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.

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

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.

The Plan's The Thing: Comparing the Plans of Master Architects (including Rudolph)

COMPARING ARCHITECTS: DIFFICULT AND DANGEROUS

Trying to compare architects (or more precisely: comparing their bodies of work) is a dangerous game—for the challenge immediately brings up a number of thorny, imponderable questions:

Balancing the factors to be judged, as listed at left, is part of the challenge.

• Where would one begin?

• What exactly is one comparing? [Technical mastery? Efficient planning? Aesthetic delight? Spatial variation? Contextual sensitivity? How much they changed the direction of architectural history? Diversity of building types? Energy efficiency? The satisfaction of their clients?. . . ]

• If one is looking for an assessment of overall excellence, judging on a multi-factorial basis (including the above items), how does one balance and weight the factors?

• For each factor, hat would one measure?

• On what scale would one measure?

• Is the notion of “measurement” meaningful in this domain?

• Who are to be the judges?'

• What values do the judges (the ones doing the comparing) bring to their decision-making?

All of these questions become ever more fraught in the context of our present culture, one whose behavior vibrates between two modes: pluralist, permissive non-judgementalism -vs- abrupt severity when making judgements. In architectural matters, we often feel sure of the rightness of our assessments (even the ones offered off-the-cuff) —yet we can crumble if ever asked to seriously and patiently address the questions of Who are we to judge? and Where do our standards originally derive from?

THE UNAVOIDABLITY OF JUDGEMENT

Philip Johnson: “We cannot Not know history” —a point which Johnson and Rudolph could both agree upon (but these long-time friends each used that lesson in very different ways.)

Paul Rudolph’s friend, Philip Johnson once scandalized the Modern architecture community by asserting:

“WE CANNOT NOT KNOW HISTORY.”

When offered, at mid-century, it seemed an outrageous claim. At that time many architects believed that (with the advent of Modernism) architecture had left history behind as something irrelevant to current practice.

[By-the-way: Johnson’s claim is one which we believe Rudolph would have agreed with—though with his own, very different ideas about what to do with such historical knowledge.]

Just as Johnson is reminding us that history is something that an honest and cultured architect cannot pretend to ever transcend, we also cannot pretend that we are exempt from making judgements—however difficult it is to try to make them.

Not only is it in our nature to offer judgement, but we are constantly called upon to do so in numerous domains and occasions, as when we are selecting collaborators, teaching, assessing what’s worth preserving, participating in juries, and prioritizing what to focus upon when working on a design (including where to allocate the budget). Most consequent of all judgements is when a client, about to enter upon a building project, makes the judgement about which architect to select for the commission. So we can make a parallel assertion to Johnson’s:

WE CANNNOT NOT MAKE JUDGEMENTS

—and, since in our education, work, and personal development, we model ourselves after the designers we admire, that inevitability of judgement applies to architects: we’ll never stop comparing them.

MAKING THE TASK A LITTLE LESS IMPOSSIBLE

Even though we’ll never stop trying to compare architects (judging their relative worth), we’ll never arrive at a broadly agreed-upon method for making “final and ultimate” assessments—and that’s owing to the fact that the scales-of-value shift in each era, as does the culture’s changing mood about what it finds interesting or crucial.

So the task is impossible—and even if it wasn’t impossible, it would be overwhelming because there are too many factors to consider. The good news is that the path is sometimes made a bit smoother for us by researchers who focus-in on a single aspect of architecture. By doing so—by showing how various architects have dealt with a specific issue—-these writers bring some clarity to the discussion. The seeming narrowness of their investigations calms the storm of mental overwhelm, and opens-up space for clearer thinking.

An excellent example is the work done by Kevin Bone and his associates, shown in the book “Lessons from Modernism,” which looked at the various ways that Modern architects—Wright, Aalto, Bo Bardi, Niemeyer, , Rudolph, and others—dealt with environmental issues, especially how they handled solar loads.

Lessons from Modernism, edited by architect and educator Kevin Bone, focused on strategies several prominent architects used when dealing with environmental concerns—especially solar loading. Two of Rudolph’s houses are analyzed in the book, and his Walker House is shown above.

Another example of this type of highly focused study are books which highlight the use of a particular architectural material (i.e.: glass, concrete, ceramics, metalwork…) and show a banquet of photos and drawings of how various architects used and detailed them. “Design With Glass” and the two-volume “Aluminum in Modern Architecture” (see image at right), both by architectural writer John Peter, are classic examples of such books from the “mid-century Modern” period—and the one he wrote about glass included Paul Rudolph’s Jewett Arts Center at Wellesley College.

COMPARING ARCHITECT’S PLANS

Hideaki Haraguchi’s book— A COMPARITIVE ANALYISIS OF 20TH-CENTURY HOUSES — is in this tradition of studies which concentrate on one aspect of architectural creation. The author focuses-in on floor plans designed by the most prominent and creative architects of the Modern period—and he shares his research and conclusions in three illuminating ways:

• Chapter essays (“Tripartite Composition”, “The English Tradition”, “Towards Universal Space”…) about the various families of approaches used in the the design of house plans—richly illustrated with many examples from each era

• An extensive timeline, from the 1400’s to the 1980’s, showing transformations in the design of residential plans—with examples of representative plans inserted within the chart

• Numerous illustrations of the houses, based of the plans: over 100 axonometric drawings

Paul Rudolph’s work is cited in the chapter in which the author analyzes how Mid-century designers began to depart from the use of the “Universal Space” concept for residential planning (an approach which had previously been favored among Modern architects.)

The book includes a fold-out timeline to show the evolution in Modern architects’ approaches to residential planning. Rather than just name the architects (or the houses), the author places small images of the each of the plans on the chart—a graphically helpful method.

