Paul Rudolph goes to the Dentist (but actually, it's the other-way around!)

Paul Rudolph’s organically curved floor plan for the dental office of Dr. Nathan Shore, in NYC—a work from the mid-1960’s. While Rudolph was known as a master of geometry and form (and their application to architecture, interiors, and furniture), this sinuous approach to planning was one to which he turned only occasionally. This “poche” version of the plan was used as a decorative graphic on the dental office receptionist station’s glass enclosure.

CREATION WITHIN A VARIETY OF SCALES AND TYPES: TRUE MASTERS WILL TAKE-ON ALL CHALLENGES

One of the signs of a master architect-designer is their ability to create interesting work at all scales. English architect Charles Ashbee, the Arts & Crafts era designer, is a strong example: designing everything from a typeface -to-furniture -to- houses -to- the renovation of a war-damaged city. His American contemporary, Bertram Goodhue, worked in a similarly broad range of scales: from his design of a typeface that is still in wide use (“Cheltenham”) -to- his Nebraska State Capitol, a building big enough to be seen from a distance of 20 miles.

Paul Rudolph indicated that he would be willing to take on even humble projects, and said:

“‘It makes no difference to me the size of the project. I’ve always said, ‘I would be happy to make a dog house for you, if you would let me make it a unique and very good dog house.’”

And, in fact, some famous architects have applied their architectural skills to dog house design: Frank Lloyd Wright (who called such a commission “an opportunity” in design), and Philip Johnson.

Young Jim Berger lived in a house designed by Frank Lloyd Wright for the Berger family in San Anselmo—and, at age 12, he asked Wright to design a doghouse for his pet labrador retriever. Wright sent a construction drawing and “Eddie’s House” was built. Here, in 2017, Mr. Berger is seen with a reconstruction of it, which was on display at the Wright-designed Marin County Civic Center.

Philp Johnson’s 1997 design: a “dog house” on the Glass House estate. According to the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s website: “This small structure was created by Johnson as a conceptual project for a classically-inspired tomb. However, when completed the small wooden object turned out to be just the right size for his and [David] Whitney’s new puppies to inhabit. . . .”

To our knowledge, Paul Rudolph never designed a dog house, but—across his half-century career, in which he engaged in hundreds of commissions—he was not above taking-on projects of a less-than-glamourous nature, or for clients with limited budgets.

One of the happy surprises we’ve encountered in the archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation is an article from the Journal of the American Dental Association—and it’s about just such a project: Rudolph’s 1967 design for a dental office for Dr. Nathan Shore.

THE DENTIST GOES TO RUDOLPH

Rudolph’s client, Dr. Nathan Shore, was a dental pioneer in working on TMJ —and wrote this key book on the topic.

Dr. Nathan A. Shore (1914-1984), was a dental specialist and pioneer in correcting a jaw condition called temporomandibular joint syndrome—known more widely as TMJ—-a subject upon which he wrote numerous articles and a book (and for which he devised a test to determine whether the pain was medical or dental in origin.)

In he 1960’s, Dr. Shore asked Paul Rudolph to design his dental offices: they were to be located within a nearly windowless 1,830 square foot space on Central Park South, in the midtown section of Manhattan. Rudolph divided this area into 19 spaces: 

• four dental operatories

• two hygienist operatories

• two con­sultation rooms

• an audiovisual room (for patient education)

• a business office

• a reception room

• a kitchen for staff use

• an X-ray room

• two laboratories

• two washrooms

• all the above spaces connected by a continuous corridor

• all remaining spaces, between the walls of the rooms, were utilized for storage.

Placing all these rooms and functions into the available square footage was an tour-de-force of space-planning efficiency. Although suite corridors were narrow, circular mirrors mounted on walls, and varied ceiling heights created an illusion of space.

Paul Rudolph’s floor plan for the Nathan Shore dental offices—probably the “presentation drawing” which was shown to the client (and/or other parties, such as the building management) to explain the design and obtain their approval. Each space in this quarter-inch scale plan is labeled; overall dimensions of the space are shown; and the entry is indicated by an arrow shown toward the bottom-center of the drawing.

A screen capture from the Museum of Modern Art’s website, showing a 1961 Jason Seley sculpture which is part of their collection: “Masculine Presence”. Like the sculpture that was in the Shore Dental office, this example is made from auto parts—Seley’s most frequent medium.

Furniture, in reception and some internal offices, included chairs by Charles and Ray Eames (from Herman Miller); and by Warren Platner (from Knoll International).

Desk lighting was provided by numerous “Lytegem” lamps (by Lightolier)—then and now, one of the most platonically pure lamp designs, made from a sphere and a cube—a composition strongly appealing to architects committed to the Modern aesthetic [This 1965 design, by Michael Lax, is in the collection of MoMA.]

The reception area contains a sculpture made of automobile hubcaps. It is by Jason Seley, a artist known for creating artworks from chromium steel automobile body parts.

The constructed design received coverage—perhaps the only article about it—in a 1971 issue of The Journal of the American Dental Association. The article, "Functional Design based on Pattern of Work in a Dental Suite", spoke of Rudolph’s design approach to meet the challenges involved in such a project, and included a description of the results, photos, and a floor plan. The article’s author, Eileen Farrell, had been an editorial supervisor at the American Dental Association, and some of her observations included:

"Dentistry in the round is one way to describe the unique dental suite designed for Dr. Nathan Allen Shore by architect Paul Rudolph of Yale. . . .The circular motif is repeated in various ways that add to the total effect. Lighting in the operatories, for instance, is diffused from a circular well in the ceiling across which the dental light slides on a track integrated with the ceiling diffusor. A curved Plexiglass screen divides the business office from the recep­tion room, making each space seem larger. A circular rendition of aspects of the temporomandibular joint decorates the door leading to the operatories.”

"Besides creating an illusion of space, the design aims at quiet and a sense of privacy. To this end, circulation of pa­tients and staff is kept to a minimum, and although there are eight staff members and a steady stream of patients, the suite never seems to be crowded. One reason is that the movement of traffic is in the round rather than back and forth. . . .When a patient arrives for his appointment, the secretary opens the door by remote control and admits him to the recep­tion area."

"Doctor Shore finds that his staff is happy in the well-designed quarters. . . .Functional design, he says, seems well suited to a most progressive profession."

Above are small screen-captures of the pages of the article about the Rudolph-designed Nathan Shore dental office. At the lower-right is a slightly enlarged portion of one page, showing the reception area—and, at its right side, one can see that the suite’s floor plan has been incorporated into the reception desk’s window, as an intriguing ornamental pattern. The full article can be accessed through the JADA website, here.

RUDOLPH AND CURVILNEAR DESIGN

The work of Paul Rudolph presents difficulties for historians—at least for the ones who are uncomfortable with the great range of forms in his designs, and the multiple approaches Rudolph used when answering hundreds of architectural challenges. Attempts to pigeonhole a great creative force like Rudolph are doomed to futility—but some observations on his formal vocabulary are worthwhile, like our analysis of his use of crystalline shapes at Burroughs Wellcome.

But what about Rudolph’s use of curved forms? Rudolph could hardly be said to be afraid of curves: they show-up early in his practice: most notably in the Healy “Cocoon” house of 1950. But projects where “free form” or “biomorphic” curvilinear elements and planning dominate are not all-that-frequent in his career. Some notable exceptions are his sculptural handling of concrete in his Temple Street Parking Garage and the forms and spaces of the Boston Government Service Center. But even in Rudolph’s Endo Laboratories—one of his finest projects from the beginning of the 1960’s, which is well-known for its curved elements—or his Daiei Headquarters Building in Japan, most of the curves are carefully controlled portions of circles or ellipses. Thus when we do encounter designs in which Rudolph uses free and energetic organic lines (as in Dr. Shore’s offices), there is good reason to give such projects extra focus—and even to celebrate this branch of Rudolph’s creativity.

In the spirit of our start of this article—pointing-out that design masters can productively focus on projects of all scales—we end with an example at the smaller end of the range of objects which Paul Rudolph designed: a desk for Endo Laboratories. Thoughtfully designed for efficient function, and carefully drawn, detailed and specified (as the drawing shows)—it also fully embraces “free form” curvilinear design.

An “executive desk”, designed by Paul Rudolph for the offices of Endo Laboratories, his 1960 project in Garden City.

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:

Floor plans of the Nathan A. Shore dental office (both “poche” and linework versions), and the drawing of the desk for Endo Laboratories: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Frank Lloyd Wright-designed doghouse: photo courtesy of Marin County Civic Center, as shown on the city’s website; Philip Johnson-designed doghouse: photo by and courtesy of Sean Sheer of Urban Dog; Jason Seley sculpture, within the collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York City: screen capture from a portion of the MoMA web page devoted to that sculpture; JADA article on the Nathan A. Shore dental office: screen captures from the 1971 issue, Volume 83, Issue 1; Cover of Dr. Shore’s book: from the Amazon page devoted to that book.

It's not easy being "Green" — If you tear-down a Landmark

Meet Martine Rothblatt, CEO of United Therapeutics. She owns Rudolph’s Kerr Residence in Florida & should be a fan. After promising to preserve it, her company tore down the only Rudolph in NC – the Burroughs Wellcome building in RTP. Now she’s going to lecture on Green Construction…

Burroughs Wellcome was recognized as landmark-worthy in a HABS report by the National Park Service. We fought, along with other organizations, to save the building & thousands of you signed a petition to stop the demolition. But what did Martine do? She sent her PR team to ask us to take down parts of our website that referred to the petition and demolition…

She cares about ‘green construction, including the world’s largest zero carbon building & laboratories, office buildings & residences.’ Zero carbon is not ‘green’ when you send 546,335 cubic feet of construction & 3,100 tons of steel to the dump to make way for your new project…

#Greenbuild invited her to give a keynote at tomorrow’s Global Health & Wellness Summit on Sept 9, 2021. According to https://informaconnect.com/greenbuild/summits/ the summit will ‘discuss how spaces are being redefined amid the ongoing climate crisis’ but does Martine’s solution make the problem worse in order to ‘fix’ it? The greenest building is the one that already exists…

PLEASE SHARE & IF YOU’RE GOING TO ATTEND ask WHY she tore down a Paul Rudolph landmark. Ask if the millions of $$ a year she makes as CEO of the company is the GREEN they mean in ‘Green Construction.’ More about the building is on our website (which Martine’s PR team doesn’t want you to see) at www.bit.ly/rudolphdemo

#PaulRudolph #greenbuild #greenbuilding #greenconstruction #RTP #architecture #brutalism #climate #wellbeing #UnitedTherapeutics @WELLcertified @USGBC @rickfedrizzi @docomomous @WorldGBC @ArchitectsJrnal @AIANational @archpaper @ArchRecord @usmodernist @preservationaction @bwfund @presnc @preservationdurham @c20society @brutalism_appreciation_society @sosbrutalism @ncarchitecture @savingplaces @modarchitecture

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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:

Photograph of Martine Rothblatt: Andre Chung, via Wikimedia Commons; Photograph of the Burroughs Wellcome building, in the process of demolition: detail of a photograph by news photojournalist Robert Willett, as they appeared in a January 12, 2021 on-line article in the Raleigh, NC based newspaper The News & Observer; Logo of the Global Health & Wellness Summit: from the web page devoted to the event.

We need to fight harder to protect the future of our past

FROM AN EXAMPLE OF CORPORATE PRIDE AND CUTTING EDGE RESEARCH—

—TO DEMOLITION BY NEGLECT AND MISINFORMATION.

The Burroughs Wellcome Building is no more.

• One of America’s most forward-looking buildings, an icon of design, and -

• the site of Nobel Prize-winning and life-saving research, and -

• a research center designed for growth - a feature so appreciated by the client that they brought the architect back (three times!) to expand the building, and -

• a building made, inside and out, to inspire and foster innovation, and -

• a design so striking that it was used as sets for film and television, and -

• a landmark of its region and state, and -

• one of architect Paul Rudolph’s largest creations -

—is gone.

Modern architecture is part of America’s cultural legacy - and buildings designed by Paul Rudolph are among some of the best examples of the our architectural achievements: Rudolph’s architecture simultaneously displays practical innovation, creative exuberance, spatial richness, and symbolic depth.

Built as Burroughs Wellcome’s US headquarters and research center (and a prominent landmark within North Carolina’s Research Triangle Park), the building was praised by the company leadership which commissioned it:

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

and was hailed by:

• architectural historians

• architectural critics

• heritage preservation organizations

• and—most meaningfully, by the people who worked there:

“. . . .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]. . . 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.”

United Therapeutics - the current owner of the site - had asserted that a significant portion of the building would be restored and reused, but - despite Burroughs Wellcome’s important history and innovative design - they decided to demolish the structure without discussion. So little discussion, that local preservation groups we reached out to about the demolition permit thought it must be for an anticipated asbestos abatement. Wholesale demolition was not considered a possibility.

When supporters learned of its impending demolition, there was enough people trying to see it that security had to push an existing fence farther from it to hide the destruction from the public. People we spoke to who tried to photograph the building were threatened by security guards with trespassing and had photos deleted from their cameras.

PROTECTING THE FUTURE OF THE PAST

Burroughs Wellcome, a significant work of architecture, is now permanently, irretrievably lost. This puts a spotlight on the need to protect America’s cultural heritage—and that includes this country’s great buildings.

The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation and other organizations are engaged in that fight to preserve our past.

The destruction of Burroughs Wellcome led the United States chapter of the international preservation organization Docomomo to create The Advocacy Fund:

As part of our #ModernLove campaign, and in response to the recent demolition of Burroughs Wellcome, Docomomo US is announcing the creation of a new initiative: The Advocacy Fund. Gifts to this new initiative will go directly to critical advocacy efforts and will support local and national work.

Modern Love means many things to us: it means celebrating iconic sites like the Ford Foundation Center for Social Justice that received a 2020 Modernism in America Award of Excellence; it means fighting for significant sites like the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden; and it means avoiding the loss of significant buildings like Burroughs Wellcome designed by Paul Rudolph that was demolished earlier this year because it lacked appropriate preservation protections.

With your support, Docomomo US can provide assistance to local advocates and campaigns, participate in local and national preservation review meetings including the Section 106 process, and continue to speak out on the issues that concern you the most.

If the loss of the Burroughs Wellcome building makes you angry, please consider donating to the Advocacy Fund. All gifts up to $10,000 will be matched by the Docomomo US Board of Directors!

Buildings by Rudolph—among the world’s most significant works of Modern architecture—are continually threatened with demolition or abuse. Vigilance and advocacy is needed.

We are committed to urging, advising, and campaigning for the preservation (and proper care) of PAUL RUDOLPH’s architectural legacy.

Please give to the Advocacy Fund to preserve the richness of Paul Rudolph’s contributions—and to show:

Demolition is never the answer.

FROM AN ICON OF AMERICAN DESIGN —

— TO DEMOLITION DEBRIS.

And if you see something going on at a Rudolph site—that a building may be threatened, or is not maintained, or is about to be marred by an insensitive ‘update’ - please let us know (we’re easy to contact.)

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IMAGE CREDITS:

Top photograph of the Burroughs Wellcome Building: image courtesy of the Joseph W. Molitor architectural photographs collection, located in Columbia University, Avery Architectural & Fine Arts Library, Department of Drawings & Archives; Photographs of the Burroughs Wellcome building, in the process of demolition: photography by news photojournalist Robert Willett, as they appeared in a January 12, 2021 on-line article in the Raleigh, NC based newspaper The News & Observer; Perspective-section drawing, by Paul Rudolph, through the main body of the Burroughs Wellcome building: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

Adding To Our Knowledge of Paul Rudolph: his 1994 interview with Zak Ghanim

Paul Rudolph (left) with Zak Ghanim (right) during the 1994 interview at Rudolph’s Beekman Place home-office in NYC.

THE HISTORICAL MISSION

The mission of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation is to spread knowledge about the profound legacy of Paul Rudolph, and to preserve the work of this great and internationally-important 20th century architect - and we do accomplish this in many ways, including:

• Education

• Advocating for preservation

• Actively engaging with the scholars, students, and journalists

• Publications

• Encouraging the proper care and stewardship of Rudolph-designed buildings

And— some of our most rewarding activities involve historical research. Rudolph, across a half-century career (and hundreds of projects), created an enormous body of work. Moreover he was involved in a variety of other activities (education, writing, travel, research, entrepreneurship…). While Rudolph left a large body of documents, and several important books have been written about him, we still find that that numerous questions emerge—and the mysteries are compounded by gaps in the records. So we become detectives (which is part of a historian’s role): seeking out clues that lead to further insights and facts about Paul Rudolph. When we find another a new facet of Rudolph’s work and thought (another “piece of the puzzle”), we’re thrilled.

That is why we were happy to discover an interview with him, one which we were not aware of until recently. It was conducted in 1994 (a few years before Rudolph’s passing in 1997), at Paul Rudolph’s “Quadruplex” residence-office on Beekman Place in New York City.

At the time of the interview, Paul Rudolph was still very active, with several projects underway (especially in Asia)—but, at age 78, he also had a long-view perspective on his life and career, and ZAK GHANIM, the interviewer, was able to elicit some fascinating comments from Rudolph. The fact that Mr. Ghanim is an architect, with an active practice of his own, no doubt enhanced his ability to question Rudolph with the insight of a fellow professional.

Architect Zak Ghanim—who conducted this insightful interview with Rudolph.

THE INTERVIEWER: ARCHITECT ZAK GHANIM

Zak Ghanim is an award-winning architect, urban planner, interior designer, illustrator, writer, lecturer, editor and journalist. He was born in Egypt and received his degree in Architecture from Alexandria University. His office is based in Toronto, and he has produced over 1,000 international projects---including in the domains of commercial, hospitality, religious, retail, and residential design, as well as community centers and factories.

He has received awards from a variety of distinguished organizations—and his projects have appeared on the covers of numerous publications, and featured in international newspapers, periodicals and books—as well as having been in exhibitions and featured on television shows and primetime news.

Mr. Ghanim is in the process of publishing two books: New Visions on Architecture (which will include this interview with Paul Rudolph), and Travel Photography: a collection of architectural and artistic images photographed by him in over 5 continents. The full text of his books—as well as his comprehensive design portfolio—can be found on Mr. Ghanim’s website, which you can see here.

We are grateful to Zak Ghanim for giving us permission to share his interview with Rudolph, and to include it as part of our documentary archive.

GHANIM ON ARCHITECTURE aND INTERVIEWS

In the introduction to his book of interviews of architects, New Visions on Architecture, Mr. Ghanim offers some insights on his interest in architecture and intentions for the interviews—and here are several excerpts:

“Since my early undergraduate years, I have been fascinated with the work of the masters of architecture. I have tried to comprehend how they evolved their ideas and opinions, where they drew all that creativity from, and how can an ambitious young designer be a part of that process.”

“Frank Lloyd Wright, Le Corbusier and Mies van der Rohe had all made their marks in the early 20th Century, but now their disciples must come forth and develop their own styles. It is time for the new generation to stand on a higher plateau. Our needs have altered and our understanding of nature's role in architecture has been redefined. As lifestyles, change so do values, both artistically and socially.”

“As we come to the dawn of a new century, I wanted to present the words of these leaders to everyone who is interested in art and architecture, so that they can understand where the future of architecture is taking us. It has become more evident that the ordinary person on the street is concerned and intrigued with the role of architects. I feel by committing their words to paper, many can gain an insight into their creativity and understand the discipline and aspiration that it takes to become a pioneer in a specific domain.”

EXCERPTS FROM THE INTERVIEW

The interview covers many aspects of Paul Rudolph’s life and career, and below are several examples of Zak Ghanim’s questions and Rudolph’s responses:

ZAK GHANIM:  YOUR FATHER WAS A METHODIST MINISTER, DID THIS HAVE AN EFFECT ON YOUR ARCHITECTURE AS BEING CONSERVATIVE, PRAGMATIC OR DISCIPLINED?

PAUL RUDOLPH:  Most definitely. When I was six years old, my father built a church and of course an Architect was involved. When I saw his drawings and models, I knew instantly it was for me, and I have never changed my mind.

Z.G.  SO, YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO BE AN ARCHITECT?

P.R.  I had no choice, I was very lucky. If someone asked me should he/she be an architect, I would say, you cannot teach people to be talented, you cannot teach people to design by showing what others have done, you can only clarify principles, but you cannot really teach youth to be designers. I have always been able to draw easily, since I was a child, and still do.

* * *

Z.G.  WHAT KIND OF EXPERIENCE DID YOU GAIN FROM THE BROOKLYN NAVY?

