: the section is sketched adjacent to the plan, and at the same scale (so that both can be well coordinated). At top right one can clearly see part of the plan layout, including rooms and what appear to be laboratory benches. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation.

At Burroughs Wellcome—which functioned as not only a corporate headquarters, but as also an active pharmaceutical research center with extensive laboratories and testing facilitates (where Nobel Prize winning work was conducted!)—Rudolph would have received a careful listing of the functions that the 300,000 square foot building had to accommodate, including the approximate sq. ft. area needed for each. Sometimes programs also indicate significant “adjacencies” (what specific spaces need to be nearby each other).

Just as important (as the above “material” needs) are the intangible ones: what the project means to the client, and what it will communicate. Significance and symbolism: they’re as much part of the program as the list of required rooms. It’s not always easy to determine this, and clients are generally not used to articulating such matters. As Rudolph states, it’s important to find out..

“…what it is the owner truly wants to do— but he doesn't necessarily tell you, you have to read between the lines— and what should be done ideally.”

ARCHITECTURAL DESIGN: THE GRAND SYNTHESIS

It is at this point that the mystery truly begins. The architect creates an overall concept for the building’s organization: the “parti”—and with it will be the architect’s most central decisions about the building’s placement on the site, the organization of the plan, and the shaping of spaces and volumes—along with concepts about which structural system and what materials are to be used.

Looking over the architect’s shoulder—in the process of creation? Here Paul Rudolph is photographed working at his drawing board in his New Haven office, with members of his staff in the background.

How this happens—the very process of creation—is one of the great human questions, whether it be examined in the context of painting, music, literature, or architecture. Some architects refuse even to talk about it, claiming it’s a very intimate matter (and likely, one they don’t even quite understand themselves.) Some are prolix in their explanations, offering either theoretical, meat-and-potatoes, or poetic rationales for what they do. At the other end of the spectrum are “functionalist” architects like Hannes Meyer (who, for several years, was director of the Bauhaus): he claimed that arriving at design solutions was like solving an a mathematical problem, and he offered a stark equation: Function x Economy = Architecture. Rudolph repudiated such such an extreme position, saying:

All I'm really saying is that the most rational architect in the world is not to be trusted at all because there is no such thing as true rationalism when you are speaking of architecture.

Rudolph himself acknowledged the mystery of the phenomena of creation:

“In terms of how one goes about designing anything, you don't really know, or at least I don't know, until after the fact. There are so many elements that come into play that if you wait to figure out what it is you truly want to do once you have a project to work on there won't be enough time. You have to, as I see it, have a reservoir of things that you feel should be done and then you draw on that reservoir and hopefully apply elements from that reservoir in an intelligent fashion. . . . . You can have one hundred reasons why you do things after the fact.”

“I can say that in spite of all the rationalizations that architects go through, including myself, you can pay no attention to what architects say, you can only pay attention to what they do.”

Because architecture must deal with very practical issues—from space needs -to- the structural capacity of steel—the truth about the nature of architectural creation would necessarily be a merging of the functional and the artistic ways of solving problems. Beyond that, the essential nature of the “synthetic leap” is conjectural (though the topic of design creativity has been an area of ongoing serious research.)

ARCHITECTURAL DESIGN: DEVELOPMENT

Burroughs Wellcome allows us to see another aspect of architectural creation: “design development.”

Architects use “development” in a different sense than is used in the real estate field. Architecturally, it means taking the designer’s original conception of the building and working out the particulars.

A section sketch drawing, by Paul Rudolph, showing him in the process of designing the canopy for the main entrance to the Burroughs Wellcome building. A good example of design development, the drawing shows how Rudolph was working out his idea about the shaping of the space and volumes—yet simultaneously thinking through the structure (steel beams and possibly steel joists are shown), scale (his placement of figures), choice of materials, and key dimensions. His use of color, to indicate different materials and planes, is part of the language of architectural drawing which extends back to the 18th century. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation.

For example: it’s not enough that the architect might have started out by envisioning a lobby with cantilevered balconies, supported by a steel structure. In the design development phase, the exact heights, projection, angles, and materials of those balconies would begin to be thought through (including their relationship to the building’s structure.)

Below is Rudolph’s perspective- section rendering through the Burroughs Wellcome building and site:

Paul Rudolph’s perspective-section rendering through Burroughs Wellcome, cutting though the main entry lobby, and showing the building’s relation to the site. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation.

In the middle of it, he shows one of the building’s most famous features— it’s entry lobby:

Enlargement of a portion of Paul Rudolph’s perspective-section through the Burroughs Wellcome building, focusing in on the main entry lobby. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation.