GRAPHIC AND SPATIAL ANALYSIS

The author’s depiction of two levels of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Robie House—one of the numerous drawings in the book which use the axonometric drawing technique to convey spatial quality as well as the plan layout.

The author, via those 3 ways of telling the story of the changes in house design, offers rich insights into master architects’ planning philosophies, techniques, and styles—and the historical context in which they operated.

But the real glory of this study are the abundance of drawings which the Haraguchi created for the book. These drawings show the plans, but also convey a sense of the each house’s spaces by also showing the walls, columns, and window & door openings—and the author does this in through axonometric drawings.

That’s a type of drawing where it looks like the walls are being extruded upward from the plan—so it an axonometric drawing not only shows the layout of the rooms, but also tangibly suggests the type of spaces which the layout gives rise to. [Although Paul Rudolph was known as a master of perspective drawing, he sometimes also utilized the axonometric drawing technique—and we posted an article about that here.]

In addition to using this explanatory drawing technique, Haraguchi’s drawings are reproduced as white images on a black background. This not only evokes the authority of traditional architectural blueprints, but this graphic approach also adds a sense of visual drama which focuses the reader’s attention.

RUDOLPH, IN WHITE ON BLACK

Those drawings are the real treasures of this book. Using that technique, Haraguchi drew over 100 axonometric plans of house designs, by forty-five 20th Century architectural masters, including:

Wright, Hoffmann, Lutyens, Niemeyer, Taut, Sharoun, Le Corbusier, Rietveld, van Doesburg, Chareau, Mies, Breuer, Neutra, Kahn, Venturi, Eisenman, Tigerman, Botta, Rossi—and Rudolph!

Paul Rudolph is represented by houses designed across a quarter-century of his prolific career—from the 1948 Siegrist Residence -to- the 1972 Micheels Residence. The author gives emphasis to one of Rudolph’s finest designs: the Milam Residence of 1959, showing both levels of the house.

The two-page spread wherein Haraguchi explores—via axonometric drawings—three of Rudolph’s house designs. LEFT-HAND PAGE: the 1959 Milam Residence (showing both levels.) RIGHT-HAND PAGE: the 1972 Micheels Residence (shown lower-left), and the 1948 Siegrist Residence (shown upper-right.)

A closer view of the page with the Haraguchi’s drawings of Rudolph’s Milam Residence in Ponte Verda Beach, Florida. It shows the house’s two levels, and the use of axonometric drawings convey information not only abut the layout of the rooms, but also about how the walls, windows balconies (and double-height planning) shape the interior spaces.

THE POWER OF COMPARISONS

Brian Sewell was one of Britain’s most perceptive art critics (and one of the most controversial.) In this powerful video segment, about developing one’s aesthetic sense, he cites the effective use of comparison.

Comparison can be a powerful tool—especially when a scholar provides opens up the question by providing materials which allow us to intensely focus-in on an aspect of architectural design.

Brian Sewell (1931-2015), the British art critic known for his fiery opinions, as well as the depth and sensitivity of his knowledge, spoke inspiringly about the importance of comparison—what he called “a repeat experience”—for developing a deeper sense of what’s significant and beautiful. He was speaking of painting and sculpture—and the same approach can be applied to the art of architecture.

For gaining an in-depth knowledge of the approaches that were used in designing the Modern masterworks of residential architecture—how such strategies evolved, varied, an reflected larger issues and philosophies in the architecture of that century—Hideaki Haraguchi’s A Comparative Analysis of 20th-Century Houses is an indispensable resource, guide and well of insight. That he included several examples of Paul Rudolph’s work is additional evidence of the author’s wisdom.

Returning to our original theme—the difficulty of comparing architects—and the multiple obstacles entailed in such a task: this book’s concentrated examination of a single aspect of architects’ work is the sort of study that can aid—via its focus and profound clarity—in making such challenging assessments.

BOOK INFORMATION AND AVAILABILITY:

• TITLE: A Comparative Analysis of 20th-Century Houses

• AUTHOR: Hideaki Haraguchi

• PUBLISHER: In Great Britain: Academy Editions; In the US: Rizzoli International

• FORMAT: Paperback, 11-1/2” x 11-1/2”, 92 pages, hundreds of illustrations

• YEAR OF PUBLICATION: Great Britain: 1988; US: 1989

• ISBN: 0-8478-1023-2

• AMAZON PAGE: here

• ABEBOOKS PAGE: here

A broader view of the timeline in Haraguchi’s book, in which the author traces the evolution of architects’ residential planning over the course of the several centuries. Plans, representative of changing philosophies of design, are inserted into the chart—aiding the clarity of the presentation.

IMAGE CREDITS:

Balance scale: photo by Poussin jean, via Wikimedia Commons; Photo portrait of Philip Johnson: photograph by Carl Van Vechten, from the Van Vechten Collection at the Library of Congress

How Architects See (LITERALLY)

HOW TO SEE (AND WHO’S NOT SEEING)

Though one of America’s most famed and sought-after designers, George Nelson (a contemporary of Paul Rudolph), who worked on industrial design and architecture commissions for well-known clients—was frustrated. He found that his clients—the leaders of major institutions and corporations—just couldn’t see.

The statue of Minerva presides over the drafting room in Paul Rudolph’s Yale Art & Architecture Building. Photo by Julius Shulman.© J. Paul Getty Trust. Getty Research Institute, Los Angeles.

Yes, they could see well enough to drive a car or hit a golf ball, but the visual distinctions which architects and designers make—the vibrancy with which they apprehend the world, which in-turn allows them to create objects and environments of vivid creativeness—were lost on almost everyone outside of the design community (including many of Nelson’s clients).