P.R.  Apparently, you did some homework. They thought they could make a Naval Architect out of me, in four months, by sending me to M.I.T. for a ridiculous course. I found myself in charge of 300 people making repairs to destroyers in the Brooklyn Naval Yard. That was some fantastic experience. I saw how a very large organization went about dividing its work. Trying to utilize talents of a person was of the utmost importance, I could understand drawings while other people could not, and I began to understand the relationship between the administration and the people who were building, so I really had a fantastic job.

* * *

Z.G.  BACK IN 1954, YOU WERE AWARDED THE TITLE OF "OUTSTANDING YOUNG ARCHITECT" AT THE INTERNATIONAL COMPETITION HELD IN SAO PAULO IN BRAZIL, THAT MUST HAD A THRILL FOR YOU AT YOUR EARLY STAGE OF YOUR PROFESSION.

P.R.  Not only was it a thrill, it helped me financially.

Z.G.  WHAT WAS THE BASIS OF YOUR SELECTION?

P.R.  I entered that completion with the design of the Walker guest house that was built in Sanibel Island, Florida back in 1953. It was a 24 by 24 foot wooden house. It had three 8 by 8 foot bays. One of glass, the other two clad with solid panels. There was an arcade around the outside of the house to support the panels. These panels changed the interior space from a cozy room, in terms of closure and light, to a wide-open pavilion.

* * *

Z.G.  IN YOUR EARLY CAREER, YOU SPENT SOME TIME IN EUROPE, THROUGH A SCHOLARSHIP. WHAT KIND OF IMPACT DID THIS HAVE ON YOU?

P.R.  The United States was built in the nineteenth century, and has never been strong in terms of Urbanism. The U.S. is essentially based on eclecticism, where Europe is the exact opposite. The strength of Urbanism in Europe to this day is fantastic. You could not believe the effect which European Cities had on me. I began to understand that architecture is about Urbanism, that the small must be related to the large and vice versa, that you cannot ignore the environment. I began to understand the importance of the relationship between the vehicular architecture and the so-called high style architecture, the importance of building types, the relationship of transportation of all kinds to the city. I understood that the chariot entrance to the Acropolis was formed absolutely beautifully in relationship to the pedestrian entrance. Until today, we have not learned how to relate our automobile, which is our chariot, to the vehicular system in this country. We build the ugliest cities in the world and this is so painful, because I do not think it has to be that way.

* * *

Z.G.  BUT YOU STUDIED UNDER GROPIUS WHO BELIEVED IN COLLABORATION IN DESIGN.

P.R.  I do not work with other designers, but I do believe in that concept, because for many people it may be the only way they can work. Gropius himself would be the first one to say there are many ways for teamwork; it's a question of what you mean by teamwork. If there is a team of architectural designers, goodbye, but if the architect teams up with a structural engineer, a mechanical engineer, an acoustical engineer, an electrical engineer, a geographer, an economist and so on, but not five architectural designers. You see, Gropius believed that through discussions, one could reach a clarification and a higher level of understanding, but then I say if that is true, I believe it depends on who you are discussing things with. It is a very complicated issue. I make no bones about what I do, I know what I do well and what I don't do well. I just want to be used in a good way, that's all.

* * *

Z.G.  I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU WERE NOT HAPPY WITH THE FINAL LOOK OF THE MARY COOPER JEWETT ARTS CENTRE FOR WELLESLEY COLLEGE, WELLESLEY, MASSACHUSETTS BACK IN 1955. WHY IS THAT?

P.R.  In the U.S. architects tend to think that the nineteenth century has spilled over into the twentieth century, and that one should build only twentieth century architecture. I am very proud that this building was part of the very beautiful campus, and one had to say it was built in this century. That was the basic notion. In other words, I am talking about urbanism, which I did not really learn in school. I am a great believer that education is based on many things. In any event the idea of adding a 20th century building to a Gothic campus created a form of space, kind of Acropolis, looking down south to the lake. If I were to have the same commission today, I would do it the same way, in principle. The thing I feel inferior about the building, has to do with the interior space, which was not developed exactly the way I wanted. Regardless, in my opinion, Wellesley College was one of the first buildings that tried to marry the new and the old United States.

* * *

Z.G.  WHAT DID YOU CONTRIBUTE AS A CHAIRMAN OF YALE SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE?

P.R.  I do not know if I made any contribution. I patterned my eight years there very much after Gropius, not stylistically but in principle. What Gropius basically said, was that architecture, in the real sense of the word, is a means by which people express their aspiration. In that sense, we really are servants to society. I genuinely believe that things are constantly changing, and that is based on the series of principals that we started speaking of. I tried to teach that architectural space is what determines, any project whether religious, governmental or housing, and that scale is of the utmost importance, especially in terms of Urbanism.

* * *

Z.G.  I WOULD LIKE TO HEAR YOUR OPINION ABOUT THE LATEST TRENDS IN ARCHITECTURE; POST- MODERNISM, DECONSTRUCTION....

P.R.  The only thing I like about Post-Modernism is its light interest in urbanism, but it is far too nostalgic and stylish. If you had a bunch of Cape Cod cottages, according to Post-Modernism, the only thing to do is to build more cape cod cottage. I don't believe in this, I am totally against Post- Modernism, as conceptually seen, other than what little it has to say about urbanism. Modernism does not have all the answers, I do not think it does, but it tends to address this century's problems, and has within its concepts a great many possible solutions.

* * *

Z.G.  HOW DO YOU LIKE THE AT&T BUILDING?

P.R.  No comment.

* * *

Z.G.  FOR THE PAST EIGHTEEN YEARS YOU HAVE BEEN DEALING WITH DIFFERENT INTERNATIONAL PROJECTS. WHAT KIND OF EXPERIENCE DID YOU OBTAIN FROM SUCH INVOLVEMENT?

P.R.  I have been working mostly in South East Asia, and I have found that very rewarding on many levels. The attitudes are very different from the United States. It is also the idea that the labor is still relatively very inexpensive, and what I want to do is very labor intensive. The Pacific Rim is in its most important stage economically, but artistically it is not very clearly defined yet. I think it will be soon.

* * *

Z.G.  HOW DO YOU VISUALISE THE FUTURE OF CONTEMPORARY ARCHITECTURE? ARE WE GOING IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION?

P.R.  First of all, do you see that each new trend cancels out the other, and leaves you with nothing. I really, honestly believe in movements that add to urbanism or add some dimensions to human life. Then I am for it, but if I do not see that, then I am against it. I feel sad about things right now, but I also feel very hopeful. Many false paths have been perceived, and I believe the problems that one sees everywhere will not go away. Architects right now, as I see, tend to solve or address themselves to problems which are fine in terms of magazines, but have nothing to do with human needs or aspirations.

* * *

Z.G.  YOU PRODUCED SOME OF THE MOST METICULOUS AND ORDERLY DETAILED BLACK AND WHITE COLLECTION OF PERSPECTIVES. HOW MUCH WERE YOU PERSONALLY INVOLVED IN THE PRODUCING OF THOSE RENDERINGS?

P.R.  When I was very young, I personally drew every line. In many ways those are the only drawings which I like. Then I became very busy, and what I would do perspective and almost everything in pencil, then I had staff to fill in certain passages. But when it came a matter of gradation, I would always do that, and when it was a matter of hatching, someone else could do that. So I always had some assistance.

* * *

Z.G.  WHAT IS ON THE DRAFTING BOARD NOW?

P.R.  I am still working in South East Asia and Hong Kong. I don't know why, but I have a bunch of projects I'm working on, a total of six private homes and a small office building in Indonesia. An office building in Singapore, also I'm working on a town in Indonesia.

Z.G.  HOW ABOUT THE US?

P.R.  One house!

THE COMPLETE INTERVIEW

The complete text of Zak Ghanim’s interview with Paul Rudolph can be found at the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation’s ARTICLES & WRITINGS page (which has a large collection of written resources on and by Rudolph)—and a direct link to the full interview is here.

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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:

Photos of Zak Ghanim interviewing Paul Rudolph: courtesy of Mr. Zak Ghanim; Photo of Zak Ghanim: courtesy of Mr. Zak Ghanim.

Henry-Russell Hitchcock — ”The Dean of American Architectural Historians" — on Paul Rudolph

The chancery building on Grosvenor Square—a design by Eero Saarinen—was the home of the US embassy in the UK until 2017. This building—which, when it opened in 1960, was a strikingly Modern presence within a traditionally-designed city—was the likely venue for the exhibit on Paul Rudolph which took place in London in the 1960’s.

RUDOLPH’S REPUTATION: INTERNATIONAL

The United States Information Service was an agency under the United States State Department [it was later renamed, and better known as, the United States Information Agency]. Most well-known for their broadcasting efforts (such as the Voice of America, Radio Free Europe, and Radio Liberty), the agency also engaged in a number of other informational and cultural projects, such as setting up libraries of American books in other countries, English language instruction, and exhibitions. Their stated mission was ". . . .to understand, inform and influence foreign publics in promotion of the national interest, and to broaden the dialogue between Americans and U.S. institutions, and their counterparts abroad."

Among the exhibits that the USIS sponsored was one on the work of Paul Rudolph, which was held in the mid-1960's in London. The location would likely have been the American Embassy Chancery Building, which opened in 1960—and was designed by another famous mid-twentieth century Modern architect, Eero Saarinen.

Henry-Russell Hitchcock (1903-1987) was a distinguished and architectural historian—and an advocate for Modern architecture—and the writer of a fascinating text about Paul Rudolph.

HENRY-RUSSELL HITCHCOCK: “DEAN” OF AMERICN ARCHITECTURAL HISTORIANS

The archives of Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation has a copy of a flyer which was given to visitors who attended that Rudolph exhibit. To our surprise, we find that it was written by Henry-Russell Hitchcock (1903-1987).

Hitchcock was a formidable figure in architectural history—not only as a writer, but also as a teacher, lecturer, and exhibit organizer. His books and articles covered a great range of periods, styles, regions and architects (including one of the first major monographs on Wright). While he is known for his many scholarly historical works, his most famous (and probably most influential) publication was the book The International Style, which was researched and written with Philip Johnson and published in 1932. That book, published by the Museum of Modern Art, (in association with MoMA’s exhibit, “Modern Architecture: International Exhibition”) proclaimed and explained the new mode in architecture to an American audience.

To have an historian of this level of distinction and accomplishment be associated with Rudolph---and writing in such a direct, ‘pull-no-punches’ style---makes this a document of significance.

HITCHCOCK ON PAUL RUDOLPH

Below are excerpts from from the text that was given to visitors to the exhibit.

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P A U L   R U D O L P H

An exhibition of his architecture 

Presented by the United States Information Service

It is not easy to present the architecture of Paul Rudolph to the British. He belongs to a line or group of American modern architects who have never received in England with much enthusiasm. . . .

The characteristic common to Wright, to Saarinen and to Rudolph can be most simply described as brashness, with all the connotations, many of them in England unfavourable, that brashness, implies. Wright and Rudolph, thought not so much Saarinen, have been notable for their brash statements, which often seem to manifest a somewhat juvenile delight in shacking and even offending. In Wright’s case this sort of juvenility was, certainly increased over the years of his 70-year-long public careers, as those who heard him speak on his visit to London a decade or more ago will well remember. But it is, of course, to the brashness of the architecture of these men that I more particularly refer. Brash architecture has not been unknown in Britain. . . . But it is out of favour today in architectural circles, if not in popular music and “pop art”, the very name of which was invented by an English critic before he moved to America.

The early work of Rudolph, the houses built in the late 1940’s and early 50’s in and around Sarasota, Florida, in association with the local well-established architect Ralph Twitchell, were not only calm and disciplined in their design, which was definitely by Rudolph and not by Twitchell. If they are far less American than, for example, Saarinen’s General Motors Technical Institute in Michigan or Johnson’s houses in Connecticut of these years, they none-the-less have a severity of outline and a stripped frankness of structural expression that contrasts somewhat with the Wrightian openness of the planning and their adaptation, visually and functionally, to the flat coastal scenery of the Keys, along the Gulf of Mexico with their damp climate and their exposures to such serious local plagues as insect hordes and annual hurricanes.

“He is, above all, in his failures and even more than in his successes, in his parking garages and his pharmaceutical plants as much as in his representational art buildings, an artist in architecture, concerned to dispose his spaces, to model his masses, to choose and treat his materials, as great architects have always done, in such a way as to achieve compositions, works of art, that are only possible to architectural scale. ”

— Hitchcock on Rudolph

Rudolph’s apprentice years beginning after his war-time service in the Navy, though less confined to a single line-than Wright’s with his “Lieber Meister” Sullivan, of Saarinen in the process of freeing himself from his father by a rather literal acceptance of the American discipline, were even more single-minded and self-consistent. But he was, of course, older than Wright had been in his eclectic period in the 1890’s and had no Oedipal problem such as Saarinen’s. 

Brash architects are to some extent gamblers: the sure fling soon ceases to interest them, so they must always be trying a more difficult throw of the dice or combination of the horses. But like professional gamblers, if the architects in question are trained and experienced professionals and not amateurs, the proportion and the size of their wins increases until the artistic profit overshadows the more comfortable earnings of the ploddingly respectable.  (It should be noted, however, that this may well apply in reverse to their respective financial rewards!) In Eero Saarinen’s case almost every new try was happily a success in his last years and all different from one another. The Yale Colleges, the Dulles Airport and the Deere Plow offices certainly more than offset the very debatable TWA building at the Kennedy Airport.

The Married Students Quarters, piled up in cubes like the towns on islands in the Aegean, has been especially influential with Yale students. To English critics it has usually, however, been offensive, because the brickwork is not “honestly” structural, but a mere veneer over wooden construction providing in a long-familiar American vernacular way a permanent weatherproof sheathing as tile-hanging frequently does in England. The parking-garage is one of the most successful of innumerable attempts since Mendelsohn’s Einstein Tower of 40 years ago to exploit concrete—in this case left raw—as a plastic or sculptural material in contrast to the more usual American expression as rectangular post-and-lintel construction.

The Art and Architecture Building, to judge from the latest to be completed of Rudolph’s buildings, that for the Endo Pharmaceutical Company at Garden City outside New York, and the project for the very large administrative building for the State of Massachusetts, occupying a considerable area adjacent to the new governmental centre in Boston (in association with the long-established local firm of Shepley, Richardson, Bulfinch and Abbott, professional heirs an actual descendants of H. H. Richardson) suggests that the gambler has, indeed, found the formula that assures a high proportion of wins, that the wheel has come a full circle, now that the modest beginner who designed the Sarasota houses has reached full maturity and can profit from all the varied experiments he has had along the road.

He is, above all, in his failures and even more than in his successes, in his parking garages and his pharmaceutical plants as much as in his representational art buildings, an artist in architecture, concerned to dispose his spaces, to model his masses, to choose and treat his materials, as great architects have always done, in such a way as to achieve compositions, works of art, that are only possible to architectural scale. 

No painter, as Le Corbusier has been throughout his career, no sculptor as Saarinen was before he turned to architecture, no theorist like Gropius though an active educator, he is one of several Americans who are attempting to prove, who on occasion in the last few years have proved, to most of those who were not prejudiced by a priori pseudo-historical considerations, that architecture can still be an art as well as technological process for solving problems of shelter.

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THE COMPLETE HITCHCOCK TEXT

The full text of Henry-Russell Hitchcock’s exhibition essay can be found at the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation’s ARTICLES & WRITINGS page (which has a large collection of written resources on and by Rudolph)—and a direct link to the Hitchcock text is here.

Hitchcock himself is well worth study, and—though a full biography has yet to be published—Helen Searing has written insightful essays on him, particularly “Henry-Russell Hitchcock: The Architectural Historian as Critic and Connoisseur.” She has also edited a tribute volume to him, and contributed to an anthology of papers which focuses on the work of Hitchcock and his almost exact contemporary: architectural historian John Summerson of Britain.

ABOVE: a tribute volume to Hitchcock, which has essays that are about him. or which resonate with topics in which he was interested. It can be read, on-line, here. LEFT: an anthology of papers on Hitchcock and John Summerson—a contemporary (and equally distinguished) architectural historian from Britain. It can be read, on-line, here.

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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:

Former American Embassy Building, in London: photo by Ian S, via Wikimedia Commons; United States Information Service Emblem: US government graphic, courtesy of the National Museum of Diplomacy, US State Department; Henry-Russell Hitchcock, vintage profile photo: circa 1930’s, via the Archives of American Art; Cover of “Summerson and Hitchcock”: from the Amazon page for that book; Cover of “In Search of Modern Architecture": from the Amazon page for that book.

Rudolph's BOSTON GOVERNMENT SERVICE CENTER: it's fate moves to a new phase

PAUL RUDOLPH’S BOSTON GOVERNMENT SERVICE CENTER: PAST, PRESENT—AND A POSSIBLE FUTURE

The cover of the recently issued OFFEREING MEMORANDUM: an extensive booklet which gives an overview of the Boston Government Service Center’s HURLEY BUILDING site as a development opportunity.

The BGSC — the BOSTON GOVERNMENT SERVICE CENTER — is Paul Rudolph’s large, civic building in Boston—and one of the largest projects in his long and prolific career. The building—really, several buildings in one—is a composition of plazas, interiors, offices, public spaces, forms, textures, and seating, was designed to serve many functions. It contains facilities for education, health (including mental health), welfare, unemployment, parking, and other state government offices.

The HURLEY BUILDING is a large part of this complex. Paul Rudolph’s aerial view of the complex, as he originally envisioned it, is at the top of this article—and the oval encloses the Hurley Building section. At right is an aerial photo of the complex—and Hurley is the building at the lower center with the white roof.

The HURLEY BUILDING is under threat—and the following is an update on the developing situation.

THE PLAN UNFOLDS…

In 2019, Boston Globe reporter John Chesto reported:

“The [Massachusetts state government] administration. . . .unveiled plans to redevelop the state-owned Charles F. Hurley Building, at the edge of the old West End and Government Center, to open up a prime 3.25-acre site on the corner of Staniford and Cambridge streets. The deal could, at a minimum, fetch the state tens of millions of dollars.

“The state would issue a ground lease to a development partner that would oversee the design, planning, and construction of a new office complex, with the likelihood of new ground-floor retail and restaurant spaces as well. The administration said it expects to identify a redeveloper within the next 18 to 24 months after putting the project out to bid.’

STUDIES, MEETINGS, TESTIMONY—AND MAYBE MOVEMENT:

The threat to the building—a strong implication of the above announcement—got the full attention of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation, as well as Boston/Massachusetts-area preservation organizations and a series of “stakeholder” meetings were held to learn about the project and get input. Studies were commissioned by the state (and made available for review), and further input/pushback was given. The opinions of state agencies were also part of the discourse.

At the end of this, we did learn of one positive development, from a report the state issued last February. It said that the state:

”. . . .intends to express a preference. . . .for redevelopment schemes that pursue adaptive reuse of the existing building – that is, schemes that retain some or all of the existing building. . . .”

It seemed that activism had moved the state to a more positive, adaptive reuse preference—one which we and others had been advocating. But we also pointed-out the elastic nature of the language used in the state’s report, with no clear and strong commitment to actually acting on the recommendations of those focused on the preservation of our cultural-historical heritage.

The OFFERING MEMORANDUM’s Executive Summary uses impressive photographs of the Hurley Building.

THE LATEST DEVELOPMENT

The state is moving ahead with the project. They’ve now issued an “OFFERING MEMORANDUM”—-a 60 page booklet on the development potential of the site. It’s an invitation to developers to engage in this “EXCEPTIONAL PARTNERSHIP OPPORTUNITY” and “PREMIERE DEVELOPENT OPPORTUNITY”.

The booklet offers statistics and facts about the neighborhood & region (highlighting the nearby concentration of medically-oriented companies and institutions, showing local transportation facilities, sharing economic and demographic factors, identifying major employers in the area, showing plans and data for the existing building and site, and defining parameters & goals of the project—-and it uses some of the best photographs of the building we’ve seen in a long time.

The OFFERING MEMORANDUM is a model of how to make a project attractive, and it is worth studying for the way it piles-up evidence that this is a prime opportunity for a developer.

For Example: Below are two spreads from the booklet highlighting the site:

Key players at the creation of the Boston Government Service Center. In the foreground is a model of the complex, with the Hurley Building closest to the front of the picture (the model also includes the unbuilt office tower.) In the background are architectural drawings of the complex: an elevation and numerous floor plans. Among the people assembled for the photo are Edward Logue and Paul Rudolph (who is standing at far right.)