Clearly, he already—even at this stage—has a thorough conception the layout and features of this lobby. In this rendering one can see important features, including: the stepped volumes at the right side of of the second floor’s balcony, the steps and platforms in the foreground and in the distance, the beam crossing from one side of the third floor’s balcony to the other, and the angled columns.

And in the actual, built space—

Burroughs Wellcome’s main entry lobby. Image courtesy of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, photograph by G. E. Kidder Smith

—these aspects of the design were almost exactly carried out.

Enlarging a portion of that section-perspective rendering reveals that Rudolph was already thinking about the structural aspects of the building—and not just the diagonal columns. Below you can see that the section cuts through steel beams—and, allowing for perspective, that steel-work would have framed directly into the diagonal vertical structure.

Close-up of Paul Rudolph’s perspective-section through the Burroughs Wellcome building, here focusing in on the main lobby’s third floor balconies. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

One might imagine that, for an architect of Rudolph’s vast experience, inclusion of such structural elements in a rendering (and placing them in the right locations) would be almost intuitive. Perhaps—so for a clearer example of development, let’s look at what happens when the Burroughs Wellcome building section needs to move in the direction of constructable drawings.

Close-up of Paul Rudolph’s perspective-section rendering of Burroughs Wellcome, focusing on the main body of the building and its entry lobby. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

Above is an enlargement of the main body of the building’s section-perspective. It’s beautiful to look at, and Rudolph’s legendary skill as a perspectivist pulls us in, fascinated by the forms he’s chosen and the rich ways he’s depicted them.

But this is where design development begins: those forms and spaces need to be exactly defined and dimensioned, materials need to be specified, and the relationship of all the parts needs to be coordinated with precision (including with the structural system). Below is the a drawing, from Rudolph’s office, which does this: it’s filled with notes, dimensions, and shows the relationship of the section to adjacent parts of the building which are beyond. This development will then lead to more drawings—which contain even more construction information (including final details)

Section drawing, through main entrance, of the Burroughs Wellcome building. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation.

ARCHITECTURAL DESIGN: CARE IN THE DETAILS

When someone refers to “details,” they are usually peaking of the smallest (or least important) aspects of a project or situation—and the use of the term is often dismissive. But in architecture, the opposite is true: the “details” are intensely important. When architects say “details,” they mean the particular ways that the parts (and assemblies of parts) and materials of a building are selected, shaped, located, and connected together.

Rudolph’s attention to the detail was comprehensive, and even extended to the drainage channels (which he used to form striking angled lines on the building’s exterior), aligning them with the window divisions (“muntins”) and designing a ground-level concrete element (“splash block”) that further carried out the linear theme. Photograph © PJ McDonnell, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation Archives

This can extend to from things that occupants would hardly ever notice (like how waterproofing materials are positioned), to things they directly see and engage with daily (like the design of railings, elevator buttons, and even the choice of typeface for the building address numbers.) These visual elements may, in themselves, be small—-but cumulatively they convey a sense that the building was designed with thoroughness and unflagging attention. It shows that the architect cared, and that each decision (whether it be about the shape of a stair nosing or the tint of the windows) is consistent with an overall vision for the building. [And if such care is not exercised, even a new building can convey a sense of disheartening sloppiness.]

Rudolph cared.

He learned this not only from his teachers, like Gropius (the drawings for whose projects are detailed with surprising care), but also from the beginning of his practice, when he had to become inventive with inexpensive materials in order to work within modest construction budgets. And of course, Mies van der Rohe—one of the titans of Modernism—had a famous saying that all architects knew well: “God is in the details.”

A building’s construction set, which includes drawings of all the details, occupies a large part of an architect’s (and their staff’s) attention. This can mean generating dozens (and for some very complex buildings: hundreds) of drawings. It’s a challenge to maintain the architect’s original “vision” of the building, so that it does not get distorted or diluted in the course of creating the construction documents from which it will be built.

A CASE STUDY: DETAILS AT BURROUGHS WELLCOME

At Burroughs Welcome, we can follow an example of the care which Rudolph and his team brought to the details.

Below-left is reproduced the right side of Rudolph’s perspective-section through Burroughs Wellcome. In it we can see that the edges of the floors typically terminate in a set of continuous architectural elements: a band of angled windows, a band of angled skylights, and a band of angled portions of the exterior wall.