Visual awareness of the world (beyond the most basic needed to function) was virtually non-existent for most of the people for whom Nelson was working. Taking-on this challenge like a design-problem, he developed various tools: presentations, reports, and eventually a book—"How To See”—to try to introduce non-designers to a the way architects, designers, and artists see the world around them.

[There’s an interesting convergence between Rudolph and Nelson: the figure on the cover of Nelson’s book, How To See, bears a striking resemblance to the statue of Minerva, the goddess of wisdom—the sculpture which Paul Rudolph chose as the focus for the main interior of his Yale Art & Architecture Building.]

CONSEQUENCES

There are serious consequences to this mass un-seeing: decision-makers who own or determine the future of Rudolph-designed buildings—who may have little ability to see and discern those buildings’ true value—have sometimes opted for changes that are not sympathetic with Rudolph’s architecture, or they’ve even decided for wholesale demolition.

Those who seek to preserve great architecture—one of the central missions of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation—go up against this “unseeing” every day. So there is a continuous need for a “How to See” campaign, to open the vision of non-designers to the splendors and value of the visual-architectural world.

Wright was undeniably a man of great style, controlling his image though an ongoing program of self-generated publicity. He’s hardly ever shown in photographs wearing glasses—yet toward the end of his life he was captured with them, as shown in this article from a late 1950’s issue of Architectural Record. Courtesy of: US Modernist Library.

BUT WHAT HELPS ARCHITECTS TO SEE?

One could argue that architects have no problem with appreciating the visible world. Indeed, they embrace it with the perceptual equivalent of a craving appetite. But what happens when their own ability to see—their acuity of vision—begins to literally falter?

What happens is: Glasses—and, if you can count on anything, it’s this: architects (and their colleagues: designers and artists) will not be content with just any pair of glasses. What they seek is a personal style which fully expresses their overall design vision, including their self-image—and that extends to their choice of glasses.

And what’s more expressive of the Modern spirit than that purist, platonic, and machine-like design: the Circle.

[Note: We’ve had an article on Rudolph’s focus of the circle in his design work—Paul Rudolph and Circular Delight—which you can read HERE.]

THE LE CORBUSIER LINEAGE

The origin-point of the “lineage” of architects adopting the perfect circle for their eyeglasses seems to start with Le Corbusier. Like Wright, he was strategic about his self-presentation—from the layout of his many publications -to- the details of his attire. As the exponent of mechanization in the conception of buildings (“The house is a machine for living.”), and geometric Purism in art, it’s natural that he’d choose circular eyeglasses—and they became his personal signature.

Le Corbusier, wearing the circular eyeglasses which became his his personal signature. Left, his glasses have relatively thin frames outlining the lenses. Above, he’s shown with the thicker frames with which he is more frequently associated. Photos courtesy of Wikipedia

THEN JOHNSON…

The next step in the lineage seems to be Philip Johnson. In Mark Lamster’s fascinating biography of Johnson—The Man in the Glass House: Philip Johnson, Architect of the Modern Century—he speaks of Johnson’s adopting the Corbusian eyewear by the mid-1960’s:

“. . . .Philip Johnson was happily stepping into the role of ‘Philip Johnson,’ a public persona that he cultivated and refined, now augmented by the owlish glasses that he had begun to wear, another borrowed statement, this time from Le Corbusier. . . .”

Architect Philip Johnson (1906-2005), photographed late in his life—and still wearing the Corbusian circular glasses that he had adopted as part of his image, much earlier in his career. Photograph by B. Pietro Filardo, courtesy of Wikipedia.

A scan of the New York Review of Books web-page with the opening of Martin Filler’s review of Lamster’s biography of Philip Johnson. On that page was David Levine’s caricature of Johnson—featuring his Corbusian glasses—and a forehead evocative of the broken pediment of Johnson’s AT&T Building.

I. M. Pei—the famous architect also chose the circular glasses style. Image courtesy of Wikipedia.

AND THEN PEI…

The next prominent architect who was widely noted for wearing the circular style of eyeglasses was I. M. Pei. Photographs of Pei, throughout his long and prolific career, show him wearing them, generally with black (or dark) frames. But in this late photograph, from 2006, he’s shown with medium-thickness, tortoise-shell frames (instead of the more Corbusian black ones.)

AND RUDOLPH-IAN ROUNDNESS…

At this point, we have to bring in Paul Rudolph, He wore a number of different styles of glasses (mainly with strong-looking black frames)—but seems to have settled on the circular Corbusier style as his glasses-of-choice.

Indeed, Paul Rudolph appears to have become attached to using that style alone— We’ve heard an anecdote about this from a fellow who had a friend who worked for Rudolph: he encountered his friend on the street, carrying an armful of those circular glass frames. The friend explained: Paul Rudolph had heard that those round frames might go out of production—so Rudolph sent his employee to the glasses shop to buy-out the entire stock of that design!

The collections of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation includes several pairs of Rudolph’s eyeglasses—including the an example of the circular style (the right-most one in the above photograph). © The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation Archives

CIRCULAR CIRCULATION…

After the initiation of this lineage, and its first generations of adherents— Le Corbusier > Johnson > Pei > Rudolph—it’s not hard to find these geometric glasses spreading among architects. Nicholas Grimshaw is among the more famous wearers of the style—and, if one re-defines the net to a wider circle of the creative class, we’d be amiss to not mention the circular glasses which have become a trademark of artist David Hockney.