WHAT’S IN THERE—

The state’s goals are explicit:

'“[The state] is seeking to establish a long-term ground lease with a development partner. . . .for the redevelopment of the Hurley Building. It has identified three primary goals for the project:

• Cost-effectively address capital renewal needs of an outdated state asset

• Consolidate state office space into assets under long-term control

• Transform an imposing “super-block” into a pedestrian-friendly, 24/7 neighborhood asset

[The state} anticipates anchoring the project via a long-term lease or leasehold condominium interest for up to 350,000 gross square feet of space in the redeveloped property.”

There is also a section outlining what interested developers will be required to submit: requirements for qualifying to participate, and the features that each proposal must address.

The OFFEERING MEMORANDUM devotes a page to “Stakeholder Engagement”—which outlines both neighborhood considerations as well as preservation & design factors—and there’s another page on “Design Guidelines” (with sub-sections on Urban, Building, and Sustainable design).

And, elsewhere in the booklet, there’s information about the building's history, which identifies several of its key architectural characteristics. There’s language about “HISTORIC PRESERVATION CONSIDERATIONS” including:

“The Massachusetts Historical Commission and other preservation advocates have been and will continue to be integral in the redevelopment of the Hurley Building. . . .

The BGSC is eligible for listing on the state and federal registers of historic places.

[The state] engaged Stantec Architecture to establish design guidelines for the Hurley Building redevelopment. These guidelines, which have been reviewed by the project’s various stakeholders, include design principles categorized into three sections:

• Urban Design — Encourage significant, creative, dynamic urban interventions that complement, celebrate and improve the Hurley Building, its site and the entire urban block

• Building Design — Seek a solution that leads the nation in addressing a common challenge of adapting and adding to assets in ways that respect the Hurley and Lindemann [the other art of the BGSC] Buildings’ unique architecture

• Sustainable Design — Anticipate that the project will be a showcase of sustainable redevelopment strategies for similar buildings of its era in the Commonwealth and the nation.”

The Design Guidelines page from the OFFERING MEMORANDUM for the Hurley Building.

The “DESIGN GUIDELINES” state:

“BUILDING DESIGN

Goal

Seek a solution that leads the nation in addressing a common challenge of adapting and adding to assets in ways that respect the Hurley and Lindemann Buildings’ unique architecture.

Design Principles

• Prioritize adaptive reuse/rehabilitation

• Develop an innovative and complementary new composition of massing at various scales

• Create a signature new renovation and addition(s) to complement the existing Hurley/Lindemann/Courthouse block”

Moreover, elsewhere in the document, there’s a further statement that potential developers’ proposals will be expected to show “Integration of design excellence and historic preservation considerations”.

The Boston Preservation Alliance is a major organization that “protects and improves the quality of Boston’s architectural heritage. Through advocacy and education, we bring people and organizations together to influence the future of Boston’s historic buildings, landscapes, and communities.”

A POSITIVE ASSURANCE

The Boston Preservation Alliance is an important player in seeking to preserve the BGSC building, and said of the complex:

“The Government Services Center is historically significant for its team of architects, especially Paul Rudolph, its design, materiality, and architectural statement. Still today, the concrete complex stands in sharp contrast to common curtain-wall construction and the standard glass and metal we see throughout the city. The Alliance feels that the original buildings play a critical role in the landscape of Boston, telling an important story about the evolution of American design. The buildings could embrace a new life if properly upgraded. . . [They] urge the redevelopment program for the Hurley Building to preserve as much of the building as possible. Creative, sensitive modifications to keep the site functional relevant to contemporary needs are attainable without wholesale demolition, and there is a great desire in the community to preserve the integrity of this complex. . . .”

And, according to their July 22nd entry of their activity log for the Hurley Building, they have also been assured by the state:

“. . . .[That] Alliance staff that we will continue to be a part of the process, and have expressed clearly and with appreciation that our efforts to date altered their perspective from an offering which directed interested parties to focus on complete demolition to one that acknowledges the historic and architectural significance and opportunities for a creative redevelopment and adaptation of the existing buildings. We have been told that proposals that propose full demolition will not be considered competitive or viable.”

This is good to hear—and we hope that what the state has assured will be fulfilled.

WHAT’S NOT IN THERE (THE LACK OF SPECIFICS)—

But, reading the OFFERING MEMORANDUM, we are still concerned—

What is NOT clearly stated, by the state, is vital/specific information about how the project will proceed - factors which have consequences for how much weight will be given to preservation and adaptive reuse:

• How is the success and thoroughness of the developer’s proposals to be judged?

• What is the process by which the review/judgement will be performed?

• Who will do the judging?

• What opportunities will there be—and at what junctures—for stakeholder input (including from preservation agencies and advocacy groups)?

• Will there be opportunities for reviewing (and commenting on) proposals submitted during the process, including proposals initially submitted by developers —and— the proposals of the finalists —and— the proposal of the winner?

Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation is carefully watching this process—and will seek to participate in positive ways for attaining the maximum respect for this landmark work of architecture.

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P.S. — THE LOGIC OF RUDOLPH’S PLANS

The OFFERING MEMORANDUM includes something not often seen in publications about the Boston Government Service Center: a full set of the floor plans of the affected structure (the HURLEY BULDING). We reproduce, from the report, those plans—-which include all levels from the Basement -to- the Sixth Floor.

Worth noting about these plans are:

1. The columns are laid-out in a logical grid, and spaced-out with sufficient distance to allow for flexible arrangements.

2. Exit stairs are well placed at the ends of the building, and at the mid-point.

3. Among the most expressive features of the exterior are the curved towers. They are used to enclose exit stairs, so their unusual shape does not impinge on the more conventionally-formed office spaces.

4. The elevator cluster is placed centrally, making users close to it from both sides of the building.

5. Bathrooms and other facilities are distributed within the grid, providing service to both sides of the building.

6. There’s a balance of straightforward rectilinear spaces —and— of “shaped” spaces (at the entry halls, the elevator cluster, a top-floor meeting room, and the end of one wing); the latter type giving the interior experience of the building a memorable character.

7. As the building rises, it steps-back on the courtyard side (which would be at the top-left of each plan)—gradually reducing its mass, and opening more of the courtyard to the sky and sun.

The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation believes the HURLEY is perfect for ADAPTIVE REUSE. The logical layout of the Hurley Building’s floor plans show that it is a prime candidate for such a planning approach.

ABOVE: Hurley Building BASEMENT FLOOR PLAN

ABOVE: Hurley Building FIRST FLOOR PLAN

ABOVE: Hurley Building SECOND FLOOR PLAN

ABOVE: Hurley Building THIRD FLOOR PLAN

ABOVE: Hurley Building FOURTH FLOOR PLAN

ABOVE: Hurley Building FIFTH FLOOR PLAN

ABOVE: Hurley Building SIXTH FLOOR PLAN

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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:

Axonometric view of the overall design of Boston Government Service Center: drawing by Paul Rudolph, © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Photograph of BGSC model, surrounded by key players in the development of the project (with Rudolph included at right: vintage news photo: all other images are from the “OFFERING MEMORANDUM”, created for this project of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, with the offering being administered by Newmark.

LONG ISLAND MODERNISM: a Book for Architecture Lovers (especially if you admire Paul Rudolph)

Paul Rudolph and Philip Johnson were friends for decades, and both are well represented in Caroline Rob Zaleski’s book on Modern architecture on Long Island. The book’s cover shows Johnson’s Leonhardt House, a work from 1956 in Lloyd's Harbor, NY—a design which combined platonic forms, structural daring, detailing elegance, and efficient planning.

“With eye-opening photographs and surprising discoveries from a forgotten past … Long Island Modernism: 1930-1980 surveys a wealth of pioneering architecture produced locally by famous builders from around the world.”
— The Wall Street Journal

A LINE-UP OF ARCHITECTURAL STARS—AND THEY ALL DESIGNED FOR LONG ISLAND

Wright-Mies-Gropius-Rudolph-Johnson-Breuer-Meier-Harrison-Sert-Johansen-Pei-Raymond-Goodman-Nelson-Stone-Neutra-Lescaze— When it comes to famous architects working in America, did we leave anybody out? .

Within a 50 year period, all of the above-mentioned architects—a constellation of some of Modernism’s most celebrated designers—designed buildings and interiors for sites on Long Island, that island landmass which extends eastward from New York City and into the Atlantic.

To have all the above listed designers working within in the same area is an indication that, with respect to Modern architecture, it must be one of the culturally richest regions in the country. Clearly, this concentration of stellar talent and superb design had a history that needed to be revealed—and architectural historian Caroline Rob Zaleski delves into it, in her fascinating and visually rich book, LONG ISLAND MODERNISM 1930-1980

A rendering of Endo Laboratories, which was built in Garden City, Long Island— a Paul Rudolph design from the first half of the 1960’s. In 1964 it was the recipient of an award from the Concrete Industry Board of New York as “Concrete Building of the Year” for “representing the best in conception, originality, and applicability of concrete in both design and construction.” Caroline Rob Zaleski’s book, “Long Island Modernism,” delves into this fascinating and complex project.

The Siegel Residence is one of several Paul Rudolph designs that are explored in “Long Island Modernism”

THE BOOK

LONG ISLAND MODERNISM 1930-1980 belongs in the library of anyone interested in the history of Modernism in the USA. It engages with the fascinating question: What motivated clients to commission Modern architects for their buildings—in a range of building types: commercial, residential, and institutional—and in an era when Modernism was still emerging as a style that was yet-to-be fully appreciated (and was not as comprehensively accepted as it is now.) As William L. Hamilton, in his positive review of the book in The Architect’s Newspaper put it:

“Zaleski rises to the occasion, as architectural writers so often don’t, when pressed into play to give social context to builders and their buildings.”

The book includes an abundance archival photographs and drawings—often of surprising projects: real “discoveries” that are little-known even to design aficionados. Moreover the book itself, designed by Abigail Sturges, has an expansive character: its reproduced images and large format manifests some of the highest production values in architectural publishing.

Author, scholar, and preservation activist Caroline Rob Zaleski did extensive research to bring forth this book—one that is rich in history, and design excellence.

THE AUTHOR

Caroline Rob Zaleski received her graduate degree in architectural preservation from Columbia University’s School of Architecture, Planning and Preservation, and soon after became a leading advocate for the preservation of modern architecture in New York City and on Long Island. Her book, LONG ISLAND MODERNISM 1930-1980, is based on her field survey for the Society for the Preservation Antiquities—recently re-named Preservation Long Island, where she is also a trustee. She has been chair of the Preservation League of New York State “7 to Save Endangered Sites Program” wherein she encouraged the inclusion of applications relating to twentieth-century Modernism and recent New York State history. Her proudest “Save” was working to place the Edward Durell Stone–designed A. Conger Goodyear House, in Old Westbury, Long Island, on the State and National Register and World Monuments Watch. She also led a successful campaign to raise awareness of and civic involvement in the preservation and repurposing of Eero Saarinen’s TWA Terminal at John F. Kennedy Airport.

ENDORSEMENTS & REVIEWS

LONG ISLAND MODERNISM has received significant, positive reviews—including:

“Not only highlights what the island offers in terms of modern architecture, it is an excellent primer on modernism itself.”
—  Regional Planning Association

“Stunningly illustrates how modernism is alive and well on Long Island.”
—  ON: A Global Lighting Publication

“Comprehensive, exhaustively researched, and carefully detailed . . . . This is a book that enriches our understanding of an important component of twentieth-century culture and belongs in the library of anyone interested in the history of Modern architecture in America.”
—  APT Bulletin: Journal of Preservation Technology

“A sweeping and authoritative new book, Long Island Modernism 1930-1980, by Caroline Rob Zaleski thoughtfully covers the astonishing architectural and landscape architectural achievements in the area.”
— Huffington Post

BOOK AVAILABILITY

Long Island Modernism is available through a variety of sellers—but a limited number of copies are still available at a significant discount through the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation’s “Shop” page, HERE.

BOOK DATA

• Title: Long Island Modernism 1930-1980

• Author: Caroline Rob Zaleski

• Publisher: W. W. Norton

• Publisher’s web page for the book: here

• ISBN: 978-0-393-73315-D

• Cover Size: 12-1/4” tall × 9-1/4” wide

• Format: Hardcover

• Pages: 336

• Illustrations:  200 black-and-white illustrations, 20 color illustrations

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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:

Book cover: provided by author; Perspective rendering of Paul Rudolph’s Endo Labs: rendering by Brian Conant, © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Paul Rudolph’s Siegel Residence: photograph by Donald Luckenbill, © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Author’s photo: provided by author

Celebrating Ralph Twitchell, Architect: With and Beyond Paul Rudolph

The plan of the Twitchell Residence: Ralph Twitchell’s residence in Sarasota, Florida, a design of 1941. It is Paul Rudolph’s second built design, and his first in association with the senior architect. What might one learn (or speculate about) from studying such a floor plan?

Ralph Spencer Twitchell, Architect (1890-1978)

RALPH TWITCHELL

It is the birthday of Ralph Spencer Twitchell (July 27, 1890 – January 30, 1978)—and we take this moment to celebrate this architect, one who not only played a key part in the life and career of Paul Rudolph, but who contributed to the Sarasota community.

TWITCHELL AND RUDOLPH

Even to those who have a deep interest in the history of Modern architecture, Ralph Twitchell is not known much beyond a brief summary that peppers many biographies of Rudolph. What one often reads is that the senior architect gave Rudolph his start (Twitchell was nearly 3 decades older than Rudolph), bringing the young designer into his practice, and (and, as soon as Rudolph obtained his architectural license, taking him into partnership).

To this alliance, Twitchell is seen as having contributed an established position in the Sarasota community, a track record of successful projects, a way with clients, and a firm knowledge of construction—and Rudolph was the ultra-talented (and hardworking and prolific) youthful design genius. A productive period ensued, with many houses built and proposed—some of them among Paul Rudolph’s most striking designs, including: the widely-published Healy (“Cocoon”) House; the innovative Knott Residence; and the proposal for a complex of houses for the Revere Development (which showed Rudolph working skillfully within the vocabulary of Mies van der Rohe's “courtyard house” design experiments).

The Knott Residence, proposed for Yankeetown, Florida

The Healy (“Cocoon”) House, built in Sarasota, Florida

The Revere Development, proposed for Siesta Key, Florida

But, after about a half-decade of intense and successful work, Rudolph splits with Twitchell—apparently after a disagreement. Rudolph went on to found his own firm, attaining amazing success in the coming decades—both professionally and artistically.

ARCHETYPAL STORIES

So the impression one gets, from this highly condensed duo-biographical sketch, is that Twitchell provided the assets of the establishment: boring but practical and useful; whereas Rudolph injected the artistically energetic ingredients which really made their work interesting. Then, ultimately, it is the young genius who rebels and pursues his own path: an adventurous road to great achievement. From then on, we hear no more of Twitchell.

It is an appealing story, with its depiction of the talented and irrepressible “rebel”—and one wouldn’t have to search very hard into the work of Joseph Campbell to find, within the world of comparative mythology, that this is tale that can be found in all ages and cultures across the globe: the archetypal “Hero’s Journey”.

DEEPER AND BROADER

But, if there’s one thing that historians learn, it is that no story is simple—and, if one has the interest to dig, and to challenge the received wisdom, all stories keep opening up new questions and possibilities. The honest historian always wants—needs—to go deeper into the evidence, and look ever more broadly at what might have influenced/created a situation.

So let’s see if we can open-up (or as historians say, “unpack”) the above story. To do that, let’s consider the Twitchell Residence: how much is Twitchell and how much is Rudolph? We’ll probably never know the exact ratio and nature of their contributions to the design, but we can consider some of the factors that might have affected its planning and form. Items to consider include:

• This is Twitchell’s personal home—and it is a natural feeling to be particularly focused on the design of one’s own home—and that’s especially true for architects! No matter how talented his young associate (Rudolph), is it plausible that a senior architect would hand-over the full responsibility for the architecture of his own home to someone else? Or is it more likely that he had important and key input into the design?

• The building was completed in 1941. War is raging in Europe and Asia, and tremors of possible US involvement in the war—and a general national nervousness—are pervasive. Twitchell was old-enough to recall what happened during the previous World War: labor and materials had been in short-supply, and most construction was put on-hold for the duration of the fighting. Twitchell might have wanted to get his house built while it was still possible to do so—and he’d have only one chance to get it right. So—for this one chance—would he completely abdicate design responsibly for that to another?

• There are many striking similarities between the Living-Dining area of the Twitchell Residence, and the famous drafting room at Frank Lloyd Wright’s Taliesin West—too many to be just a coincidence [See comparison photos, below.]

• There are other Wrightian aspects of the Twitchell House: the compactness of the bedrooms (Wright thought bedrooms should be small, almost cabin-like, and primarily for sleeping—and that residents would/should spend their time outside of them); Dining and Living Room Areas that merge into each-other; the primacy of a solid, prominent fireplace wall, as one of the defining elements of the Living Room; and the set of visually solid piers which define the parking area, which create a strong entry sequence to the house.

• We know that Paul Rudolph was an ardent admirer of Wright—and that visiting a Wright home, at an early age, had been a decisive moment in Rudolph’s development. Rudolph’s devotion to Wright is something he’d acknowledge for his whole life. But—

The drafting room of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Taliesin West —and iconic part of the Taliesin complex. Key features—the ones that create it’s overall character are: the open, uninterrupted space; the inclined ceiling; the expressed structure inclined beams across that ceiling: the directionality of the space, with one side opening to the exterior; the V-shaped, angled columns, at the open side of the room, which support the beams above.

Both Twitchell and Paul Rudolph were aware of Wright’s work—and, from a young age, Rudolph was especially influenced by Wright’s designs (something he’d warmly acknowledge all his life). Above is the main living space of the Twitchell Residence: one is looking South into the Living Room, with the Dining area in the foreground. Was it Rudolph who urged that it follow so many of the features of Wright’s Taliesin drafting room?

• But Twitchell could equally have been aware of Wright. Frank Lloyd Wright was a relentless self-promoter and had been widely published for decades—so it would be impossible for any architect, of Twitchell’s era and age, to be ignorant of Wright. Further, given Wright’s decades of fame, Twitchell’s awareness of Wright’s work would have started well before he met Paul Rudolph.

• But, beyond familiarity, there’s a strong affinity between Wright’s work and another Twitchell project: one of his largest works, the Lido Beach Casino in Sarasota. The complex—an extensive structure with multiple parts and functions—was built in 1940, and probably planned in the previous year(s)—well before Rudolph was engaged by Twitchell. It was a venue for beach and pool swimming, dining, dancing, a nightclub, and shopping—and events of all kinds (beauty contests, swim meets, school and social) were held there.

• The project bears a striking similarity to Wright’s Midway Gardens: excluding swimming, both the Lido Beach Casino and Midway are of similar scale, encompass nearly matching programs, and were aimed at the same type of audience.

Frank Lloyd Wright’s Midway Gardens in Chicago

Ralph Twitchell’s Lido Beach Casino in Sarasota

• The two entertainment complexes share a “parti" (their basic architectural organization): both having a large, central, open space—which is enclosed and defined by structures for various functions, and which is anchored at one side by a taller main building.

Beachside view of the Lido Beach Casino—a view from circa 1956—showing the main, central structure that visually anchored the complex.

• Other aspects of the building display possible Wrightian influences, such as—-

• The pronounced horizontality of the composition—both overall, and in its elements: the low, hipped roofs of the two towers (and in the linear detail at their mid-areas), and the disc-shaped cantilevered roof at the center of the beach elevation

• The detailing of the columns

• The use of block—and prominently including a pattern of penetrations in the block masonry walls

• The creation of deep colonnades—not only offering protection from the sun, but also creating dramatically shadowed areas

• The almost Mayan “introverted” feel of the building—like Wright’s Hollyhock House, due to the solidity of the massing and of individual elements like the columns

• The display/celebration of structure—as in the rafters over the beachside elevation’s central roof, the hefty piers supporting that roof, and the line of columns

• Altogether, one cannot ignore the possible Wright influences in this Twitchell-before-Rudolph project.

• So the question becomes: If we see Wrightian influences here, could Twitchell also have brought such design input into his work with Rudolph?

WITHER RALPH TWITCHELL?

In the standard history of their Twitchell and Rudolph’s partnership, Twitchell is known as the “business partner” -or- the “public face” (who charmed clients) -or- “the [construction] site guy”. But though he was all those things (and, apparently, excelled in those roles), perhaps he was more than that. He had an extensive career both before and after his partnership with Rudolph, and—as looked-at in the above two cases (his 1941 Residence, and the Lido Beach Casino) there are reasons to contend that he might have had more of a design talent and sensibility than he’s usually given credit for. The import of this is: his input into projects in the Twitchell and Rudolph partnership might possibly have been stronger than previously assumed.