Below-right is an enlargement of the uppermost example of that floor-window-wall-skylight assembly. The architect, in doing the construction drawings, will be concerned about each juncture:

• Where the top of the skylight meets the building (in this case: there’s a small upright, at the end of the floor, at the top of the skylight—possibly forming a rainwater drainage channel.)

• The bottom of the skylight, where it meets the top of the angled wall.

• The bottom of the angled wall, where it meets the top of the angled window.

• The bottom of the window, where it meets the angled skylight of the next floor down.

Left: a portion of Rudolph’s section-perspective, showing the the right side of the building. Above: an enlargement of one of the assemblies at the edge of the uppermost floor. It includes the angled skylight, angled exterior wall, and angled window. Both drawings © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation.

Exactly how each one of these adjacencies (architects’ term for them is: “conditions”) is to be detailed is one of the great challenges of an architect’s practice—especially if they care that the details are consistent with (and supportive of) their original vision for the building.

In working out the details, an architect will not only be conscious of their general concept for the building, but they will simultaneously be focused on a large number of practical questions, such as:

• Can these conditions be made waterproof?

• Is there sufficient thermal insulation?

• Are the proposed materials available?

• Will building this assembly fit within the construction budget?

• Can the proposed arrangement be built by available construction methods?

• Does the proposed design allow for regular maintenance to be performed?

• If something needs replacement(like a window pane), can it be easily repaired?

• Will the materials age well?

And—-

• If any of the above presents a problem, what alternatives can be devised (which will not violate the architect’s overall conception for the building)?

Below is one sheet from the extensive set of construction drawings that Rudolph and his office prepared for the Burroughs Wellcome building—and it shows the very assembly we’ve been considering!

Detail of inclined window and skylight section and construction details, from the set of construction drawings prepared by Paul Rudolph and his office for the Burroughs Wellcome building. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

Below is an enlargement of the right side of that drawing. It goes into great detail about all of the adjacencies (from top-to-bottom: roof to skylight; skylight to wall; wall to window, and window to skylight.) Materials, dimensions, connections, required features, and relationships to other parts of the building are noted with thoroughness.

But even that is not sufficient. To get the building built—in the way the architect envisioned it—even more information needs to be provided to the contractor.

An enlargement of a portion of the above drawing, focusing on the inclined window and skylight. The circled area indicates the areas of the assembly where the glazing meets the building’s walls—and those adjacencies are worked-out in great detail below, in a sheet from the same set set of construction drawings.© The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

The great English architect, Sir Edwin Lutyens, said construction drawings were like “a writing letter to the builder” telling him what to do. For Burroughs Wellcome, even more detail had to be put into Rudolph’s “letter” to the contractor—and within the the area we’ve circled (above) are three conditions that needed to be magnified further, in order to really show how they’re to be built.

Below is the drawing which resulted—another sheet in the construction set. These details are drawn-full size, and show precisely the shapes, configurations, materials, and dimensions of every component—metalwork, structure, glass, waterproofing, drainage channel, glazing gaskets, connectors, and even an anchor for the window washer—needed to make the assembly buildable, and practical for ongoing life of he building.

Inclined window and skylight construction details, from the set of constuction drawings prepared by Paul Rudolph and his office for the Burroughs Wellcome building. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation.

Rudolph himself recognized the challenge of doing thorough construction drawings (including the detailing)—and the consequences if the challenge is not met and the vision is lost:

“Architecture is a personal effort, and the fewer people coming between you and your work the better. … This is a very real problem, and you can only stretch one man so far. The heart can fall right out of a building during the production of working drawings, and sometimes you would not even recognize your own building unless you followed it through.”

All that work, all that thinking, all that time—just to get the details right.

Easy? No. Important? Supremely! Did Rudolph do it? Absolutely!

SAVE BURROUGHS WELLCOME !

Losing Burroughs Wellcome would be a cultural disaster—a titanic loss to our country’s cultural heritage.

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

FOR 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.

Models were also part of Rudolph’s design process. This would be a “presentation model”—shown to the client for their final approval, as well as for the corporate leadership to use to communicate about the project to stakeholders and the public. But “alumni”—former staff members of his office—have also told us that Rudolph also used models to develop his designs. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation.

Burroughs Wellcome was a pharmaceutical company, whose corporate symbol was a unicorn. In Rudolph’s model of the building (at left), he proposed a large unicorn sculpture as part of the main entrance plaza. It did not work out to include that sculpture—so Rudolph developed and distilled the idea. What he came up with (and got built) is a prominent flagpole, angled and pointed to evoke a unicorn’s horn—a brilliant feature and detail.