Before leaving the topic, we want to note three more truly historic figures—who, like Paul Rudolph, have altered the course of architecture—all of whom are adherents of the circular style in eyewear: Peter Cook, Denise Scott Brown, and Peter Eisenman.

Peter Cook. Photo by CRAB, courtesy of Wikipedia.

Peter Eisenman. Photo by Columbia GSAPP, courtesy of Wikipedia.

Denise Scott Brown. Photo by Columbia GSAPP, courtesy of Wikipedia.

P.S. WAS LE CORBUSIER REALLY THE FIRST?

Who really first initiated the circular eyeglasses style, among architects, might be—ultimately—an unsettleable question.

We do have these intriguing photos of the architect Julia Morgan (1872-1957), and her contemporary Hans Poelzig (1869-1936). Both of their lives overlapped Le Corbusier’s—but more relevant is that both their careers started well before Corbusier’s—and one might reasonably propose that Morgan’s and Poelzig’s sense of personal style (including eyewear?) coalesced before Corb’s.

Julia Morgan (1872-1957.). A skilled architect who worked on a variety of building types, is best remembered for her her design of the Hearst Castle complex. It’s hard to tell, in this vintage photo, if her glasses were perfectly circular—but if not, they were certainly close to that geometry. Photo courtesy of Wikipedia.

The architect Hans Poelzig (1869-1936). In both images—him at work (above), or in a more formal portrait (at right)—he is pictured wearing eyeglasses which embrace the purist circular geometry. Here he is photographed circa 1927 by Alexander Binder Both photos of Poelzig (above and right) are courtesy of Wikipedia.

Poelzig’s design work could be dreamlike and fanciful, or severely functionalist—but he always showed an appreciation of the power of geometry. That concern extends even to his his personal appearance. Photograph by M.E.

Moreover, circular forms for eyeglasses go back to the beginnings of corrective eyewear—-the circular form of lenses being easier to shape (grind). Finally, one should always recall the eternal power and fascination of that perfect form, the circle—something that has has eternally fascinated philosophers and designers!

ROLLING FORWARD WITH THE THE CIRCULAR STYLE…

If you want to join with Le Corbusier, Paul Rudolph, and Denise Scott Brown in wearing the circular style, then fear not: there are abundant examples on the the market. In fact, just putting “architect’s circular eyeglasses” into an internet search box will yield results like this, or this below—

CIRCULAR CINEMA

And, if you want to revel in the way that the circular eyeglasses mode has been integrated—with humorous thoroughness—into the conventions of architectural attire, you’ll enjoy “MISTER GLASSES”—a series of short films created by Mitch Magee.

Magee is a writer, director, producer, and actor—and he adroitly applied all those talents (in collaboration with a talented ensemble) in creating this series. Mitch Magee also plays the eponymous Mister Glasses—a character whose authentic concern for others is mixed (in a wonderfully strange way) with a lack of visible emotional affect.

Each of the brief-but-sharp episodes brings the main character and his team into a series of architecturally-related preachments. But the humor—and perhaps the point—of the series emerges not so much from the plots, but rather in the way that Magee shows (and caricatures) the ways that Modern architects think and respond to the world.

One of the joys of the series is the way that Mister Glasses is portrayed as the quintessential Modern architect—“Modern” in the particular sense of adamantly adhering to the classic palette of the International Style. But he also continually manifests that strand of Modernism in a highly personal way: he conveys, in his manner, speech, and self-presentation, a sense that he’s living in a Platonic world—or at least aspires to. Thus Mister Glasses’ speech verges on clipped, his suits are consummately tailored and maximally restrained in style (much like Mies van der Rohe’s), and—of course!—he wears platonically circular glasses.

AND IN RETROSPECT…

Eyeglasses (circular and otherwise) have been an everlasting motif in art—and this is delightfully studied in LENS ON AMERICN ART: The Depiction and Role of Eyeglasses. Richly illustrated, and beautifully published by Rizzoli/Electra, art historian John Wilmerding delves into the many occurrences, uses of, and varied possible meanings of eyeglasses, as they show up in American art. Enthusiasts of the circular mode in eyeglasses will be glad to know that a notable number of examples of their favorite style are shown in his delightful book.

John Wilmerding’s book, LENS ON AMERICAN ART: The Depiction and Role of Eyeglasses, includes numerous examples of the circular eyeglasses style in artworks made throughout American history. The author, shown above, has given an interview about the book, which was published by Rizzoli/Electra on the occasion of an exhibition at the Shelburne Museum. This insightful book can be ordered directly through the publisher.

Celebrating The Half-Century of a Modern Classic: “New Directions in American Architecture”

The cover of a much coveted book. Robert A. M. Stern’s 1969 survey and assessment offered an intelligent and concise (and well illustrated) overview of the main pathways of then-current American architecture—and the work of its most prominent practitioners (including Paul Rudolph).

A GOLDEN ANNIVERSARY

It’s hard to believe, but New Directions in American Architecture, the landmark book by Robert A. M. Stern, came out a half-century ago. First published in 1969 (with a new, enlarged edition in 1977) it is worth acknowledging and celebrating a work that was so intensely studied, discussed, and turned-to for inspiration by architecture students and professionals. It was a book that made a difference.

A WORTHY PREDECESSOR

Paul Heyer (1936-1997) was a New York-based architect, educator, and author—and his colleagues and students remember him as the most urbane of Englishmen. His 1966 book, “Architects on Architecture” was later published in an expanded edition in 1993.

For context, we note another book which covered an overlapping range of work (and—at least partially—of the same era): Paul Heyer’s Architects on Architecture: New Directions in America.