THE HISTORIAN’S PERSPECTIVE

To be fair to both sides, we should mention that we do have Paul Rudolph’s counter-testimony to such an idea (Rudolph said that whatever was good and interesting in their work was attributed to himself alone!). We don’t mean to assail the integrity of Rudolph’s claim—but part of the work of history is to question such self-contained, categorical statements. “Meta-narratives”—the big, central stories by which we’ve long understood the course of events (at world, local, and personal scales)—are never quite inclusive-enough of all the facts: there always dissonant evidence (“out-of-place artifacts”), clues, even “hints” that stubbornly won’t go away, and a real historian will never ignore them. So the question of Twitchell’s ability and input as a designer is an open one.

CELEBRATING TWITCHELL

So today,. on his birthday, we give Twitchell some renewed attention and consideration—”giving him a little love” that he’s rarely received in the soundbite assessment that he often gets.

A talented, energetic, and enterprising figure—and one who may have had more focus on design than usually acknowledged—it is worth celebrating this important architect: RALPH SPENCER TWITCHELL

Ralph Twitchell (center) consulting with builders on-site. What’s intriguing about this image is that it shows the Healy (“Cocoon”) House under construction—and one can see the catenary metal straps, upon which house’s curved roof (its most pronounced feature) was to be suspended. Healy was the most famous building completed during Twitchell and Rudolph’s partnership, but after Rudolph departed, Twitchell continued to practice until at least the mid-1960’s, and lived until 1978—long enough to see his former partner, Rudolph, achieve stratospheric success and fame. One wonders what Twitchell thought of that: was he jealous, bitter, tranquil—or glad that he’d fostered such a profound and prodigious talent as Paul Rudolph?

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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:

Floor plan of the Twitchell Residence: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Photo portrait of Ralph Twitchell: by Joseph Steinmetz, from the State Library & Archives of Florida, via Wikimedia Commons; Perspective renderings by Paul Rudolph of the Knott Residence, Healy (“Cocoon”) House, and the Revere Development: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Taliesin West drafting room: photo by Steven C. Price, via Wikimedia Commons [Note: to help facilitate comparisons between this space and the Twitchell Residence Living Room (the next picture), this photo of the drafting room has been flipped, and color was removed.]; Ralph Twitchell Residence Living Room: by Joseph Steinmetz, from the State Library & Archives of Florida; Midway Gardens: vintage post card. circa 1915, via Wikimedia Commons; Beachside view of Lido Beach Casino, circa 1956: photo, circa 1956, via Wikimedia Commons; Post cards and photos of Lido Beach Casino: vintage images; Photo portrait of Ralph Twitchell at Healy construction site: by Joseph Steinmetz, from the State Library & Archives of Florida, via Wikimedia Commons

Rudolph On Fire: July 14th, 1969

Saturday, 3:38 AM, July 14, 1969 — the moment that New Haven police were alerted that the Yale Art & Architecture Building was on fire. The blaze was quickly contained, but serious damage —from fire, smoke, and water—extended across several floors of Rudolph’s most iconic building.

When we say that someone’s “on fire”, it usually means something positive— that they’re in a state of great productivity, or they’re achieving their goals, or they’re becoming famous—or sometimes all of those. In that sense, the late 50’s and the 1960’s was certainly a period when Paul Rudolph was “on fire”: important commissions—often large scale, with significant budgets, and in a variety of building types—were coming into the office in abundance, and Rudolph was creating some of his most iconic buildings.

Rudolph was widely published, and seen as the face of a lively and creative American Modernism—and in 1957, at age 39, he was appointed Chair of the school of architecture at Yale (taking office in 1958). Soon after his appointment, he was given the commission to design Yale’s new Art & Architecture Building.

In February, 1964. something occurred which had probably never happened in the history of architectural publishing (and may never happen again): All three major American architectural journals—Architectural Record, Architectural Forum, and Progressive Architecture—had the same building as their cover story: Rudolph’s Yale Art & Architecture Building. John Morris Dixon, an editor at Progressive Architecture at the time, told us that there was no coordination for this—and, given that magazines generally avoid covering the same projects (and would certainly never want to make the same project their “cover story”), it is all-the-more evidence that this building was powerful enough to warrant such across-the-board coverage.

Rudolph’s Yale A&A Building on the cover of the February 1964 issue of ARCHITECTURAL FORUM

Rudolph’s Yale A&A Building on the cover of the February 1964 issue of ARCHITECTURAL RECORD

Rudolph’s Yale A&A Building on the cover of the February 1964 issue of PROGRESSIVE ARCHITECTURE

Reports on the building were nearly ecstatic—and the venerable critic Sibyl Moholy-Nagy—whose Modernist credentials could not be questioned—had an essay in Architectural Forum that can be taken as emblematic of the design’s initial reception. With insight and numerous historical references, she plumbed the building’s formal and spatial roots—and offered some qualifications—but her overall assessment was glorious. Here ae some of her remarks:

Architectural Forum’s February 1964 issue gave extensive coverage to all aspects of the Yale building. Shown here is a page from that issue, with Rudolph’s famous perspective-section drawing, as well as the main floor plan.

“It is gratifying to know that the world of academic honors and medals has so profusely acknowledged the Bauhaus doctrine of architectural education as taught at Harvard since 1937; because never before has a curriculum turned out such a star roster of infidels. Johnson, Lundy, Barnes, Rudolph, Franzen, and others have revered their teacher [Gropius—ed.] while confounding his teaching. They all have left the safe anchorage of functionality, technology and anonymous teamwork to start the long voyage home to architecture as art. A few faithfuls still repeat the old incantations, but the guns by which they struck have stopped firing while those of the apostates are blazing.”

“. . . . [Rudolph’s] latest building. It is a splendid achievement, crystallizing potential solutions for some of the most vexing propositions facing architecture today.”

“The concrete surface has been widely criticized as being arty in an age of technology. However, the visual relief from the beton brut cliché of random formwork in the wake of Le Corbusier's revolution is so pleasing, and the purpose of the building so nontechnological, that the artifice seems wholly justified.”

“Space is an abstraction that must be conceived for its specific purpose. Every user is a judge. It is from their total involvement in this dichotomy of idea and realization that the architectural students will learn the essence of their profession. The Yale school is Paul Rudolph's confessional proof that architecture is not a commodity but an infinite potential of art, and therefore free and imperishable.”

“Earthrise”—probably the most famous photograph to come out of the US space program. The photo was taken in 1968 during the Apollo 8 mission—the first time a manned ship had gone to the moon-and-back.

GOOD TIMES, AND…

After 6 years as chair, during which he revolutionized architectural education at Yale, Rudolph left in 1964—relocating his home and office in New York City (where he’d reside for the rest of his life). The later 60’s continued to be a good period for him, and in a previous article we surveyed how a representative year—1968—was both a time of cultural and political churning in the country, and a creatively rich time for Rudolph.

Things were going well in the US economy, and technology and culture [including architecture] were advancing in multiple directions—but that cultural & political “churning” (referred-to above) also involved protests of increasing number and intensity: of the war in Vietnam, the lack of rights for Women and minorities, the devastation of the environment, and of inequalities in wealth and community resources.

The Yale’s Art & Architecture Building’s main atrium drafting room, after the 1969 fire. The space’s signature statue of Minerva, though streaked by smoke, was undamaged.

…FIERY TIMES

Moreover, the very consumer/conformist culture which was so celebrated in mainstream media—and the values on which it was founded—were being questioned by a younger (and increasingly activist) generation. This led to campuses ablaze with protest.

The 1960’s—with all its growing openness and freedoms, as well as its clashing bitterness—is the subject of numerous historical-cultural studies, and has been dramatized in literature. For our purposes, we just want to note that it is within this heated atmosphere that Rudolph’s Yale Art & Architecture Building caught fire.

[RETROSPECTA 40 (the 2016-2017 issue), published by the Yale School of Architecture, has a section on the campus cultural context within which the fire occurred—as does Robert A. M. Stern and Jimmy Stamp’s history of a century of architectural education at Yale, “Pedagogy and Place” (which also covers the fire’s aftermath).]

Paul Rudolph, in the uniform of an officer in the US Navy during World War II. He was stationed at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, and engaged in the repair of damaged ships.

DID RUDOLPH CAUSE THE YALE A&A FIRE?

Rudolph left Yale in 1964, and his stated reason was to deal with his expanding professional practice—and, given the number and complexity of the commissions he was receiving, one can see that as a legitimate reason. Yet there may be an additional cause—emerging from Rudolph himself.

The sensitive and reticent country fellow, who went into the Navy during World War II, emerged as an experienced 0fficer who had commanded hundreds, working in a navy yard on the repair of damaged warships. Rudolph retained that mood and mode of command for the rest of his career. Even his look changed: gone was his pre-war bouffant, replaced by a severe flat-top cut that he wore for another half-century. While he was capable of showing warmth and generosity, he was known to students, faculty, and employees as a leader who was assertive and demanding. This brought forth superb achievements from students and staff—and often evoked life-long appreciation and loyalty to Rudolph—but, as the 60’s got going, the culture was changing: anything that had an authoritarian feel was ripe for questioning and push-back. Perhaps Rudolph began to feel this—and wanted none of it. So 1964 was the right time for him to depart.

Moreover, Rudolph’s own building—his great legacy to Yale—conveyed that same feeling of forcefulness. By the later 60’s, it too was being questioned—both functionally and conceptually—with its almost aggressive use of materials and “overdetermined” spaces were being undermined by the way it was used (and, some say, abused) during the chairmanship of Charles Moore, Rudolph’s successor as chair.

So if there was on-campus anger in the air (directed at a menu of legitimate grievances), there was also anger at the building—or rather, what it represented: power and authority, and the society (the campus and beyond) in which that was solidified and wielded.

Rudolph may have been gone, but his building felt like a tangible manifestation of what was wrong with the world.

The photographer of this scene, taken within Yale’s Art and Architecture Building in 2008, labeled it as having “crowded desks” and “littered with food, models, draft designs, and instruments of architectural design”. The studios in 1969—also a time of widespread smoking—were even denser with combustible materials.

WHAT REALLY CAUSED THE YALE A&A FIRE?

Many causes were advanced for the fire. Several that have been put forth are:

• The boiling, angry atmosphere, in that era of campus protest, was the context for student acts of violence and possibly arson.

• The above—a period of profoundly “anti-establishment” (anti-authoritarian) protest—combined with the almost aggressively powerful character of Rudolph’s design, made the building itself an attractive target for a protesting act of destruction.

• The building was permeable, and known to be subject to occasional petty theft, so local “kids”—delinquent teenagers—have been alleged to have started the fire.

• The studios were allowed—during Moore’s chairmanship—to become “favelas”: divided up by makeshift partitions of highly combustible materials—an environment of tinder, and in an era when smoking by students and faculty was still prevasive.

• The materials used by students—-paper, cardboard, glue, brushed and sprayed paint, wood, rubber cement…—are highly flammable. Moreover, as anyone who has ever visited an architecture school studio will report, these environments often become anarchic with scraps and debris on every surface.

Investigations of the fire were conducted, but never identified a distinct culprit. The local fire marshal said the cause was “undetermined” and possibly accidental, and cited the mass and density of combustible materials—but the local fire chief publicly said it was “of suspicious origin".

The Yale Art & Architecture Building did eventually receive a thorough renovation (and upgrading of systems), and was rededicated as Rudolph Hall in 2008.

REBIRTH OF THE PHOENIX

When Rudolph was asked about his reaction to the fire, he said:

“I felt as if somebody had died.”

Others reflected on the fire as symbol and message. A student said:

“. . . .the building burst into flames out if its own psychic guilt. It was the only solution.”

Peter Blake—an architect, journalist, and architectural magazine editor (and friend of Rudolph) wrote:

“The Yale fire did dramatize a state of concern. . . .a profound uneasiness among students (and some faculty) about the priorities that today govern American architecture and American architectural education”

In the fall of 1988, Yale students created an exhibit about the building—one to which Rudolph gave his full cooperation (including lending drawings.) The catalog had essays by Alan Plattus, George Ranailli, and Thomas L. Schumacher—each expressing their insights about (and appreciation of) the building—but the contribution by the late Michael Sorkin, “Auto da Fe”, meditated on the fire, and ends by evoking the mythical and immortal phoenix bird that regenerates out of fire:

“Too soon, but not too late for the Phoenix. The ruin waits to blaze again.”

The fire left the building was unusable, and the school had to move-out while repairs were done—not returning until 1971. Even without the fire, Rudolph had not been happy with way the building had been left subject to poor maintenance, and allowed to fall into disrepair. This was compounded by the way the subsequent administration (Moore’s) seemed to encourage a disrespect for the building and the values—Rudolph’s values—it represented. It was many years before Rudolph would even visit the building.

The building continued to decline, and Yale even considered demolition. Fortunately, it eventually received a complete and respectful interior & exterior renovation, undertaken with the support of Sid R. Bass (for whom Rudolph had designed an elegant residence, as well as other projects)—and in 2008 it was rededicated as

RUDOLPH HALL

Another view, taken after the 1969 fire, showing internal damage to the Art & Architecture Building. When Rudolph later remarked about his reaction to the fire: “I felt as if somebody had died.”

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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:

Yale Art & Architecture Building, during the 1969 fire: courtesy of Yale University; Photo of earth from space: photograph by US astronaut William Anders; Covers of the February, 1964 issues of Architectural Forum, Architectural Record, and Progressive Architecture, courtesy of USModernist Library; Yale Art & Architecture section and plan: page from Architectural Forum, courtesy of USModernist Library; Interior views of the Yale Art & Architecture Building, showing fire damage: courtesy of Yale University; Rudolph in US Navy officer’s uniform: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Renovated Yale Art & Architecture Building (Rudolph Hall): photo by Sage Ross, via Wikimedia Commons; Studio interior, within the Rudolph Hall (the Yale school of architecture building): photo by Ragesoss, via Wikimedia Commons

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

Celebrating I. M. PEI

I. M. Pei’s Dallas City Hall, completed in 1978. Of this project, he said: “When you do a city hall, it has to convey an image of the people, and this had to represent the people of Dallas. . . .The people I met—rich and poor, powerful and not so powerful—were all very proud of their city. They felt that Dallas was the greatest city there was, and I could not disappoint them.”

CELEBRATING I. M. PEI

I.M. Pei (1917 – 2019) as photographed in 2006.

IEOH MING PEI (April 26, 1917 – 16 May 16, 2019) lived a long and celebrated life. Well before his passing at age 102, he had received about every award and prize offered within in the profession of architecture.

While some of his projects had problems in their initial acceptance, usually they went on to be prized and a source of local pride—the Louvre Pyramid (part of the Grand Louvre project) being the prime example (and the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum being another.) Other projects were well appreciated from the start, like the Mesa Laboratory of the National Center for Atmospheric Research in Colorado, the East Building of the National Gallery in Washington, the Myerson Symphony Center in Dallas, the Dallas City Hall, and the OCBC Centre skyscraper in Singapore.

These are buildings whose ideas remain FRESH - one of the highest values to which a Modern architect could aspire - and one rarely achieved.

THE SPECIAL COMBINATION WHICH IS PEI’S ARCHITECTURE

Initially, it is not easy to identify what distinguishes Pei’s oeuvre from the other prominent architects working in his era—-the second-half of the 20th Century: firms which also received commissions of prominence, high cultural status, and significant budgets. One of the the terms that keeps coming up, when looking at Pei’s work, is “tailored”: his buildings are as carefully planned and crafted as a custom suit—and they have that quality of “Opulent Restraint”. Pei and his team focused upon every detail—not only the parts themselves, but also making them harmonious with the building-as-a-whole. Materials were chosen that both convey an investment in the present and also an eye to the future (they are substantial and wear well.) Craftsmanship is prized—and execution is carefully monitored. His buildings are much in-character with the I. M. Pei that most people encountered: a refined and charming gentleman—who was articulate and highly persuasive when “making the case” for his design decisions. But also he seemed to be someone that was personally reserved: a man whom you observe and listen-to with attention, and to whom you would not push too many questions—out of profound respect.

SOM’s Republic Newspaper Plant & Offices. As with Pei’s work, it exemplifies elegance in conception and execution..

Yet other architects, contemporary with Pei, could (and did) produce designs as refined and as “tailored.” The best of Skidmore Owings, and Merrill’s corporate office buildings—like their Lever House, or their Pepsi Cola Building on Manhattan’s Park Avenue, or One Liberty Plaza in downtown Manhattan, or their Republic Newspaper Plant & Offices in Columbus, Indiana—could rival Pei’s work in the thoughtful way that each structure solved problems, and the elegance of the detailing and execution. Other architects also worked in this direction—Craig Elwood, and the early work of Paul Rudolph, are examples. Since Pei has rivals in the domain of well-crafted Modernism, what raises his profile must be something in addition to those architectural values.

The other vital ingredient of what made a Pei building a “Pei” might be called The Grand Gesture. We are familiar with “grand gestures” in life: it might be a philanthropist donating a stunning sum to erect a needed facility (like a hospital or playground), or an employer granting an surprise bonus and holiday to her team—or even Oprah giving a car to every member of her studio audience. These “Grand Gestures” all share several characteristics:

• they are Big (and vividly noticeable) in the expenditure of resources, effort, or time

• they are Unexpected

• they have emotional Impact

• they Delight

• and they are Beautiful in the way they lift the spirit

It is architectural Grand Gestures which Pei, in combination with the caring “tailored” quality of his work, used to make his work rise above just being “elegant”—and we see such gestures in every one of his most memorable buildings:

• the inverted geometry of the Dallas City Hall

• the timeless platonic power of the Louvre Pyramid

• the relentless and striking angles of the National Gallery

• the unexpected-form of his Macau Science Center

• the collage of masses, emerging from the water, of his Rock & Roll Hall of Fame

• the vertiginous space of the JFK Library

• the curved glass “lens” floating upward from a rectilinear form, at the Myerson Symphony Center

• the knife-edges of his Gateway towers in Singapore (even more famously used at the National Gallery)

It is worth noting that Pei himself never identified this recipe as his modus operandi. In presenting his work—to clients, stakeholders, and the public—Pei consistently maintained that his forms and spaces were the logical outcome of a careful analysis of the programmatic challenges of each commission. His presentations were masterpieces of persuasiveness-through-clarity: when presenting, he took the clients step-by-step through the development of the designs, so that they saw (or believed they saw) the inevitableness of Pei’s architectural decision. While this too is a kind of showmanship, the clients evidently appreciated the pragmatic mode in which Pei communicated—and strongly supported him through some challenging building projects.

“The essence of architecture is form and space, and light is the essential element to the key to architectural design, probably more important than anything. Technology and materials are secondary.” — I. M. Pei

The most famous of I. M. Pei’s buildings—the ones referenced above—are well-known to most people. So we’d like to celebrate his birthday with some Pei designs that you might not be familiar with, or show some fresh views of well-known ones…

The William L. Slayton House is one of the very few residences that Pei designed, and an early project (being completed in 1960). Its signature system of roof vaults is evocative of one of Le Corbusier’s buildings: the Maisons Jaoul (a design from about a half-decade before the Slayton House)—with which Pei probably was familiar. The Slayton House is on the National Register of Historic Places, and you can see the full report on it (which includes drawings and photos) here.

The Louvre Pyramid—the main entry to the Louvre Museum—must be one of the most known images in Paris. What makes this photograph of it—sitting within the courtyard of the hundreds-of-years-old Louvre Palace—so striking is that it feels like a vintage engraving.

A comparison of the size and silhouettes of pyramids around-the-world—from ancient-to-modern. The smallest, on this chart, is the Louvre pyramid (the small, blue triangle at the bottom-center.) A larger, easier-to-read version of this chart can be seen here.

The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, in Cleveland, was dedicated in 1995. Even though it is one of Pei’s most well-known late projects its striking collage of nearly clashing masses never ceases to startle - as can be seen in this photograph by Lance Anderson.

The Gateway is a commercial development in Singapore which was completed in 1990.. It consists of two towers that are trapezoidal in plan. Both of the towers are 37 storeys tall, and the wedge-shapes of their corners creates a striking effect..

The Macau Science Center is a science museum and planetarium not far from Hong Kong. The project—with its unusual forms, set by the water—began in 2001 and was opened in 2009.

A night-time view of the Macau Science Center.

Pei’s Bank of China Tower is famous for the the large diagonal geometry of its facades, almost always seen in distant views. But most people are not familiar with it close-up, and we thought it would be worth showing that aspect of the building—the one that impacts Hong Kong residents and the building’s users. Above is view of one of the building’s sides, near the bottom—showing the refinement of patterning and attention to material and detail which Pei brought to every project.