Heyer’s book came out in 1966, a few years before Stern’s New Directions, and—while the territory had similarities (both showing what was being built in America, and by whom)—the material covered, and the manner it was covered, was different. Heyer’s book was, in its way, more comprehensive: it had individual chapters on many of the architects that Stern would write about—but it also included a profusion of talented, prolific American architects who would get hardly a mention (if named at all) in Stern’s book (i.e.: John Carl Warnecke, Hugh Stubbins, Craig Elwood, William Wurster…). It also had sections on architects like Mies van der Rohe and Walter Gropius—forefathers of architectural Modernism—who were, at the time of publication, still alive and practicing.

What Heyer had created could be characterized as an informationally (and visually) rich grand survey—and the book remains fascinating to dip into, and is a fine resource for researchers.

Subsequently, Paul Heyer brought out a different study: “American Architecture: Ideas and Ideologies in the Late Twentieth Century,” which looked at a similar (though updated) set of architects, and examined their work through formal./stylistic/ordering themes.

STERN’S BOOK: THE GO-TO GUIDE TO WHAT WAS HAPPENING—AND WHO THE PLAYERS WERE

A page from New Directions in American Architecture, on which are illustrated designs for the Boston City Hall. At top is Mitchell, Giurgola’s second prize-winning entry (shown in a perspective drawing); below is Kallmann, McKinnell, and Knowles winning entry (shown under construction).

In contrast to Heyer’s more encyclopedic approach, Stern’s book was focused on the Now, and—just as important—the meaning of what was shown (and how those meanings might propel the design process.0 New Directions in American Architecture offered a compelling report—and provisional assessment—on the cultural churning then happening within the world of architecture, which was an era of crisis, excitement, and creativity in all domains of modern life.

Yes, several prominent architects of the post-WWII generation (like Philip Johnson and Paul Rudolph) were included—and received respectful coverage of the their work. But one can speculate that it was necessary to show them. Perhaps it was because they were not only quite active professionals, but also so that their work could act as a contrast to the the more recently risen stars shown in the rest of the book. And those pages are abundant with the exciting work of the rising (or recently risen) stars: Kahn, Charles Moore; Venturi and Rauch; Carlin and Millard (a firm whose work is not widely discussed now, but which is well worth studying); Davis, Brody and Associates; DMJM; Tigerman; Mitchell, Giurgola; Roche, Dinkeloo and Associates, and numerous others.

Stern’s voice is hardly that of a reporter aiming only for journalistic neutrality. G. E. Kidder Smith’s review of the original edition (published in the March, 1972 issue of the Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians) puts it well:

A provocative, vexing, hence far tooo brief (three-page) introduction sets the stage for New Directions in American Architecture, and one will find that the subsequent pages both inform and irritate—all of which makes for a slender but simulating volume. Beginning with the very choice of the seven bellwethers shown to typify the “new directions”—like any panel of architects or selection of buildings, a process automatically insuring challenges—a philosophy unfolds that at times will startle.

Along with his reservations, Kidder Smith does acknowledge:

The author’s critical analysis and appraisals command respect for their often penetrating incisiveness.

And those analyses and appraisals are conveyed through clear language—which today seems undervalued in architectural writing—and layered with Stern’s high intelligence and knowledge of history and the national architectural scene.

PRICE— AND TRUE WORTH

The book’s price when it first came out—as shown on the cover.

The book was a medium-size paperback of moderate length (128 pages), with numerous black & white illustrations. What would one expect the price to be for such a volume? The cover (shown at the top of this article) has a cover price of 25S—that’s twenty-five shillings, indicating that the example pictured was a British edition. The cover of the American edition—the one in the library of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation—shows it in US currency: $2.95

That may seem jaw-droppingly inexpensive—can one buy anything today for such an amount?!—but that’s hardly the case. The current, inflation-adjusted equivalent for both the American and British prices is a bit over $20—which is about par for books of similar format today.

Even so, it’s worth considering the book’s “worth” in an enlarged sense—for New Directions in American Architecture that holds up well: it continues to be a fascinating resource on the creative voices of that era—a body of accomplishment and ideas which retain their presence and power.

BRAZILLER: A PUBLISHER OF DISTINCTION

The book was published by Braziller—a name dear to architecture book lovers, for they published—and continue to offer—fine books on the topic. During the 1960’s-70’s, when the New Directions series came out, they were particularly prolific in architectural publishing.

George Braziller (1916-2017) and Marsha Braziller (d. 1970) started in the book business in 1940’s, and began their own publishing firm in 1955. The company is well-known for their visually-oriented books on art, as well as publishing serious works of literature, criticism, history—and architecture! After his retirement, George Braziller wrote an intriguing memoir of his publishing adventures (highlighting the fascinating characters he encountered.) The firm is run by their sons, and their books are currently distributed through another distinguished publisher: W.W.Norton.

PART OF A SERIES—AND A CROSS-CULTURAL PANORAMA

Udo Kultermann’s book on the work of African architects—one of the volumes in Braziller’s New Directions series.

"New Directions in American Architecture was part of the “New Directions” series published by Braziller. Other volumes in that series, published or announced, were on:

• Japanese Architecture

• African Architecture

• British Architecture

• German Architecture

• Soviet Architecture

• Latin American Architecture

• Italian Architecture

• Swiss Architecture

These were authored by some of the most eminent architectural historians of that era—scholars like Kultermann, von Moos, Boyd, Kopp, and Gregotti. The author of the American volume, Robert A. M. Stern—relatively unknown at the time—has gone on to some prominence of his own….

A FRESH CONTINUATION…

Less than a decade later, Robert A. M. Stern and Braziller brought out a New Enlarged Edition of the book. Published in 1977, it included the full body of the earlier, 1969 text—but the volume was extended by the addition of further works by Venturi, Moore, and Mitchell Giurgola.