I. M. Pei’s Bank of China Tower (center-left) in Hong Kong, identifiable by its’ diagonal/triangular geometries, was completed in 1990. We thought it would be good to show it in proximity to one of the pair of towers of Paul Rudolph’s Bond [Lippo] Centre (center-right), which were completed a few years earlier in 1988.

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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:

Dallas City Hall: photo by Loadmaster (David R. Tribble), via Wikimedia Commons;  Photo portrait of I. M. Pei: U.S. State Department photograph, via Wikimedia Commons;  Republic Newspaper Plant & Offices, by SOM: photo by Don47203, via Wikimedia Commons;  William L. Slayton House: photo by Smallbones, via Wikimedia Commons;  Louvre Pyramid: photo by Christopher Michel, via Wikimedia Commons;  Comparison of size of pyramids chart: by Cmglee, via Wikimedia Commons;  Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum, photo by Lance Anderson, via Wikimedia Commons;  The Gateway, Singapore: photo by Someformofhuman, via Wikimedia Commons;  Macau Science Center: photo by AG0ST1NH0, via Wikimedia Commons;  Macau Science Center-night view: photo by Diego Delso, delso.photo, License CC-BY-SA, via Wikimedia Commons;  Base of Bank of China tower: photo by Emasmeso, via Wikimedia Commons;  Bank of China tower and Bond Center tower: photo by Bernard Spragg. NZ, via Wikimedia Commons

Paul Rudolph the Artist? -or- When is a "Rudolph" not a Rudolph?

Definitely designed by Paul Rudolph: the General Daniel “Chappie” James Center for Aerospace Science and Health Education, at Tuskegee University—a architectural project from the early 1980’s—shown here being dedicated by President Reagan.

Although it has similarities to a number of Rudolph buildings (and the architect-of-record, Desmond & Lord, was a close associate of Rudolph on several projects), our assessment is that this college library is not a Paul Rudolph design.

IS IT A REALLY A RUDOLPH? - THE TASK OF ATTRIBUTION

From time-to-time, the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation is asked whether something is really a work of Paul Rudolph’s. That “something” might be from any facet of the great range of work to which Rudolph applied his creative energies: a building, a drawing, an object (i.e.: a light fixture), or—most intriguingly—an artwork.

In fact, we’ve recently been asked to comment on whether a painting is (or is not) by Rudolph. We’ll examine that possibility—but first: We’ll need to consider some of challenges of attribution, and also look at Paul Rudolph’s relationship to fine art.

There seems to be some cachet in having Rudolph’s name is attached to a house that’s for sale—and this even applies to houses that are not on-the-market, as some enthusiastic owners may want their home to be associated with the great architect. But not every such claim is true—and sometimes our assessment is that a building—to the best of our current knowledge—is not a Rudolph.

A CHALLENGING CASE

There are also cases where the relationship of Paul Rudolph to a project is not abundantly clear—and the matter needs investigation.

A drawing of a college library, done in Paul Rudolph’s perspective-section technique. Close inspection led us to assess that this is probably not actually a drawing by him—but rather: a drawing done in Rudolph’s spirit, possibly by someone that had worked closely with him.

For example: A staff member from a college library approached us. Their building was about to celebrate a half-century “birthday”—and they’d heard that it was designed by Paul Rudolph, and they asked us about it.

So was it? Well, it wasn’t on any of our lists of Paul Rudolph projects—but those lists were, over decades, edited and re-edited numerous times by Rudolph himself—and it’s possible that a project of his might have been left off those lists for any number of reasons. Another factor we considered was that the building’s architect-of-record had done other, important projects in close association with Rudolph. Moreover, the library building did exhibit some very Rudolph-like features. Also, the perspective-section drawing of the building was done in a manner resembling Rudolph’s graphic technique. But, after carefully looking at the building and the documents available to us, and also after consulting with some of Paul Rudolph’s past staff members, we concluded that the building was: “Rudolphian—but not a Rudolph.”

MULTIPLE RUDOLPHS?

There are other factors which, when working out an attribution, can lead one astray. One of them is when another person, with the same name, is also working in the same field and during the same era.

For example: For a long while, we were wondering about a rendering of a large, wholesale market facility for NYC: the Hunts Point Market. That’s a project which Rudolph had been asked to design—and we had documentation to prove that: the archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation has an official press release from Mayor Lindsay’s office, explicitly announcing that Rudolph had received the commission.

The only image we’d ever seen of the proposed project looked nothing like a Rudolph design, nor was it done in his rendering style. Moreover, the rendering was done in tempera-gouache—a drawing medium which Paul Rudolph reputedly detested. Yet the drawing was signed “Rudolph”! Here was an architectural mystery.

ABOVE: A rendering found when researching Rudolph’s Hunts Point Market project. It is signed by “Rudolph”—but is nothing like a Paul Rudolph drawing. LEFT: A book celebrating winners of the Birch Burdette Long Memorial Prize for architectural rendering. The work of two different “Rudolphs”—the maker of the rendering above, and Paul Rudolph—are both in the book.

So was it? Only later did we come to understand that the Hunts Point Market rendering was by Rudolph, but a quite different one. The mysterious drawing was by George Cooper Rudolph (1912-1997)—an architect who was an almost exact contemporary of Paul Rudolph. George Cooper Rudolph’s main professional activity was as a renderer: he and his office were primarily engaged in making perspectives of proposed buildings for other architects and designers. He provided views for a large number of projects—and his prime medium was tempera-gouache, which was very popular at that time for such presentation drawings (although he did other things too.)

There’s another connection (beside the Hunts Point Market project) between the two Rudolphs. The Birch Burdette Long Memorial Prize was awarded annually for excellence in architectural rendering, and a book was published in 1966 showing drawings by 22 prominent winners. This work shown was by some of the best draftsmen/renderers of the 20th century. Here the two Rudolphs came together: included was a selection of work by George Cooper Rudolph—and on the book’s cover showed Paul Rudolph’s proposed design for the tower of the Boston Government Service Center [but, ironically, it was rendered someone else: Helmut Jacoby—yet another prize winner]

WHAT ABOUT FINE ART?

In the last few years, we’ve encountered several paintings which were attributed to Paul Rudolph. We believe these claims are made with total sincerity, and that the galleries offering these works have had some reason to assert that these are by the famous architect..

We’ll look at the three examples which we’ve come across—but before we do, we have to ask:

WAS RUDOLPH EVER KNOWN TO MAKE ART?

We come across little evidence that, as an adult, Paul Rudolph engaged in the making of fine art—and in the rare cases that he did so, it was only in connection with an architectural commission. It’s true that he appears, in his youth, to have loved to make art—and the archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation has a vintage newspaper clipping showing a young Rudolph with a figurative sculpture that he’d made (for which he had won an award.) A memoir by his mother (also in our archives, and which you can read here) further testifies that he loved to make art when young. Doubtless, his higher education—including at architecture school—included one-or-more fine arts courses.

PAUL RUDOLPH BROUGHT ART INTO HIS BUILDINGS

An interior, circa 1963, within the recently completed Yale Art & Architecture Building—showing a large wall mural which Rudolph included in the building.

You can find Rudolph, several times, inserting art into his architectural renderings, showing where artworks might be located as part of a project’s overall design.

Not all such proposals were fulfilled, but some of his buildings did have art prominently incorporated into the architecture—like the two large murals by Constantino Nivola in his Boston Government Service Center. Artworks were also part of his interior design for his Yale Art & Architecture Building (wherein contemporary and ancient art were placed throughout the building) and in Endo Laboratories. Moreover, to the extent he could afford to do so, Rudolph included artwork in his own residences.

One further bit of data we’ve come across: there’s an interview with Rudolph—well into his career—during which he’s asked if he’d like to do fine art. He answers: Yes, he might like to do so—but doesn’t have the time.

RUDOLPH’S FIGURATIVE ART

The only times (post-youth) that we’ve found Rudolph making fine art are in two professional projects: one at the very start of his career, and the other during the decade of his greatest creative output:

ABOVE: Paul Rudolph’s Atkinson Residence, in which Rudolph’s mural was above the fireplace. BELOW: A longitudinal-section construction drawing of his Hirsch Townhouse. That house’s mural, also by Rudolph, was located in the large, open atrium space, shown in the left half of the drawing.

• Rudolph’s very first professional project was the Atkinson Residence of 1940, built in Auburn, Alabama when he was 22 years old. The living room features a 6' high x 10' wide ornamental mural above the fireplace—most likely a consequence of Rudolph attending a required class on 'Mural Design' while in school. The mural’s linework is composed of V-shaped grooves, cut directly into the plaster.

• The next time (and the last time that we know of) when we see Rudolph-as-artist is at least a quarter-century later: in his 1966 design for the Hirsch Townhouse in Manhattan (the residence that was later to become famous as the home of fashion designer Halston.) Rudolph covered a prominent wall in the living room with a large mural—about four times the area of the one done in Alabama—but also done in with the same technique: making lines by the cutting of grooves.

What the two artworks share in-common are:

• both artworks are figurative,

• viewers can readily discern several people and objects

• they both have a dream-like (or story-book) quality

• both have highly stylized imagery

The mural from Rudolph’s 1940 Atkinson Residence, in Auburn, AL, located above the Living Room’s fireplace.

The mural from Rudolph’s 1966 Hirsch Townhouse. Its scale can be judged by seeing the client standing in-front.

HIS PROFESSIONAL ARTISTRY

Paul Rudolph did engage in 2-dimensional artwork—but of an applied, professional nature.

We’re referring to his famous perspective renderings (especially section-perspectives). An entire book was devoted to these drawings (see cover at right)—with his section-perspective drawing of the Burroughs Wellcome building being given the front cover.

In Paul Rudolph’s renderings after he left Florida, he generally eschewed the use of continuous tone (a position consistent with his dislike for gouache renderings.) His fine control of linework (often linear, but sometimes flowing) was what Rudolph utilized when he needed to generate tonality—and he achieved that through hatching and line density, to arrive at the effects he desired.

Interestingly, Rudolph’s line-oriented techniques, which he used for his architectural renderings, are not-so-different from the techniques utilized in his two murals.

PAUL RUDOLPH AND TOPOLOGY-AS-ART

The relationship of a topo map’s curved lines (bottom) with the layers of a 3D model version (top.)

A portion of the Stafford Harbor model. The model’s topo layers, reflecting the hilly nature of the inland part of the development’s site, are most evident in the upper-right area of this photograph.

Before a more direct consideration of Paul Rudolph’s engagement with fine art, it’s worth noting the formal affinity between the sinuous sets of closely-spaced lines (that one finds in Rudolph’s two murals,) and the lines produced when making topo maps and topo models. Using a topo system, in drawings and models, was a standard practice in architectural offices—including Rudolph’s.

Most sites are not flat—so architects study such sites with “topo maps.” These maps have numerous lines, whose closeness-or-distance to each other graphically convey an area’s steepness-or-flatness. When this gets translated into 3-dimensions—to create a “topo model”—the model is made of a series of layers (of boards), the edges of which follow the curves of the map.

Rudolph’s office produced numerous models of his proposed designs—and when a site was hilly, the buildings were set upon such “topo model” bases. The flowing lines of these models (the result of showing the contours of the land in this way) was visually pleasing to Rudolph—so much so, that Rudolph “decorated” his work spaces with those models.

A prominent example of the use of the topo technique is his large model for Stafford Harbor, a project of the mid-1960’s. The Virginia project comprised a master plan, and the design for townhouses, apartment houses, a hotel, boatel, as well as commercial spaces. It embraced the site’s topography—and one can see in the model which Rudolph’s office produced for the project that each layer conveys a change in height.

The full model was gigantic—and Rudolph suspended it, vertically, in the entrance to his architectural office. He used the model’s aesthetic appeal (and surprising orientation) to create a wall-sized, art-like “hanging” that brought additional drama to his office’s multi-storey space.

Moreover, when Rudolph was Chair of the School of Architecture at Yale (in the Yale Art & Architecture Building that he designed, now rededicated as Rudolph Hall), he situated a topo-like mural by Sewell Sillman in the atrium of the main drafting space—both as inspiration and for its aesthetic appeal.

A topo-like mural by Sewell Sillman, placed above the main drafting room/atrium, in Paul Rudolph’s Yale Art & Architecture Building (now rededicated as Rudolph Hall.)

Rudolph “decorated” his work spaces with topo models—like this one of Stafford Harbor—placed dramatically at the entry of his Manhattan architectural office.

PAINTINGS BY RUDOLPH?

We’ve come across several works that have been attributed to Rudolph. Each have an aesthetic appeal—but are they really by Paul Rudolph-the-architect?

EXAMPLE ONE:

The painting at right has been claimed to be by Rudolph. The back is has two labels giving the attribution, and the front has a signature.

While we cannot discount all possibilities, we’d say this painting’s compositional strategy is one characterized by the fracturing of the image—an aesthetic that Paul Rudolph does not usually follow. Rocco Leonardis (an architect and artist who had worked for Rudolph) says “Architects make Wholes”—and that well characterizes Rudolph’s work. In contradistinction, this painting’s collage-like conception is closer to the approach taken by Robert Delaunay in his famous depiction the Eiffel Tower (see below-left): a breaking-up of the object.

Paul Rudolph, in his perspective renderings, was noted for his linework—and the painting certainly relies on a multitude of lines to convey the subject. But whereas one senses that Rudolph’s lines are well-controlled—in the service of creating precise images of a projected architectural design—the lines in the painting are explosively staccato.

The painting’s “line quality” has more of an affinity with the work of Bernard Buffet, whose drawing-like paintings (and even his signature) are filled with a shrapnel-like energy (see below-center).

Combining the painting’s fragmented forms and line quality, we can see them used simultaneously in a canonical work of 20th century Modernism: Lyonel Feininger’s 1919 cover design for the manifesto of the Bauhaus (see below-right.)

Of course we’re not suggesting that any of those artists had a hand in the making of the painting (except, possibly, as inspirations)—but only point out that their artwork is closer to the painting than any of Paul Rudolph’s work.

A painting by Robert Delaunay

A painting by Bernard Buffet

A print by Lyonel Feninger.

Signatures on an artwork count for a great deal, and here we can see a close-up of the one on the painting:

Paul Rudolph’s actual signature.

In the course of our work at the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation, we’ve seen Paul Rudolph’s signature hundreds of times—and at right is a representative example.

As with any signature, one can find a bit of variation in Rudolph’s signatures—but our observation is that his signature is fairly consistent over his lifetime—and it does not seem to resemble the one in the painting. There’s also a label attached to the back, with a note on it, and it appears to be in another language (German). The name “Paul Rudolph” appears within the handwritten note—but it too does not match Rudolph’s signature.

Based on the discrepancies between the painting and Paul Rudolph’s work and signature, we do not believe the painting is by Paul Rudolph (at least not our Paul Rudolph)—but we are open to a reassessment if additional information is discovered.

EXAMPLES TWO AND THREE:

If you do a Google search for “ ‘Paul Rudolph’ painting ” only a couple of other artworks show up—and below is a screen grab of the results:

A screen capture of a portion of a page from Google Images, showing results when the search request is set for “ ‘Paul Rudolph’ painting”

Both are attractive works, and each is done in oil (the left is oil-on-canvas, and the right is oil-on-paper)—and both were attributed to Paul Rudolph. They were offered or sold through galleries/auction houses who are distinguished for the quality of the artworks they offer and the depth of their knowledge. So, as with the painting in Example One, we conclude that such attributions were made in good faith, and to the best of the seller’s knowledge.

So might these be by Paul Rudolph?

We have a date for the right-hand one: 1958. The 1950’s was the era in Rudolph’s work when he began to move from Bauhaus orthogonal rectilinearly (as exemplified by the Walker Guest House, 1951-1952) towards a more muscular (and even sculptural) manifestation of that aesthetic (the most powerful example is his Yale Art & Architecture Building, 1958) and he was also beginning to incorporate dramatic curvilinear forms (as in his Garage Manager’s Office project, 1961). These Rudolph works don’t have a formal vocabulary which resonates with those paintings.

Walker Guest House

Yale Art & Architecture Building

Garage Manager’s Office

FINE ART OF THAT ERA: THE DOMINANT MODE

ABOVE: Harry Bertoia’s altar screen within the MIT Chapel; BELOW: Jackson Pollock’s painting.

But, no matter how much Rudolph explored architectural forms, it must be acknowledged that he was still a child of the Modernist era—and that included being educated by the founding director of the Bauhaus itself—Walter Gropius.

When the paintings attributed to Rudolph were being made, abstraction and abstract expressionism were the popular style among painters and sculptors.

Two artists who manifested the sprit of that period were the sculptor Harry Bertoia (1915-1978) and the painter Jackson Pollock (1912-1956)—both born within about a half-decade of Paul Rudolph, and coming to prominence about the same time.

Consider two works by those artists: Bertoia’s altarpiece screen (reredos) for the MIT Chapel (the building was completed in 1956, and its architect was Eero Saarinen), and a 16 foot wide painting by Pollock from 1952.

Those two works share several characteristics—ones seen with some frequency in the artwork of the era:

• energy/movement

• fragmentation

• linearity—but often without alignment

• a discernable design—but one that embraces a mixture of chaos and order

• generally they are non-non-figurative—or, if the figure (a building or body) is included, the imagery is pushed towards abstraction

• a restricted palette (or limited range of tones/finishes/materials)

All of these are also shared by the paintings attributed to Paul Rudolph. You could say that those two works are consistent with the fine-arts style of the era in which they were created. In other words: they truly “make sense” for their time. But they don’t match Paul Rudolph’s form-vocabulary of that era.

THE QUESTION REMAINS: ARE THEY RUDOLPHS?

We can’t rule out that Paul Rudolph, some time mid-century, may have briefly tried his hand at painting. But, given all we know—

• his practice was feverishly busy at the time

• his work, at this time, does not have any formal resemblances to the artworks

• linework—a significant part of all the artworks—is unlike the the type of linework which Rudolph used extensively in his work

• he was simultaneously leading a major educational institution (as Chair of Yale’s School of Architecture from 1958 -to-1963), as well as engaged in the titanic work of designing its famous school building

• his two known artworks (the murals) are figurative, and of an utterly different character

• the signature we’ve seen (on the first painting shown above) doesn’t match the many signatures on Rudolph documents in our archive

• no other Rudolph artworks of a similar style have come to light

So the “balance of probabilities” leads us to conclude that those paintings may be by a Paul Rudolph, but not likely by the architect Paul Rudolph.

BUT PAUL RUDOLPH DOES INSPIRES ARTISTS…

Rudolph himself might never have made two-dimensional artworks on paper or canvas—but he may have inspired the artwork of others, and below are two examples where that seems to be the case.

EMILY ARNOUX

Emily Arnoux is an artist from Normandy, and she has exhibited with the Fremin Gallery in New York City. Her recent show there featured vividly colored images of pool-side scenes, and her gallery says of her:

“From a young age, she became fascinated by the ocean and the laid back lifestyle surf-culture engenders. Her work captures the divine energy and the jubilation experienced when diving into cool water. . . . Arnoux’s [work feels]. . . .at once contemporary and modern, recalling beach-side postcards of the 1950s & 60s.”

What intrigued us is some of the architecture which is included in her works, and one of her wonderful paintings in particular—“Cubes Game”—seems quite resonant with Paul Rudolph’s Milam Residence of 1959, in Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida. Above is a mosaic of images from Ms. Arnoux’s paintings—and, below, you can see her “Cubes Game” side-by-side with Rudolph’s Milam Residence.

Paul Rudolph’s celebrated Milam Residence in Florida

Emily Arnoux’s superb painting, “Cubes Game”

Emily Arnoux’s paintings are full of life and color—and if Rudolph’s work was of any inspiration to her, we are delighted.

SARAH MORRIS

Sarah Morris is a New York based artist whose works are in major museums throughout the world. Her paintings embrace color and geometry. Occasionally they utilize forms from typography, but most often they are abstract, relying on composed linear and circular elements and areas of color.

Morris’ 2018 exhibit at the Berggruen Gallery in San Francisco showed then-recent drawings and paintings (as well as a film by her.) Her gallery said of Morris (and of that exhibit) that she is:

“. . . .widely recognized for her large-scale, graphic paintings and drawings that respond to the social, political, and economic force of the urban landscape through a visual language grounded in bold and ambitious abstraction. Her probing of the contemporary city inspires a consideration of the architectural and artistic climate of modernity and humanity’s footprint—a subject that Morris energizes and invigorates through a distinct use of geometry, scale, and color. . . .Asymmetrical grids form futuristic compositions of sharply delineated shapes separated by rigid borders and acute transitions between colors.  The grid-like quality of her work evokes city plans, architectural structures (including a staircase designed by Paul Rudolph), tectonic plates, or industrial machinery. . . .”