An important added section, titled Postscript: At The Edge of Postmodernism, also gave coverage to newer participants whose work and voices were widening the architectural discourse: Eisenman, Meier, Greenberg, Graves, and Gwathmey / Siegel (names not even mentioned in the first edition). Stern’s office (Robert A. M. Stern and John S. Hagmann) was also represented by two of their most interesting early residential projects: the Lang House; and a newly constructed townhouse fronting on Park Avenue.

Like the original edition, the 1977 enlarged edition gave the reader a chance to encounter not just the design work of a vital group of architects, but also the ideas which were the philosophical underpinnings of this fresh oeuvre.

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

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

A CLASSIC aBOUT THE FUTURE

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

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

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

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

MEGASTRUCTURES

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

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

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

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

REYNER BANHAM

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

THE “FIRST APROXIMATION” HISTORIAN

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

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

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

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

PAUL RUDOLPH: MASTER OF MEGASTRUCTUES

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

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

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

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

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

Rudolph: After Mies, the megastructure.

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

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

Cook: Ponte Vecchio.

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

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

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

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

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

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

1962: Rudolph’s Boston Govt. Service Center

1963: Rudolph’s UMass Dartmouth campus

1967: Rudolph’s Graphic Arts Center for NYC

1967: Rudolph’s LOMEX project for Manhattan

1969: Rudolph’s Burroughs Wellcome in North Carolina

1990: Rudolph’s Gatot Subroto for Jakarta

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

BOOK INFORMATION AND AVAILABILITY:

• TITLE: Megastructure: Urban Futures Of The Recent Past

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

• PUBLISHER: Monacelli Press

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

• ISBN: 9781580935401

• PUBISHER’S WEB PAGE FOR THE BOOK: here

• AMAZON PAGE: here

• BARNES & NOBLE PAGE: here

IMAGE CREDITS:

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

Design at the Largest Scale: Paul Rudolph as Urban Designer

Pantai Timur Surabaya: the design for a proposed new town for 250,000 people—a 1990 urban planning project by Paul Rudolph, to be located in Surabaya, the capital of the province of East Java in Indonesia. This city center drawing is one of several which Rudolph prepared for the project. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

WHAT WAS RUDOLPH? — HIS MULTIPLE ROLES

Rudolph is thought of in many ways—but urban designer is not often among the categories with which he’s linked. Yet he was intensely engaged—both intellectually and practically—in urban design. Here he’s shown, at far right, with key players in the development of the Boston Government Service Center, surrounding an architectural model of the complex—one of Rudolph’s strongest urban interventions.

Our ongoing research shows that Rudolph was many things. If you met him, he’d probably introduce himself as an architect (and in interviews he referred to himself as such)—but if one looks at his half-century career, what emerges are the multiple roles he played, both as a prolific professional, and in the lives of those with whom he interacted:

• Architect— with well over 300 commissions, across the US and internationally, designing in a variety of building types and scales

• Interior Designer— both as an aspect of his architectural projects, and as separate commissions

• Furniture Designer— whether as built-ins or as freestanding units, Rudolph created numerous furniture designs for many of his buildings and interiors

• Lighting Designer— virtually obsessed by light, Rudolph custom-designed light fixtures for individual projects; and later co-founded the Modulightor lighting company—for which he designed their line of lighting products and systems

• Educator— at first, as guest lecturer or instructor at numerous schools; and later as the the Chair of Yale’s School of Architecture, where he revised and energized the school’s curriculum, staff, culture, and environment

• Writer and Lecturer— although Rudolph worked on more-than-one book project, none were published in his lifetime—but he did speak in public, was interviewed, and published a number of illuminating articles in which he shared his thinking

• Mentor— his former students and employees have testified to the power of Paul Rudolph’s example—as well as Rudolph’s ongoing, contributory relationships with them

• Artist and Patron— creating murals for selected commissions, or working with artists whose artworks were integrated into his buildings

But where, in this broad list of his roles and engagements, is URBAN DESIGN?

Rudolph repeatedly focused his thinking, writing, and speeches on urban design—and judging from the way the topic keeps recurring in his public statements, it may well have been his most compelling concern. So it’s time that we consider Rudolph’s work as an urban designer.

PAUL RUDOLPH aND URBAN DESIGN: FOUR MODES

Rudolph’s’ engagement with urban design took several forms, scales and types—and it can be clarifying to categorize them into four modes:

1. URBAN DESIGN THINKING/PRIORITIES

2. URBAN INTERVENTIONS

3. COMMUNITY PLANNING

4. CAMPUS PLANNING

There are multiple manifestations of his work in each of these domains, and we offer some examples below (though this is not an exhaustive list of his ventures in each category).

1. URBAN DESIGN THINKING/PRIORITIES

Rudolph wrote & lectured throughout his career. This anthology, edited by Nina Rappaport, contains essays by him, interviews, and copies of his speeches. Numerous of those texts reveal his thinking on urban design.

Timothy Rohan’s monograph, on the life and career of Paul Rudolph, looked deeply into Rudolph’s urban design philosophy. In an important journal article, and in the book, he characterized Rudolph’s approach as “Scenographic Urbanism.”

Rudolph thought about what was wrong—and could be changed, improved, and fixed in our cities. Further, he was emphatic about what was missing in the Modern Movement’s approach urban design. He expressed his observations and thoughts in numerous speeches, writings, and interviews.