That text referred to a work by Sarah Morris titled “Paul Rudolph”. The painting’s medium is household gloss paint-on-canvas, and it is 84-1/4” square, and was created in 2017. In this work, too, we see Rudolph inspiring an artist’s creativity.

Sarah Morris’ fascinating painting from 2017, “Paul Rudolph”

RUDOLPH AND ART

Paul Rudolph engaged with art in various ways—his medium is architecture—but, to the best of our knowledge, we believe that the paintings that have been attributed to him are not by Paul Rudolph-the-architect.

But we are happy to see Paul Rudolph inspire others working in the fine arts!

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IMAGE CREDITS

NOTES:

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

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

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

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

Tuskegee dedication by President Reagan: source unknown;  Library building, for which Desmond & Lord was the architect: photo by Daderot, via Wikimedia Commons;  Section-perspective drawing: screen grab from Framingham State University web page;  Architectural Renderings book: a copy is in the collection of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Rendering of Hunts Point Market: Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division;  Interior with mural of the Yale Art & Architecture Building: photo by Julius Shulman, © J. Paul Getty Trust. Getty Research Institute, Los Angeles;  Atkinson Residence: photograph by Andrew Berman, from the archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Hirsch Townhouse longitudinal construction section drawing: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Atkinson Residence mural: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Hirsch Townhouse mural: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Paul Rudolph drawing book: a copy is in the collection of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Topo map diagram: Romary, via Wikimedia Commons;  Stafford Harbor model: photographer unknown;  Main drafting room of the Yale Art & Architecture Building, 1963: photo by Julius Shulman, © J. Paul Getty Trust. Getty Research Institute, Los Angeles;  Paul Rudolph’s architectural office’s entry area: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Tall painting attributed to Rudolph: supplied to us by owner;  Robert Delaunay painting: via Wikimedia Commons;  Bernard Buffet painting:  AguttesNeuilly, via Wikimedia Commons;  Lyonel Feninger print: Cathedral (Kathedrale) for Program of the State Bauhaus in Weimar (Programm des Staatlichen Bauhauses in Weimar)1919;  Close-up of painting with signature: supplied to us by owner;  Paul Rudolph signature: from the archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Paintings attributed to Paul Rudolph: screen grabs from Google Images;  Walker Guest House: photo by Michael Berio. © 2015 Real Tours. Used with permission;  Yale Art & Architecture Building: photo by Julius Shulman, © J. Paul Getty Trust. Getty Research Institute, Los Angeles;  Garage Manager’s Office: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Bertoia altar screen within MIT chapel: Daderot, via Wikimedia Commons;  Pollock painting: via Wikimedia Commons;  Mosaic of Emily Arnoux paintings: screen grab from Fremin Gallery web page devoted to the artist;  Milam Residence: Joseph W. Molitor architectural photographs collection. Located in Columbia University, Avery Architectural & Fine Arts Library, Department of Drawings & Archives;  Arnoux painting, “Cubes Game”: from Emily Arnoux web page;  Sarah Morris painting, “Paul Rudolph”, screen grab from Berggruen Gallery web page devoted to Sarah Morris’ 2018 exhibition.

Celebrating EZRA STOLLER

The famous architectural photographer (with his famous subject) himself gets photographed: During the 1963 New Haven session, during which Ezra Stoller made his iconic photographs of Paul Rudolph and his Yale Art & Architecture Building, Judith York Newman captured the two of them in action.

We celebrate the 106th Birthday of EZRA STOLLER (May 15, 1915 – October 29, 2004) — one of America’s greatest architectural photographers.

Anybody who has tried to capture a good image of a building (or architectural interior or detail) will know that there is no such thing as a purely objective photograph. Instead: the photographer makes significant decisions about composition, lighting, depth-of-focus, proportion, distance, contrast, framing, and other factors. Both the architect and the photographer have to deal with practical requirements but, no less than with the architect, the result of the photographer’s efforts is an artistic work: one which can be both expressive and meaningful.

What photographer operated at the highest level of this simultaneously practical and artistic discipline? When one thinks of architectural photography in America, the name—or rather: the images—of Ezra Stoller are what probably first come-to-mind. For decades, Stoller photographed many of the 20th Century’s most significant new buildings in the US and thereby created an extensive archive of the achievements of Modern American architecture. More than that, Stoller’s views are some of the most iconic images of that era of design, or of particular buildings.

EZRA STOLLER AND PAUL RUDOLPH:

Of the several photographers that Rudolph worked with, Ezra Stoller is likely the one with which he had the most involvement and lasting relationship. Stoller photographed much of his residential work in Florida—including some of Rudolph’s greatest and most innovative houses like the Milam Residence (as seen on the cover of Domin and King’s book on the Florida phase of Rudolph’s career (see image at right), the Walker Guest House, the Umbrella House, and the Healy “Cocoon” House. He also captured the Yale Art & Architecture Building (see below), Sarasota Senior High School, the Temple Street Parking Garage, Endo Labs, the UMass Dartmouth campus, the Tuskegee Chapel, the Hirsch (later: “Halston”) Townhouse in New York City , the Wallace House, Riverview High School , the Sanderling Beach Club, and numerous others—including the Burroughs Wellcome US headquarters and research center.

Ezra Stoller took a series of photographs of Paul Rudolph’s Yale Art & Architecture Building (now rededicated as Rudolph Hall)—including the above portrait of Rudolph with the building in the background. Decades later, Stoller issued a set of monographs on key works of Modern architecture—his “Building Blocks” series—and the Yale building was selected to be one of the structures upon which the books focused (see image at right.) One of Stoller’s photos of the building—taken when it was freshly finished, in 1963—was to become an iconic image, and was used on the cover of the book.

STOLLER: ON-EXHIBIT, IN-PRINT, AND ON-VIEW

EXHIBITIONS:

Ezra Stoller’s work was exhibited numerous times: we know of at least ten solo exhibitions (listed here)—and the countless times when his photographs were included as parts of other exhibits, around-the-world (including in major museums).

BOOKS:

His photographs are in magazines and journals, as well as books that cover architecture (and, significantly, they’re in the monographs of individual architects—including Paul Rudolph). Several books have been published which focus exclusively on Ezra Stoller’s work, from “Ezra Stoller: Photographs of Architecture” (1980) -to- “Modern Architecture: Photographs by Ezra Stoller” (1999). The latter’s cover features a stark photograph in color—and that illustrates an important point: although Stoller is most well-known for his work in black & white photography, he could also create striking images in full color.

More recently, his work has been collected into extensive, large-format monographs—which allow one to comprehend and appreciate his full career: “Ezra Stoller, Photographer” (2012); and “Ezra Stoller: A Photographic History of Modern American Architecture” (2019). At 288 and 416 pages, respectively, these two volumes offer comprehensive views of Stoller’s oeuvre—and of the Modern era, subjects, and architects upon which he was focused.

EZRA STOLLER — TODAY:

A screen capture from the ESTO website, of the page focusing on Ezra Stoller. It includes a portrait of the famous photographer himself, as one of his iconic images of a building by Louis Kahn: the Salk Institute.

ESTO, the organization founded by Ezra Stoller, continues to operate, and is now directed by his daughter, Erica Stoller. It provides access to their extensive photographic archive: a treasury of images of unique importance to the history and understanding of Modern architecture, and which documents the work of key architects of the 20th Century.

Within that archive are images of compelling photographic power. One can see its holdings via the Esto Stock collection here—and an indication of the depth its holdings can be judged by the fact that it includes nearly 800 photographs of Paul Rudolph’s work; as well as the work of Wright, Saarinen, SOM, Breuer, Meier, Kahn, Aalto, Johnson, Warnecke, Mies, and numerous others.

ESTO also continues to be the home of a group of professional. design-focused photographers who work in Stoller’s tradition of clarity, expressive imagery, and compelling vision—whether capturing a building complex, a set of interiors, or singular objects. At their website, one can can see these photographers’ portfolios.

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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:

Ezra Stoller photographing Paul Rudolph: photo by Judith York Newman, © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Cover of “Paul Rudolph: The Florida Houses”: from the Amazon page for that book; Photo portrait of Paul Rudolph, with the Yale Art & Architecture Building in the background: photograph by Ezra Stoller;  Cover of “The Yale Art + Architecture Building”: from the Amazon page for that book;  Cover of “Ezra Stoller: Photographs of Architecture”: from the Amazon page for that book;  Cover of “Modern Architecture: Photographs by Ezra Stoller”: from the Amazon page for that book;  Cover of “Ezra Stoller, Photographer”: from the Amazon page for that book;  Cover of “Ezra Stoller: A Photographic History of Modern American Architecture”: from the Amazon page for that book;  Esto page with Stoller portrait and Salk photo: screen capture from Esto website

Celebrating RICHARD NEUTRA

To be on the cover of TIME Magazine is to be identified as one of the most important persons in your field. While most of TIME’s covers are devoted to the dramatic news of the week or political figures, they also include people of cultural importance—even, occasionally, architects. Above is a screen-grab of a Google Image Search for “‘Time Magazine’ cover architects”—and you can see that the magazine’s editors chose some of the most influential practitioners of the 20th Century, including Le Corbusier, Wright, Fuller, Saarinen, and Johnson—and among them is RICHARD NEUTRA (second row from top, second from right). NOTE: To be chosen is a rare honor, for in the 56 years between Time’s founding in 1923 and 1979, only 14 architects appeared on their covers—no more than an average of once in four years. [There’s been academic attention to the phenomenon, like this article and this one, looking at its meaning in a larger cultural/political context.]

WE CELEBRATE THE RECENT BIRTHDAY OF ARCHITECT RICHARD NEUTRA

Richard Neutra (1892–1970) was a vital part of that generation, early in the 20th Century, which created and spread Modern Architecture in the USA. He was active for more than four decades of practice, and helped to infuse European Modernism (what would later be called the International Style) into American design—as well as extending the realm of architecture through is own creative explorations and contributions.

Neutra had a rich career, designing buildings for almost every type of client: government, educational, military, commercial, and religious—but he is probably most well known for his many residential designs, starting in the late 1920’s—and particularly in Southern California.

The Lovell “Health” House, designed by Richard Neutra

The most famous of these is his Lovell “Health” House of 1929, which is dramatically perched in the hills of Los Angeles (in the Los Feliz area).

This house—like much of Neutra’s work—embodies many of the best values of Modern design: openness, innovative use of materials, an intensely focused attention to the client’s needs, sensitive siting, an embrace of the outdoors, and an overall light touch. The Lovell House is part of the Historic American Buildings Survey, as well as being on the US National Register of Historic Places, and on the list of Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monuments in Hollywood, (which includes the neighborhood of Los Feliz, and several other areas)—a list created by the city's Cultural Heritage Commission.

Perhaps Richard Neutra’s other most-known residential work of is the Kaufman Desert House in Palm Springs, from 1946. It was designed for the Kaufman family—the same client as Frank Lloyd Wright’s for Fallingwater. While the house has its own inherent beauty—from the qualities which Neutra put into it—it also became famous as the site of one of society-celebrity photographer Slim Aarons’ iconic photograph, “Poolside Gossip” (which was featured on the cover of one of his books, “Slim Aarons: Women.”)

The Kaufman Desert House in Palm Springs, California, a Richard Neutra design of 1946 — and…

… as it is shown in a famous photo, on the cover of “Slim Arrons: Women”, published in 2016

Richard Neutra was not only a designer, but also an author of well over a dozen books. His many writings consider aspects of architecture, and include his sensitivity to the problems of design, urbanism, our relationship to nature, and issues of siting, planning, and building. Through them all, Neutra is looking towards the human element—and how to build better and more sensitively for our needs.

“Where we have employed our technological progress, it has usually been steered towards a techno-economically motivated standardization, and a frustrating monotony. Architects must have a heart for individuality. If they produce an unidentifiable sameness, they smother the individual and his creativity in a cage of monotony.”

— Richard Neutra

The book, by Arthur Drexler and Thomas Hines, published in association with MoMA’s 1982 Richard Neutra exhibition. It can be read, in full, here.

The work of Richard Neutra has been celebrated by scholars, and in numerous publications and exhibitions.

In 1982, the Museum of Modern Art had the first large-scale exhibition that concentrated almost entirely on his residential designs: “The Architecture of Richard Neutra: From International Style to California Modern” The exhibition was curated by the head of the museum’s Department of Architecture and Design, the pathbreaking Arthur Drexler; and by Thomas Hines, the distinguished architectural historian. In association with the exhibition, MoMA also published a book by Drexler and Hines, which remains a landmark in Neutra studies. You can see installation images of the exhibition here—and gain access to the full text of the Drexler/Hines MoMA book here.

As with Paul Rudolph, Neutra’s buildings have not always been maintained with respect—and some have been sadly lost. The Cyclorama Building at Gettysburg is a prime example. In the late 1950’s, Neutra was commissioned to design a visitors center for the famous Civil War battlefield at Gettysburg. The building would be the home to a distinguished panoramic panting, “The Battle of Gettysburg” (by Paul Philippoteaux), and include an observation deck and visitors services. It was dedicated in 1962 and served a half-century of visitors—before being demolished in 2013. The proposal to demolish it was controversial, and it was not destroyed without a fight, and Dion Neutra (Richard Neutra’s son, and eventually a partner in the Neutra architectural practice) was the most energetic of the Cyclorama’s defenders.

Richard Neutra’s Cyclorama Building at Gettysburg, a visitor and education center at the famous Civil War battlefield, was opened in 1962. After serving generations of visitors, it was, sadly, demolished in 2013. Before demolition, it was documented by the Historic American Buildings Survey (you can see their comprehensive set of drawings and photos here.)

The legacy of of Richard Neutra lives on, through the NEUTRA INSTITUTE FOR SURVIVAL THROUGH DESIGN. Dr. Raymond Richard Neutra is the youngest son of Richard Neutra, and—after a career in science, medicine, and public health—Dr. Neutra is now focused on the legacy of his father and his brother Dion. He serves as the president of the Institute’s board, and is joined on the board (or the family advisory board) by members of the Neutra family, as well as other distinguished members of the community.

The NEUTRA INSTITUTE FOR SURVIVAL THROUGH DESIGN has an important vision—and two prime missions to carry out that vision and embody their values:

Vision:  Surviving in the climate crisis through well-researched design that helps humanity and the planet thrive.

Mission One:  Promoting current research and responsible design

Mission Two: Providing interpretation and stewardship of the Neutra legacy 

We Value:

Promoting and deploying climate-responsive technology and natural features to benefit humanity and the planet.

Listening, researching, and inter-disciplinary teamwork for steady improvement

Evidence-inspired solutions, and learning from our successes and failures

Designing for affordability, social justice, and unique individual needs

Designing for delight

Preserving and learning from designs of the past that exemplified these values

You can learn more about their goals, programs, and activities here.

The sign from outside of the Neutra live-work building—one of the facilities belonging to the organization which promotes research and responsible design, and the interpretation and stewardship of the Neutra legacy: THE NEUTRA INSTITUTE FOR SURVIVAL THROUGH DESIGN

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IMAGE CREDITS

NOTES:

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

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

When/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:

Screen-grab of a Google Image Search for “‘Time Magazine’ cover architects”; Lovell House: credit and further info at Wikimedia Commons;  Kaufman Desert Home: photo by Pmeulbroek, via Wikimedia Commons; Slim Aarons book cover: via Amazon; Richard Neutra book by Arthur Drexler and Thomas Hines: via AbeBooks; Cyclorama Building at Gettysburg: photo by Jay Boucher for the Historic American Buildings Survey, accession number HABS PA-6709-8, via Wikimedia Commons;  Sign from Neutra Institute Museum of Silver Lake: excepted from a photo by Bruce Boehner, via Wikimedia Commons

RICHARD NEUTRA QUOTATION:

Quotation from: “Architects On Architecture: New Directions In America” by Paul Heyer, page 140, Walker And Company, New York, 1966

Celebrating MIES van der ROHE

Mies van der Rohe’s Seagram Building, on Park Avenue in New York City. This photograph is unusual in that it allows us to see the building as-a-whole, in a straight-on elevation view. That’s something almost impossible for a camera to capture in a conventional photograph (and even difficult for the human eye when viewing the building in-person.) But, through artful enhancements, this photographer has allowed us to see the building as a unique objet d’art—perhaps as Mies envisioned it!

CELEBRATING MIES vAN dER ROHE’s 135th BIRTHDAY

It’s no secret that Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (March 27, 1886 – August 17, 1969) is one of the 20th century’s most important architects. But let’s amend and extend that to included the 21st—our—century too, as his influence continues ever onwards.

When, in he mid-1950’s, Phyllis Lambert was seeking an architect for her father’s company’s headquarters building—which all-the-world now knows as the Seagram Building—she considered a large number of names. The candidates ranged from the world-famous (Wright and Le Corbusier) —to— the established (Harrison & Abramovitz and Skidmore, Owings & Merrill) —to— the up-and-coming (Johnson, Saarinen, Pei, and Rudolph—and we wrote about Rudolph’s brief candidacy here). After much research and thought, the architect whom she ultimately arrived at was Mies—and she explained her conclusion with insight and forthrightness:

“Mies forces you to go in. You have to go deeper. You might think this austere strength, this ugly beauty, is terribly severe. It is, and yet all the more beauty in it.”

“The younger men, the second generation, are all talking in terms of Mies or denying him.”

It’s that second point which is pertinent today—even well into a new century. One might love or hate Mies (and all that was created in his wake), but he’s still one of architecture’s compass points: whether we sail toward-or-away from Mies, we still navigate by him.

REVISITING AN ICON

We all know the Barcelona Chair (and its matching stool)—but are you aware of another furniture design whose association with Mies is lesser known—and which, ironically, is an equally famous design? We’ll look at that, below.

Most of us are familiar (maybe too familiar?) with Mies van der Rohe’s most famous designs - the Barcelona Pavilion, Seagram, the Farnsworth House, the Tugendhat house, Crown Hall, the New National Gallery in Berlin, the Monument to Luxemburg and Liebknecht, the Brick Country House, and his now-ubiquitous furniture. While scholars, critics, and philosophers will probably never run-out of things to say about these icons, perhaps it’s time for a “refresh”

The first major monograph on Mies was written by Philip Johnson—who was soon, with his own “Glass House” (done in the Miesian manner) to also become an internationally famous architect. The book was published in association with the 1947 Museum of Modern Art’s retrospective exhibition on Mies van der Rohe’s work.

To do that, we’d like to introduce you to some Mies designs which you may never have heard of—or, if you have come across them, they may be ones to which you’ve not given much attention. Bringing forward these lesser-known works helps rejuvenate in our view of Mies’ already well-studied oeuvre.

Note: Several of these projects were shown in the book MIES VAN DER ROHE, published on the occasion of MoMA’s 1947 exhibition on Mies’ work. While the museum’s press release characterized the exhibit as a “retrospective,” Mies still had two decades of important work ahead of him—and many subsequent books have been written about his oeuvre. Even so, the 1947 volume still has fascinating material (and you can see it in-full here.) Written by Philip Johnson, it remains an significant contribution to studies of Mies and Modernism.

The six projects we’ll look at are:

• TRAFFIC CONTROL TOWER

• NUNS’ ISLAND GAS STATION

• DRIVE-IN RESTAURANT

• FURNITURE—The original “Parsons Table”?

• “CHURCHILL VILLA” (VILLA URBIG)

• REFRESHMENT STAND

TRAFFIC CONTROL TOWER

Mies’ tower design is in high contrast to the ones that had traditionally been used to control vehicular traffic. An example is this Beaux-Arts styled tower from the 1920’s. A distinguished structure (made of bronze,) it was one of seven placed along the center of New York’s Fifth Avenue.

When we hear the term “traffic control tower,” we think of the kind one finds at airports, from which flights are directed to take-off and land. But the term had an earlier use; it also designating tall structures which controlled “traffic”—but that vintage meaning referred to the flow of ground-based vehicles: cars and trucks.

Today, such structures have been replaced with automatic traffic light systems, but (about a century ago) one would see such towers at major traffic intersections—like the example at right, which was situated at New York’s Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street. Police officers, stationed in the booths high above above street level, could accurately see and assess the traffic situation—and then utilize stop-and-go signals to regulate flow.

The design of these towers could range from utilitarian and banal -to- traditional and ornate. This was a new building type, and Mies van der Rohe offered his own Modern design design solution—as seen below. One reason this project is striking is that it almost seems like it could be the result of the Streamline Moderne approach to design. That movement was a cousin to Art Deco—coming later, and embracing an aesthetic of mechanized movement..

With that style’s inclusion of symbolism and ornament, it would be a mode which we’d expect Mies to avoid. Yet Mies’ tower has several of the key characteristics often found in Streamline Moderne designs: sweeping curves (at the front edge); the triplet of parallel lines that’s found so often in Deco/Streamline design (in this case: the railing, which merges into a triad of ribs on the base of the cabin); and an overall sense-of-movement and speed—even while standing still!

Perhaps, considering the overall thrust of Mies’ work, the tower’s non-purist look is why it was excluded it from the “definitive” Mies book mentioned above. Even so, it is a fascinating design—and it is fun to imagine what it would be like if the street intersections of major cities had these towering metallic sentinels.

Mies van der Rohe’s design for an automobile traffic control tower.

NUNS’ ISLAND GAS STATION

Mies’ oeuvre certainly contains the highest level of “building types”—he even built a space for worship (the Carr Memorial Chapel on the campus of IIT)—as well as several monuments/memorials (both built and unbuilt.) He is often quoted as saying ”God is in the details.” That might refer not just to Mies van der Rohe's refined and superbly crafted construction details, but also to the details of the everyday life—including the design of less “noble” types of buildings.

Apropos the first design shown above, we’ll stay with the theme of vehicular traffic. Thus we present Mies’ design for a building of lesser “nobility”—but one that is elegant in conception and execution.

The Nuns’ Island Gas Station was built at the end of the 1960’s as a station for Esso (the firm now known as Exxon.) It is located on Nuns’ Island (an island located in the Saint Lawrence River), and is part of the Canadian city of Montreal. Joe Fujikawa, who worked for Mies, was the project architect. According to an article in the the Journal of the Society for the Study of Architecture in Canada, Fujikawa had been an architectural student of Mies, and later became one of his partners in his Chicago firm, and the local architect overseeing the project was Paul Lapointe. The article reports:

Fujikawa, now 67, still practices architecture in Chicago, and still remembers in detail the 23-year old Nun's Island project. He speaks affectionately about Mies, whom he describes as modest and human, in spite of others' assessment of him as cold and impersonal, like his architecture. Fujikawa noted that Metropolitan Structures [the developer which commissioned the project, as well as other buildings by Mies on the island] had worked with Mies on other projects, so it was natural they called on him to design their Nun's Island buildings. Of the station, Fujikawa stated it "is not very large, and it was never designed to be monumental. Imperial Oil was given the exclusive right to build a service station and they wanted it to be a prototype station, unique among stations."

e-architect gives the following description and speaks of its later use:

The station consists of two distinct volumes, one for car servicing and the other for sales, with a central pump island covered by a low steel roof that unifies the composition. The beams and columns were made of welded steel plates painted black that contrast with the white enameled steel deck and bare fluorescent tubes.

Over the years, the interiors have been modified to incorporate a car wash on the sales side, the finishes, built-in furniture and equipment have been replaced and the custom made pumps removed. It ceased to be commercially operated in 2008 and the city of Montreal listed it as a heritage building in 2009 before initiating the project of a youth and senior activity center.

The conversion was completed in 2011, and the center is now known as “La Station.” The architect of the conversion was Éric Gauthier of FABG—and you can see their page about the project (with photographs of the station’s converted state) here; as well as a news story about it here.

By-the-way: Mies was not the only distinguished architect to take-on the challenge of such auto-oriented building types. Frank Lloyd Wright designed at least two gas stations (one in Cloquet, Minn., and one in Buffalo, NY) as well as an auto showroom in Manhattan; and Paul Rudolph designed a parking garage and a garage manager’s office (both for New Haven).

The Nuns’ Island Gas Station, a design by Mies van der Rohe—which is now used as a community center.

DRIVE-IN RESTAURANT

We associate Mies van der Rohe with rather serious building types: office buildings, banks, schools, monuments, and exquisite residences (wherein one can only imagine lives of great refinement are being conducted!) But Mies did take-on the challenge of more utilitarian buildings (like the IIT campus Heating Plant), and more “democratic” buildings (as we can see, above)—-and what can more for the people than a drive-in, fast-food restaurant!

The design was intended for Indianapolis, and the circumstance of the commission was described by in an article, “Mies van der Rohe and the Creation of a New Architecture on the IIT Campus” by Lynn Becker (Chicago Reader, September 26, 2003). Becker writes:

An unlikely client had provided the precedent for the radical design [of IIT’s Crown Hall]. Lambert [a friend of the architect] describes how Mies was enlisted in 1945 by Indiana movie-house mogul Joseph Cantor to design a fast-food drive-in restaurant that would stand out from the banal clutter along the highway. Mies came up with a dramatically long, lanky building whose interior space was free of columns. Its all-glass walls let the interior glow, drawing diners in from the darkness like bugs to a zapper. The most stunning element was the ingenious structure: a pair of huge open trusses mounted on four thin end columns that spanned the entire length of the building and carried below them a flat slab roof that cantilevered out over the driveway.

The restaurant building was never constructed, but the design has an interesting afterlife: Becker contends that the exposed, raised horizontal structural members—originally proposed for this design—-were the seed for the similarly exposed & prominent structure Mies used for his Crown Hall architecture school building on the IIT campus.

Front view of a model of a drive-in: the Cantor “HIWAY” restaurant, designed by Mies Van der Rohe. The roof is supported by two large open trusses, and the roof plane cantilevers outward.

Mies van der Rohe’s floor plan and elevation of a drive-in: the Cantor “HIWAY” restaurant, circa 1945-1950. The elevation (at the right edge of the paper) shows the broad cantilevering roof. Other than the layout of some of the “back of the house” food preparation areas, the entire design is classically symmetrical.

FURNITURE (The origin of the “PARSONS TABLE”?)

There’s an ancient Roman saying, first appearing in Tacitus—and famously also used by President Kennedy:

The Parsons Table—a furniture “type” with its design distilled to its very essence (this creating a “platonic” or “ur” table)—here shown at the scale of a living room side table.

“Success has many fathers, while Failure is an orphan”

This applies to the PARSONS TABLE, for no genric design has had as much (or as long-lasting) success: it shows-up in every kind of interior, and is capable of endless adaption via variation in size, proportion, and finish. And—like all success stories—there are numerous claims to its authorship:

• Some design historians claim its origin in the thinking of Jean-Michel Frank (while he was teaching at the Parsons design school’s branch in France).

• There’s also evidence of a design like this for children’s furniture by Marcel Breuer, circa 1923, during his time at the Bauhaus.

• William Katavolos, who had taught at the Parsons School of Design in New York City, asserted that students would frequently insert such tables into their project drawings (since it could be conveniently drawn with their T-squares with little effort)—and that a building janitor, seeing so many of these diagrammatic tables in the students’ drawings, went ahead and constructed one.

But— Did Mies have anything to do with its origin?

The MoMA book on Mies shows examples of his famous chair designs (the Barcelona, Tugendhat, and Brno chairs), as well as sketches of some speculative designs for furniture to be made of plastic. But the most intriguing image in the book’s furniture section is the one below. It shows Mies’ couch—a design which became iconic from being seen in endless photos of the interior of Philip Johnson’s Glass House. Shown next to it is what can’t be called anything but a Parsons Table.

The image is dated 1930—and that’s well after Breuer’s 1923 children’s table—but the book doesn’t tell us any more bout this particular piece. While the text makes praising statements about Mies’ furniture, it does not address the table in particular, so we don’t get any information on when Mies started using this form of table . We also see this table design—in larger, taller versions—for other spaces which Mies designed in the same era.

Of course, there was also a constant and lively exchange of design ideas throughout the international design community—and that always makes it hard for historians to ultimately determine who influenced whom. Mies might possibly have seen the design elsewhere, and adapted it. Or perhaps the Parsons Table—a design of platonic essence—was bound to be “discovered” multiple times, by several designers? [This happens repeatedly in scientific and engineering invention—and why not in furniture design as well?] A further question is: Was Lilly Reich (1885–1947)—Mies’ close collaborator on exhibition and furniture design—involved in any way? So: Was Mies van der Rohe the/an originating designer of the Parson Table? That’s remains a question to be explored by design historians. We however, find this image endlessly intriguing.

Mies van der Rohe’s couch design is shown here—and it became famous for its inclusion in Johnson’s Glass House. Next to it is a table that has not often been remarked upon: a design which is usually labeled a “Parsons Table”. Its stripped-back, purist form makes one wonder: How much might Mies van der Rohe have had to do with that design’s origin?

THE “CHURCHILL VILLA” (VILLA URBIG)

Churchill, Truman, and Stalin at the 1945 Postdam Conference. While there, Churchill resided in Villa Urbig.

ABOVE: A vintage view of the front of the Villa Urbig.. BELOW: The house’s ground floor plan. with the main entry located at the bottom-center.

Before Mies launched upon his Modernist career, It is generally known that he designed some traditionally-styled residences. They often have massing or details of interest, and a few of his early (pre-World War One) works—like the Riehl House—have received some greater attention. Mies’ “Churchill Villa” (more formally known as Villa Urbig) has not received as much focus as Mies’ other architectural works, yet it is of historical as well as formal interest.

It is located on the shores of a lake in Potsdam (a municipality which borders on Berlin) and was built from 1915 -to -1917 for Franz Urbig (1864-1944), a prominent German banker—hence the name of house: Villa Urbig. While the house was named after the family which commissioned and originally occupied it, it is more frequently known as the “Churchill Villa”—and that’s because Winston Churchill resided there during the nearby Potsdam Conference—a key meeting, among the leaders of the allies (Churchill, Truman, and Stalin) for planning the post-war world. But Churchill was there for less than ten days. A new Prime Minister had been elected: Clement Atlee, and so Churchill departed the house and that historic conference—and Atlee replaced him at both. Subsequently, the house, which was within the borders of the German Democratic Republic (“East Germany”), was used for guest accommodation and classrooms for an academy. It is now privately owned.

Between the two World Wars, one of the things which Mies focused upon was asymmetrical planning—and this is most clearly manifest in his several layouts for courtyard houses (as well as his celebrated plans of the Barcelona Pavilion and the Tugendhat house.) But Mies never completely abandoned a classical approach to planning—one that relies on symmetrical orderliness—and this can be seen in some of his larger projects for European sites, and in much of the work he did after his emigration to the United States (i.e.: Crown Hall on the IIT campus, and the Seagram Building in New York.) The Urbig Villa is wonderfully planned, and partakes in that classical orderliness: the layout has clarity and is easy to navigate, rooms are generously sized and well proportioned, door and window openings are arranged on axis (“enfilade”), and the most important walls have symmetrical elevations—all features which a careful/caring architect like Mies would bring to his designs, whether they be traditional or Modern. In addition, the exterior elevation, even though it uses traditional and ornamental elements, is handled with Miesian distillation and rigor.

A more recent, color photo of the villa. Though clearly a design which relies on traditional organization, hierarchies, and ornament, the house also shows the geometric discipline and restraint to be found in Mies’ later work. One can even see this in Mies'’ handling of ornament, whose use is contained within a tight grid of frames; and in the intensely simplified pilasters.

REFRESHMENT STAND “TRINKHALLE”

Of all of Mies van der Rohe’s many works, designed over a period of 60 years, perhaps the most surprising for us was the discovery of a little building that he designed in 1932: the “Trinkhalle” in Dessau, Germany. The literal translation of “trinkhalle” is “drinking hall”—but this was really a small refreshment stand (a kiosk), where patrons would go up to the window to place their orders.

MIes was the director of the Bauhaus from 1930, until its closing in 1933. When he started his directorship, the school was still located in Dessau (in its famous complex of buildings designed by Walter Gropius)—but political pressure led Mies to move the school to Berlin in 1932. Before leaving Dessau, the “Trinkhalle” was the only building realized by Mies van der Rohe in Dessau during the time he was associated with school. According to the official website of the Bauhaus Dessau Foundation:

This book, by Helmut Erfurth and Elisabeth Tharandt, is an in-depth study of the history and design of Mies’ intriguing little building.

The idea of having a kiosk in this location came from the city of Dessau’s urban planning authority. It was the Lord Mayor of Dessau himself, Fritz Hesse, who asked Mies van der Rohe to come up with a design, because he considered another work of Bauhaus architecture near the Bauhaus buildings a must—even if it were only a kiosk. Under supervision, Mies’ student Edward Ludwig drew up the plans for the architectonically distinctive Kiosk, which was built in 1932.

The Kiosk was not designed as a standard pavilion, but effectively builds on the two-metre-high garden wall surrounding the Gropius House. From outside the wall, all one sees is a window opening with a roof above it; from inside the garden it cannot be seen. The Kiosk became a point-of-sale for alcohol-free beverages, confectionery, tobacco goods and postcards.

The Kiosk survived the war largely intact, but for unknown reasons it was then demolished in the 1960s and replaced by a fence. With the repair of the urban planning environment of the Masters’ Houses completed in 2014 by Berlin-based architects BFM the kiosk also returned to the junction, reduced to its pure form in a contemporary interpretation.

The Kiosk opened again in June 2016 after having been closed for over 70 years. It has now regained its former function and supplies refreshing drinks and coffee at weekends throughout the summer months.

We are glad that Mies little building survived!

After being closed for nearly three-quarters of a century, Mie van der Rohe’s “Trinkhalle” in Dessau has reopened.

LUDWIG MIES Van Der ROHE, WE WISH YOU A HAPPY BIRTHDAY !

P.S. A LITTLE MORE ON MIES: HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH PAUL RUDOLPH

This snapshot was found in the archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation. We recognized Mies sitting at the right, but what was the occasion?—and whose arm is that coming out of the left side of the photo?) In an earlier article, we looked into this Miesian mystery…

In addition to our article about how Rudolph was, briefly, considered for the Seagram Building commission (mentioned earlier, and which you can see here), we’ve written several other times about the relationship between Mies and Rudolph.

We’ve addressed Paul Rudolph’s appreciation for Mies most profound work, the Barcelona Pavilion; the influence Mies had on Rudolph’s design work; and about a time Mies and Rudolph encountered each other.

You can read those 3 articles through these links:

• Rudolph and Mies’ Barcelona Pavilion

• Rudolph and Mies: Composition and Inspiration

• Rudolph and Mies: A Mystery Solved

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IMAGE CREDITS

NOTES:

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

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

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

CREDITS, FROM TOP-TO-BOTTOM:

Seagram Building: photo by Ken OHYAMA, via Wikimedia Commons;  Barcelona Chair and Stool: photo from moDecor Furniture Pvt Ltd., via Wikimedia Commons;  Cover of 1947 Mies van der Rohe monograph: published by the Museum of Modern Art, in association with their 1947 exhibit on Mies;  Traffic Tower perspective rendering, designed by Mies van der Rohe: original source unknown;  Nun’s Island Gas Station: photo by Kate McDonnell, via Wikimedia Commons;  “HIWAY” drive-in restaurant model, designed by Mies van der Rohe: as shown in the 1947 Mies van der Rohe monograph: published by the Museum of Modern Art, in association with their 1947 exhibit on Mies;  “HIWAY” drive-in restaurant model, designed by Mies van der Rohe: pencil drawing by Mies, in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art;  Parsons Table: Woodwork City;  Couch and Table, as shown in the 1947 Mies van der Rohe monograph: published by the Museum of Modern Art, in association with their 1947 exhibit on Mies;  Churchill, Truman, and Stalin at the Potsdam Conference in 1945: U.S. National Archives and Records Administration, via Wikimedia Commons; Churchill Villa (black & white photo): as shown in the 1947 Mies van der Rohe monograph: published by the Museum of Modern Art, in association with their 1947 exhibit on Mies; Churchill Villa (floor plan): as shown on the archINFORM page devoted to the building; Churchill Villa (color photo): photo by Heike Vogt, via Wikimedia Commons;  Ice Cream Stand: photo by airbus777, via Wikimedia Commons;  Snapshot of Mies van der Rohe, seated at table: from the archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation, © The estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

UPDATE: Still an uncertain future for Rudolph's HURLEY BUILDING in Boston

The Hurley Building—a key part of the Boston Government Service Center complex, designed by Paul Rudolph—as seen from the courtyard. In the below aerial view drawing, also by Rudolph, it is on the left part of the site (enclosed in the oval.)

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

The Boston Government Service Center, as shown in Paul Rudolph’s aerial view drawing. The threatened Hurley Building is approximately enclosed by the red oval.

THE SITUATION—aS IT’S DEVELOPED

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

Shown above is a model of the Boston Government Service Center complex, with the Hurley Building closest to the front-left of the picture (the model also includes Rudolphs design for the unbuilt office tower, rising in the center.) In the background can be seen architectural drawings: an elevation and numerous floor plans. Around the model are key players in the creation of the complex—and Paul Rudolph is standing at far right.

ORIGIN:

• The Boston Government Service Center occupies a large triangular-shaped site in downtown Boston’s “Government Center” area [whose other most well-known modern building is the Boston City Hall.]

• The entire block was designed under the strong leadership of Paul Rudolph.

• Rudolph not only created the complex’s overall plan (the “parti”), but also: the design of each section closely following his direction, vision, and set of architetural standards which he defined. [We’ve addressed the nature of Rudolph’s involvement in our article here.]

• The client was the state of Massachusetts. Approximately 2/3 of the complex was built as Rudolph envisioned it, and those buildings house a variety of vital civic/state functions.

DO NEW PLANS LEAD TO DEMOLITION?

• DCAMM: the state of Massachusetts’ Division of Capital Asset Management and Maintenance) has proposed developing and upgrading the site.

• A key part of their plan is handing-off an integral part of the complex—the HURLEY BUILDING—to a developer.

• That could potentially mean the destruction of all-or-part of HURLEY—a building which is a significant part of the overall complex.

• There have been various reports and meetings (as well as interdepartmental discussions) to present and review the state’s plans—and we’ve published several articles on the the situation, including ones examining and questioning this development project (like this one, which looked at the alternatives the state’s been considering.)

• Several critical letters, statements, and reports have come out: protesting the assumption that demolition is the only path to a positive future for this complex.

• We had the impression that all the feedback DCAMM had received had led to a positive development: they seemed to have become receptive to including preservation as a central tenet of the project.

ABOVE & BELOW: the Report and Appendices, recently issued by DCAMM (the state of Massachusetts’ Division of Capital Asset Management and Maintenance), giving a clearer picture of their intentions for the project. Preservation of the Hurley Building does not seem to be a central tenant of the project.

AND NOW: THE RELEASE OF KEY DOCUMENTS

In February, the department advocating the project, DCAMM, moved the project further along,: issuing its report to the state’s Asset Management Board. Their report summarizes the entire project: it shares the history and statistics they gathered, their planning processes, options considered, costs, goals, anticipated revenues and benefits, private sector participation, responses they’ve gotten (and their responses to them), how the project would be administered, and proposed steps & schedule for implementation—including laws and regulations they want waived. [You can see the full report HERE.]

The most interesting part accompanied their report: a set of Appendices which includes copies of their previous proposals/reports, information on the historical-architectural importance of the building complex, and—most fascinating of all: the feedback they’ve received in the form of letters, surveys, public hearings and meetings, and discussions. The “inputters” are from a wide range of stakeholders: neighbors, agencies, professionals, historians, community groups, historians, consultants, and the preservation community. Key documents include:

• statements from the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

• the MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL COMMISSION’S report on the importance of the building (and their back-and-forth correspondence with DCAMM)

• the BOSTON LANDMARK COMMISSSION’S report on the importance of the building

• DOCOMOMO’s report and assessment

The feedback is mixed: While the above four entities fully document and defend the significance of the Boston Government Service Center buildings (and this is further supported by input from other groups and individuals), not all the feedback was positive: a number of the area’s residents and other groups would be happy to see the building replaced—though there doesn’t seem to be consensus on just what form the replacement should take, or what features it should incorporate. [You can see the full Appendices HERE.]

BUT WHAT DOES IT uLTIMATELY SAY?

The report pretty much sticks to what all of DCAMM’s previous reports have said: they want to go ahead with the development project, and there will be benefits for everybody (i.e.: revenues and cost reductions, efficiencies in the consolidation of government office space, better energy use, greater pedestrian friendliness in-and-around the complex, an improved neighborhood…)—which we acknowledge are all worthy goals.

To do this: They will need to engage a developer, and that “partner” will take over all-or-part of the Hurley building. None of this is necessarily problematic, but the danger lies in the terms under which their development partner will be required to work—-and specifically: how (and how much) of the Hurley Building will be preserved?

THE WEAK SPOT (THE DANGER): NO CLEAR COMMITTMENT TO PRESERVATION

Based on previous communication from DCAMM, we believed they had arrived to include preservation as a central tenet of the project. But—

Reading through their new report, we find only weak indications their intentions in that direction.