Key urban design issues for Rudolph, to which he kept returning, were:

• The importance of the urban context, and seeing that even the most cleverly designed building is a part of larger whole. As Rudolph expressed it: “We think of buildings in and of themselves. That isn’t any good at all. That’s not the way it is, not the way it has ever been, not the way it will ever be. Buildings are absolutely and completely dependent on what’s around them.” -and- “Every building not matter how large or small, is part of the urban design.”

• The existence (new to human history) of the automobile—and the need to work with that fact. But Rudolph was not speaking of just giving-in to the auto’s voracious demands for routes and resources (‘though he knew we’d have to deal with those practical matters). Rather: he was pointing to the new ways that we experience streets, architecture, and space when traveling in a car, and at speeds which citizens had never before known.

• Coincident with that are the changes in the scale of the structures that were newly being constructed—works of a size unimagined by past ages. Of this he said: “Things are quite chaotic. We are faced with a vast change of scale, new building forms which have not really been investigated, and the compulsions of the automobile. When faced with the truly new, the serious architect must search for solutions equally dramatic.”

• The need for variety with intensity, when shaping urban space. He expressed this point in this memorable passage: “We desperately need to relearn the art of disposing our buildings to create different kinds of space: the quiet, enclosed, isolated, shaded space; the hustling, bustling space, pungent with vitality; the paved, dignified, vast, sumptuous, even awe-inspiring space; the mysterious space; the transition space which defines, separates, and yet joins juxtaposed spaces of contrasting character. We need sequences of space which arouse one’s curiosity, give a sense of anticipation, which beckon and impel us to rush forward to find that releasing space which dominates, which acts as a climax and magnet, and gives direction.”

A deeper look into Rudolph’s thinking on urban design—and how he put those ideas into practice—can be found by reading his own words (in the book of his writings), and in the monographs on his career.

2. URBAN INTERVENTIONS—PROPOSED AND BUILT

Sometimes architects and planners get to work in “clean slate”, tabular rasa locations: sites where there is a relative lack of constraints about how a project is to be shaped, and what design decisions can be made. But that’s the minority of situations which architects urban designers find themselves in, and the preponderance of their work is within existing contexts which simultaneously pose multiple, convoluted, and intractable problems.

In such cases, some designers look at their work as “interventions”—a term more familiar from the cultures of medicine or therapy. But the concept has become a useful addition to the design discourse, as it can help designers to think—with clarity and responsibility—about the the limits of what should be done, the power(s) available to make change, and what is just and appropriate to propose or do.

Below are three examples of Rudolph’s urban design work, which could be characterized as “interventions":

Architectural Forum’s January 1963 issue Image courtesy of USModernist Library

RUDOLPH: A WASHINGTON INTERVENTION

John F. Kennedy, during his presidential inauguration auto ride in Washington, noticed the tawdry state of the capital’s most prominent streets and avenues—and asked/urged that action be taken to transform the city, so that it would live-up to its status as the capital city of the world’s most powerful free nation. This brought focus to the state of the city, and Architectural Forum devoted an entire issue to the design Washington, DC.

Architectural Forum, up until it ceased publication in 1974, was one of the US’ three major professional architectural journals, and was known for its “eye”: publishing some of the most interesting new buildings and interiors from around the world—and also for exploring the controversial issues of the day (and looking at their architectural and urban design implications). Thus it makes sense that they’d asked Paul Rudolph—the dynamic Chair of Yale’s School of Architecture, a prolific and creative designer, and a young star of the profession—to participate in looking at Washington, and proposing what might be done to fix it’s design problems while enhancing the city’s existing assets.

Paul Rudolph’s article, in that Washington-focused Architectural Forum issue, was titled “A View of Washington As A Capital—Or What Is Civic Design?” He reviewed the initial intentions of the city’s layout, as conceived by Pierre Charles L’Enfant (the original planner of the city, who’d received the assignment from George Washington)—and looked at the developing history of the city, the importance of density, the use of monuments, the state of official architecture, and the condition of major avenues and the Mall. He then offered suggestions on redeveloping a portion of Capitol Hill and the overall reorganization of that important central area.

Paul Rudolph’s article, in that Washington-focused issue of Architectural Forum, included this image: an aerial photograph of downtown DC, on which Rudolph drew his ideas for improving this part of the city. He focused here on the Capitol, the Mall, and surrounding buildings and key axes—and suggesting interventions that would increase the coherence of the ensemble. Image courtesy of USModernist Library

RUDOLPH: A NEW YORK INTERVENTION

Paul Rudolph’s LOMEX (Lower Manhattan Expressway) project was intended to address issues of cross-town traffic—but Rudolph took it to another level, with a visionary (if controversial) proposal: an intervention that would have transformed life in that southern section of the city. His design would have integrated transportation (of several kinds), housing, other building-function-types, and services—all within an innovatively shaped and planned infrastructure, and using a prefabricated modular construction system for the housing units. Of his proposal, Rudolph asserted:

“A conventional urban expressway might very well be more abusive to the city. On the other hand, building a new type of urban corridor designed in relation to the city districts through which it passes and engineered in such a way as to be capable of dissolving traffic and diminishing noise, exhaust, environmental and surface-street problems that have plagued the corridor area for decades might just be the most desirable approach.”