Here’s a quote from the report:

“While the majority of commenters advocated building preservation, there were several strong opinions expressed in favor of building demolition. DCAMM intends to express a preference in the RFP for redevelopment schemes that pursue adaptive reuse of the existing building – that is, schemes that retain some or all of the existing building, but include new improvements to modernize what is retained, and address some of the urban design challenges that many of the building’s detractors find so problematic. Given that the site is eligible for listing in the state and local registers of historic places, and that MHC has indicated that it expects DCAMM to prioritize preservation, this compromise is recommended.”

When you hear that “DCAMM intends to express a preference. . . .for redevelopment schemes that pursue adaptive reuse of the existing building – that is, schemes that retain some or all of the existing building, but. . . .” does that give you confidence?

And when they say “. . . .MHC [the Massachusetts Historical Commission] has indicated that it expects DCAMM to prioritize preservation, this compromise is recommended.” it seems to lead one to think that the responsibility for setting the rules on how the project proceeds is the responsibility of the MHC—whereas DCAMM is directing the project.

And look at another:

“. . . .The complex as a whole is admired by fans of Brutalist architecture for its distinct features and its monumental scale, which is in keeping with the dominant role government played in that Urban Renewal era. DCAMM is in consultation with the Massachusetts Historical Commission and preservation advocates on an adaptive reuse approach that respects the significance of the site while allowing for much-needed improvements. Including the “Open Space Improvement Area” in the disposition site is part of that work.”

Note the language of the above segments: It characterizes those who see value in the building as “fans” [just fans?]; and also places the origin of its form in a past era (making it no longer relevant?). It mentions “consultation with the Massachusetts Historical Commission and preservation advocates”—but there’s no clear, strong commitment to actually acting on the recommendations of those focused on the preservation of our cultural-historical heritage.

Finally, an indication of the attitude to the Hurley Building is the way they refer to it, calling it “the asset.” That may possibly be a technical term in the world of real estate and development—but here again language is important in shaping the way we think: this term drives the listener into valuing this architectural work at only the most basic material/financial level.

One of the two site-specific murals, by Constantino Nivola, in the lobby of the Hurley Building. One can get an idea of the overall scale of the mural from the person seen at the bottom of this view.

AND WHAT OF THE ART?

Many have expressed concern about the Hurley Building’s site-specific murals, by the internationally recognized artist, Constantino Nivola. There are two of them in the lobby: they are expansive, colorful, and rich with symbolism.

In their report, DCAMM says that they have:

“. . . .commissioned an art conservation study to enhance understanding of the significance of these murals, and considerations for restoration / relocation, if required. DCAMM intends to make the results of this study available to potential bidders who may find such information useful.”

Does that sound like much of a commitment to preserving them?

TAKE ACTION:

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

• 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.)—and you can sign-up at the bottom of this page.

A corner of the Hurley Building, as seen in Ned Daly’s film, “The Closer You Look”

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IMAGE CREDITS

NOTES:

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

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

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

CREDITS, FROM TOP-TO-BOTTOM:

Hurley Building, corner as seen from the courtyard:  Image courtesy of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, photograph by G. E. Kidder Smith;  Aerial View axonometric drawing of the Boston Government Service Center: by Paul Rudolph, © The estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Model of the Boston Government Service Center, surrounded by key players in the creation of the complex: vintage news photo by Max Kotfila, Library of Congress, LoC Control Number 2020630066;  Cover page of the Report on the Charles F. Hurley Building Development Project: published by  DCAMM: the commonwealth of Massachusetts’ Division of Capital Asset Management and Maintenance;  Cover page of the Appendix to the Report on the Charles F. Hurley Building Development Project: published by  DCAMM: the commonwealth of Massachusetts’ Division of Capital Asset Management and Maintenance;  Nivola mural, in the lobby of the Hurley Building: photograph by Kelvin Dickinson, © The estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation;  Exterior corner of the Hurley Building: a still from the film “The Closer You Look” by director Ned Daly—and for more information on the film, also see our article here.

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

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

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

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

—Official statement by the city of Delray Beach

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

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

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

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

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

BIGGS: CHANGES AND CONTINUITIES

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

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

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

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

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

CHANGES: The POSTIVE INTENTIONS

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHANGES: The RESULTS

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

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

THE CITY OF DEL RAY ISSUED THE FOLLOWING STATEMENT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE INVESTIGATION REPORT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The report offers several conclusions, some key ones being:

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

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

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

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

AUTHENTICITY?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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IMAGE CREDITS

NOTES:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A CASE THAT RAISES QUESTIONS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A REALITY / TRUST DEFICIT

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

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

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

• What’s real ?

• What’s authentic ?

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

• What has integrity ?

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

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

INTEGRITY aND ARCHITECTURE

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

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

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

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

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

PRESERVATION—a pROFESSIONAL APPROACH

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

• standards-setting organizations

• schools

• certifications

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

• journals

• publications

• databases

• government and public engagement

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

PRESERVATION LANGUAGE FOR CLEAR THINKING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CASE STUDIES sHOWING A POSITIVE DIRECTION

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

HEALY GUEST HOUSE (THE “COOCOON” HOUSE)

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

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

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

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

JEWETT ARTS CENTER AT WELLESLEY COLLEGE

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

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

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

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

YALE ART & ARCHITECTURE BUILDING

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

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

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

PRESERVATION: THE ONGOING CHALLENGE

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

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

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

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

These issues are pertinent to the legacy of Paul Rudolph!

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

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

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

WHAT YOU CAN DO

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

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

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

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

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IMAGE CREDITS

NOTES:

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

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

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

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

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

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to great architects ALBERT KAHN & ERICH MENDELSOHN !

Albert Kahn’s Shipfitter’s Shop, Pearl Harbor, Hawaii

Erich Mendelshohn’s Einstein Tower, in Potsdam

SUNDAY, MARCH 21, 2021 WAS THE 152nd BIRTHDAY OF ALBERT KAHN—AND THE 134th BIRTHDAY OF ERICH MENDELSOHN—AND WE CELEBRATE THESE GREAT FIGURES OF MODERN DESIGN

ALBERT KAHN, Architect (1869-1942)

ALBERT KAHN

Can there be too many “Kahns” in Architecture? Not by our accounting! There’s Louis Kahn and Eli Jacques Kahn, and even Kahn & Jacobs (Eli Jacques Kahn’s successor firm, which did some quite interesting work)—all distinguished practitioners and creators. And there’s at least one more significant “Kahn” to add to the list, making a triad of excellence and achievement: Albert Kahn (March 21, 1869 - December 8, 1942).

Kahn’s oeuvre was gargantuan, as was his organization (ultimately growing to hundreds of staff, when he had to handle the creation of numerous war plants for World War II). He and his firm designed and almost unimaginable number buildings, with—to give you an idea of the scale of his oeuvre—more than 1,000 commissions for Ford alone.

Although most appreciated for his industrial structures, his nearly half-century of practice also included a significant number of buildings of other kinds: corporate offices, religious buildings, apartment houses, private homes, civic buildings, performance spaces, memorials, college buildings for a broad range of disciplines (especially at the University of Michigan), banks, and other building types (even an impressive monumental lighthouse!) And though it is Kahn’s “industrial aesthetic” which attracted the eyes of Modern architects, he worked in many other modes—and particularly showed mastery of the classical and deco styles. Indeed, George Nelson (who was a design journalist before launching his own industrial design career) noted the great irony that Kahn considered his traditionally-styled work to be his “real” architecture.

ABOVE: Albert Kahn’s Shipfitter’s Shop, Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. BELOW: Albert Kahn’s Chrysler Corporation Tank Arsenal Plant–Press Shop

[Nelson’s report on that aspect of Albert Kahn’s attitude to architecture is an occasion to point-out something important: While Kahn and his team’s process of designing industrial structures sometimes produced buildings of intensely striking form—ones that continue to be profoundly appealing to the Modern architectural “eye”—that was not their creators’ central goal. Kahn and his designers certainly had an aesthetic sense, but they were primarily problem-solvers. If a building could achieve a pleasing form, they might well have been glad—but such aesthetic results would be largely secondary to a preponderantly engineering-oriented mode of design and planning.]

While immensely successful, Albert Kahn was probably not widely known and appreciated beyond the prime region of his architectural work (Michigan), or outside of the clientele for which he designed buildings in his great specialty: large-scale industrial structures (which might be more geographically dispersed). Moreover, didn’t help his renown that architectural journals published industrial buildings only rather intermittently. That didn’t change until World War II, when professional magazines—joining in the spirit of the war effort—started showing buildings which highlighted the country’s productive capacity. That included the work of the Kahn firm—but he never rose to the level of fame of the architectural superstars of his era.

There was, however, a way in which Kahn’s industrial oeuvre (or at least his type of work) became the subject of the Modern movement’s affection—and that was because it was consistent with that community’s aesthetic and conceptual agendas and preferences. The demonstrably functional forms and spaces which Kahn designed were precisely in-line with Modernist thinking about creating “machines for living”—and Kahn’s buildings’ pared-down architectural palette appealed to their purist aesthetics.

THE IDEALIZATION OF ENGINEERING

One of the sources from which this admiration came from was the ideology of functionalism. Albert Kahn’s buildings looked more like the product of an engineering approach to design (as was, in large part, the case), without any malignant interventions from fussy traditionalist architectural values—or so the European Modernists imagined. The functionalists had great praise for the figure of the Engineer and his products—at least as those manifesto writers conceived him to be: one whose actions and decisions come from crystalline thinking, a creator of logical solutions, and one who would be dismissive of all that was not contributing to the function of factually-determined measures. In Le Corbusier’s view:

“The Engineer, inspired by the law of Economy and governed by mathematical calculation, puts us in accord with universal law. He achieves harmony.”

Among those Modern architects of the “Heroic” period of the 20’s and 30’s, this notion of how architectural problems were to be solved was expressed in its most distilled form by Hannes Meyer (the head of the Bauhaus who succeeded Gropius) in his stark formula:

Architecture = Function x Economy

THE AESTHETIC OF ENGINEERING

ABOVE: A US grain elevator, prominently pictured in Le Corbusier’s 1923 book, “Vers une Architecture.” Its clean, cylindrical geometries would have appealed to Modernists’ eyes—especially Corbusier, with his orientation to Purism. BELOW: The east tower of NYC’s George Washington Bridge—Mies’ candidate for the most beautiful building in New York.

The other reason that Albert Kahn’s work would have pleased the leaders of the Modern movement is the allure of the industrial—which is not just functionalist, but is also part aesthetic.

Industrial buildings (and similarly production-oriented structures) stand in strong contrast to “Buildings that look like buildings” (to use Robert Venturi’s phrase). Factories, water towers, processing facilities, chemical plants, storage tanks, great turbines (and the halls within which they’re made, like the famous AEG Turbine Factory by Behrens), and assemblages of titanic piping and ducts: they have a directness and power—and that gives them an attractive freshness to the eyes of designers who were seeking escape from the weight of centuries of accumulated architectural styles (and also an escape from those styles’ associations with a culture that was felt to be unjust, failed, and ossified.)

Thus the leaders of the Modern movements showed an appreciation for buildings which eschew ornament, which exhibit strong geometries, which celebrate their structural elements, and which are bold in form. Le Corbusier pointed to American grain elevators as platonic examples of what to aim for, writing:

“Thus we have the American grain elevators and factories, the magnificent FIRST FRUITS of a new age. THE AMERICAN ENGINEERS OVERWHELM WITH THEIR CALCULATIONS OUR EXPIRING ARCHITECTURE.”

And Mies van der Rohe, when asked what he thought was the most beautiful building in New York City, cited the George Washington Bridge—a complex of unadorned steel girders, which opened in the Northern part of Manhattan in 1931 (Othmar Ammann, chief engineer).

MIES NEEDS KAHN

Below is the interior of one of the factories which Kahn and his team designed: the Glenn Martin aircraft assembly plant, built in Maryland in 1937. The space, the spans, and the business-like organization of many layers of functional elements is indeed impressive. But….

But look at the below collage—for it is by this image that Albert Kahn’s reputation reached its apotheosis among architects.

It is, of course, one of the most famous images produced by Mies van der Rohe: his vision for a concert hall—created by him in 1942, and depicted using the medium of collage. The background is the same Albert Kahn-designed industrial building as in the photo above. Mies could certainly design buildings and structures that sit solidly (and immovably) upon the ground—-but there’s another, equally powerful motif that can be seen in his work: an urge towards weightlessness, a desire to have the power to make architectural elements levitate. That’s hard to pull-0ff in the real world—but it didn’t stop generations of architects (Mies, Kiesler, numerous Constructivists…) from creating dramatic visions of such possibilities. Here, in Mies concert hall design, the planes which define the musical performance space (and which assist in its acoustics) float or are suspended. It’s a alluring vision of purity, elegance, and even magic—-and it could only be set within a space big-enough to accommodate such architectural ambition. Such a space would need to have strong, long, open spans—a space of the kind which Albert Kahn designed!

Albert Kahn’s oeuvre was large, as was his organization (ultimately growing to hundreds of staff, when he had to handle the creation of war plants for World War II). He and his firm designed multiple-hundreds of buildings, with—to give you an idea of the scale if his work—more than 1,000 commissions for Ford alone.

Below is a selection of his work. As you can see, other than the large interior spaces (so appreciated by Mies), Albert Kahn’s work could appeal to Modernist architectural taste in other ways: the forms, materials, and detailing of his buildings had the boldness, sparseness, engineering feel—all creating an aura of directness and powerful, pure freshness which they sought. Even now, his firm continues onward: Albert Kahn Associates offers their expertise in “. . . .architecture, engineering, interior design, program management, and master planning, and spans through commissioning, business and management needs, strategic facilities planning, value and sustainability analysis.”

Below is a sampling of Albert Kahn’s work—and one can be continually nourished by these examples of design which is simultaneously meticulous in its’ planning and construction method, and yet bold in vision and resultant forms. For these gifts to us—expressions of architectural power emerging from rigorous problem-solving—we are eternally grateful.

Albert Kahn, We Wish You A HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Chrysler-Dodge Half-Ton Truck Plant–Export Building, Detroit

Shipfitter’s Shop Building, Pearl Harbor, Hawaii

Willow Run Bomber Plant-Assembly & Engineering, Detroit

Detail of Chrysler DeSoto Plant–Press Shop, Detroit

Chrysler-Dodge Half-Ton Truck Plant–Assembly Building, Detroit

Chrysler Tank Plant, Warren, Michigan

ERICH MENDELSOHN, Architect (1887–1953)

ERICH MENDELSOHN

ERICH MENDELSOHN (21 March 1887 – 15 September 1953) had a long career which spanned three continents. Often, due to changes in the national and international situations of the countries in which he resided, he moved his home repeatedly: from Germany-to-England-to-Israel-to-America—and started (and restarted) his architectural practice in each of these locations.

A very successful architect, Mendelsohn’s practice encompassed residences, factories, scientific/medical centers, and buildings for recreational, religious, and, academic uses—and, during his time in Germany, he was also prolific as a designer of department stores.

Schocken Department Store, Stuttgart, Germany—showing how strongly (and with what vivacity) it contrasts with the city’s older, traditionally-styled buildings.

Those stores—most done for the Schocken department store chain—were high-profile designs, as they were strikingly Modern (often with prominent areas of curved glazing) and stood in lively contrast to the traditionally styled neighborhoods in which they were set.

But Mendelsohn’s designs were not limited to the zippy-curvy forms (some even verging on Deco/Streamline) with which he has been so strongly identified. Some of his work was gravely rectilinear—and that design tendency seems to have become ever stronger in the latter phases of his career. [Though his ability to use emphatic, non-orthographic forms was never blotted out—especially in his later work on religious buildings.]

The single work-of-architecture for which he is most famous is not geometric at all. Labeled as “Expressionist,” it relies neither on the right angles nor on the circles (or segments of circles) with which he composed most of his other works. Instead, it comes-off as a sculpture of freely-flowing curves (though symmetrically allocated). We are, of course, referring to Mendelsohn’s Einstein Tower (“Einsteinturm”) in Potsdam, Germany.

This building—which seems to grow and flow with the organic pulse of a living creature—was made for rigorous scientific research in physics. The earliest conceptions for it dated to 1917, and it was completed and ready-for-operation in 1924. It was constructed to house a solar telescope, with the intention of using the facility’s scientific instrumentation to help prove -or- invalidate Einstein’s theory of relativity. [Einstein didn’t work there, but he supported the project, and characterized the building as “organic.”] It is still in use as a solar observatory.

Below is a sampling of Erich Mendelsohn’s work—and we are continually nourished by such exemplars of vivid design. For these gifts to us—life-filled expressions of architectural creativity!—we are eternally grateful.

Erich Mendelsohn, we wish you a HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

The De La Warr Pavilion, at Bexhill on Sea, England; designed in collaboration with Serge Chermayeff.

Mossehaus in Berlin

Park Synagogue, Cleveland Heights, Ohio

Schocken Department Store, Chemnitz, Germany

Krasnoe Znamya factory-Power Plant, Russia

Petersdorff department store in Wroclaw, Poland

Haus des Deutschen Metallarbeiterverbandes, Berlin

A poetic portrait of the Einstein Tower in Potsdam, Germany, with a bow sundial in the foreground.

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IMAGE CREDITS

NOTES:

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

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

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

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

Shipfitter's Shop interior: HABS photo, within the collection of the Library of Congress, via Wikimedia Commons;  Einstein Tower: © Astrophysikalisches Institut Potsdam, via Wikimedia Commons;  Albert Kahn photo portrait: Fair Use, via Wikimedia Commons;  Shipfitter's Shop interior: HABS photo, within the collection of the Library of Congress, via Wikimedia Commons;  Chrysler Corporation Tank Arsenal Plant–Press Shop: vintage photo, source unknown (see general notes above); Vers une Architecture: page from vintage book, published in 1923, (see general notes above); George Washington Bridge: photo by Beyond My Ken, via Wikimedia Commons; Glenn Martin plant interior: vintage photo, source unknown (see general notes above);  Mies van der Rohe collage: vintage image, source unknown (see general notes above);  Chrysler-Dodge Half-Ton Truck Plant–Export Building, Detroit: vintage photo, source unknown (see general notes above);  Shipfitter’s Shop Building, Pearl Harbor, Hawaii: HABS photo, within the collection of the Library of Congress, via Wikimedia Commons;  Willow Run Bomber Plant-Assembly & Engineering, Detroit: vintage photo, source unknown (see general notes above);  Chrysler-Dodge Half-Ton Truck Plant–Assembly Building, Detroit: vintage photo, source unknown (see general notes above);  Chrysler Tank Plant, Warren, Michigan: vintage photo, source unknown (see general notes above);  Erich Mendelsohn photo portrait: photographer unknown, via Wikimedia Commons;  Schocken Department Store, Stuttgart, Germany: photo by Manfred Niermann, via Wikimedia Commons;  The De La Warr Pavilion, Bexhill on Sea, England: photo by Dr-Mx, via Wikimedia Commons;  Mossehaus in Berlin: photo by Fred Romero, via Wikimedia Commons;  Park Synagogue, Cleveland Heights, Ohio: photo by stu_spivack, via Wikimedia Commons;  Schocken Department Store, Chemnitz, Germany: photo by Altsachse, via Wikimedia Commons;  Krasnoe Znamya factory-Power Plant, Russia: via Wikimedia Commons; phot by Rones, via Wikimedia Commons;  Petersdorff department store in Wroclaw, Poland: photo by Volens nolens kraplak, via Wikimedia Commons;  Haus des Deutschen Metallarbeiterverbandes, Berlin: photo by Alex1011, via Wikimedia Commons;  Einstein Tower: photograph by DrNRNowaczyk, via Wikimedia Commons

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

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

AN ACCELERATING RATE OF DESTRUCTION

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

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

• Burroughs Wellcome: DEMOLISHED

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

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

• Niagara Falls Main Library: THREATENED

• Boston Government Service Center: THREATENED

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

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

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

THE LATEST DESTRUCTION OF A RUDOLPH BUILDING

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

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

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

But—

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

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

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

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

SERIOUS QUESTIONS

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

• What were their compelling reasons?

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

• What alternatives were considered?

• Could there have been other approaches?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE AESTHETICS (AND DRAMATICS) OF STRUCTURE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE PRACTICALITIES OF COMFORT AND CONVENIENCE

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

The main (upper) floor contained:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

• Additional storage or mechanical space (always useful)

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

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

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

FURTHER DEVELOPMENTS (AND WHAT YOU CAN DO)

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

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

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

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IMAGE CREDITS

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

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

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

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

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