In Rudolph’s LOMEX drawing above, the routes between bridges at the edges of New York City’s Manhattan island are shown, surmounted by a titanic building project of housing and other building types. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

An important part of Rudolph’s concept for LOMEX was the housing system. Individual apartments, which he called “the brick of the future”: were to be manufactured and trucked to the site, and lifted into place onto structural towers. One can see several such tower assemblies in this model of a portion of LOMEX. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

LOMEX would have integrated housing with pedestrian, train, and automotive movement, and a full range of services needed to allow them to all function. All this was to be accommodated within a megastructure that was to span the width of Manhattan, as shown here in Rudolph’s perspective-section drawing. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

RUDOLPH: A BOSTON INTERVENTION

The BOSTON GOVERNMENT SERVICE CENTER is situated on a large triangular site, and was envisioned as a part of Boston’s downtown “Government Center” (whose other prominent Modern structure is the Boston City Hall.) About 2/3 of the complex was built in the way that Rudolph envisioned it. Within a set of muscular and sculptural concrete buildings are housed state offices offering varied services. The buildings enclose a quiet plaza, which was meant to be a peaceful respite in the city as well as part of the building’s entry sequence.

The size, location, and complexity of such a large complex was bound to have an effect on the adjacent parts of the city—and Rudolph thought carefully about its urban design aspects, and shaped and scaled the buildings based on his observations of Boston.

Here is some of his thinking about the design, taken from various public statements and interviews:

“The three buildings are purposely designed so that they form a specific space for pedestrians only and read as a single entity rather than three separate buildings. In terms of urban design, this is undoubtedly one of the first concerted efforts to unify a group of buildings that this country has seen in a number of years.”

“The irregular and complex form [of the plaza] is derived primarily from the irregular street pattern of Boston.”

“The generating ideas of most traditional cities are pedestrian and vehicular circulation, streets, squares, terminuses, with their space clearly defined by buildings. This means linked buildings united to form comprehensible exterior spaces. The Boston Government Service Center is the opposite of Le Corbusier’s dictum “down with the street.” It started with three separate buildings, their clients, architects and methods of financing. We didn’t build three separate buildings, as others had proposed, but one continuous building which defined the street, formed a pedestrian plaza. . . .The scale of the lower buildings was heightened at the exterior perimeter (street) so that it read in conjunction with automobile traffic (columns 60-70 feet high plus toilet and stair cores at the corners were used). The scale at the plaza was much more intimate using stepped floors which revealed each floor level, making a bowl of space. As one approaches the stepped six-story-high building it reduces itself to only one story. . . .”

Progressive Architecture published a 1964 article on the design for the Boston Government Service Center. LEFT: the opening page, featuring a photo looking down into a model of the full-block complex, which encloses a pedestrian plaza—and, below, the editors included intriguing comparison images of urban plazas in Sienna and Venice. Image courtesy USModernist Library. ABOVE: a site plan of the complex (circled in Red) and adjacent streets in Boston. For a comparison of scale, the Boston City Hall—itself a building of significant size—is shown at the lower-right (the rectangle circled in Blue.)

3. COMMUNITY DESIGN

There are several examples of Rudolph taking-on the design of whole communities, whether it be a new town, a new neighborhood, or a development so large that it could legitimately be considered a work that engages urban design challenges.

Probably the largest such assignment that he worked on was the design of new town in Indonesia for 250,000, people. Had it been built, it would have been a sizable new settlement—and below are drawings for that project.

Below that are several other projects where Rudolph is working at a large, urban scale—both with respect to the populations that would have been housed, and/or the geographical area that was to be covered.

Paul Rudolph’s Phase One study for the city center of Pantai Timur Surabaya—a proposed town for a quarter-million people in Indonesia. While this project never proceeded into construction, the urban ideas which it embodied are well worth studying. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

Above is a further drawing by Rudolph—a site plan sketch—from his town planning project for the Pantai Timur Surabaya in Indonesia. Note: Larger versions of these drawings (this one, and the drawing at left) can be seen on the project page, here. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

Buffalo’s Shoreline Apartments was a housing complex designed in 1969, a portion of which was completed in 1974. The full scheme (partially shown in the above model) included terraced high-rises around a marina, school and community center facilities, and low and mid-rise apartment buildings and townhouses, with green spaces woven through the site. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

A federally aided project in the late 60’s, designed to solve housing shortages in New Haven, Oriental Masonic Gardens offered 148 units of housing, ranging from 2-to-5 bedrooms. An attempt at bringing prefabrication to the housing crisis, the homes were made from 333 modules, placed in configurations that provided a separate outside space for each family. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

To be situated in the North-West portion of Washington, DC, the Fort Lincoln Housing project from 1968 was designed to be woven into the existing urban context, providing abundant (and much needed) housing, and offering a variety of apartment types. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

In 1974 Rudolph received a commission for an immense Apartment Hotel (a.k.a. the JERUSALEM HOTEL), which would have encompassed over 300 units, plus the many facilities to support them—all under a multitude of stone-clad, concrete barrel-vaults. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

Comprising a master plan, and the design for townhouses, apartment houses, a hotel and boatel, and commercial spaces, Rudolph’s mid-60’s Stafford Harbor resort project in Virginia was the first time he’d ever worked on the planning of an entire town. Designed to take full advantage of its waterside location, it embraced the site’s existing topography. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

Rudolph’s 1967 Graphic Arts Center project would have included 4,000 prefabricated apartment units, as well as spaces for a multiplicity of other functions. Stretching into the Hudson River, its vast scale can be perceived by comparing it with the World Trade Center complex, whose site plan (including the WTC’s two square towers) is shown at the right edge of the drawing. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

4. CAMPUS PLANNING: DISTILLED URBAN DESIGN

A large portion of Paul Rudolph’s oeuvre were educational buildings, done at all levels—from an elementary school to designing spaces for advanced research. Many were stand-alone buildings, but Rudolph was always aware (and respectful of) context. Even his most famous work, the Yale Art & Architecture Building (which has been cited as the paradigmatic example of individualism in design) is an example of Rudolph’s careful consideration of the setting—and one can see this in his drawings for the building, which purposefully showed the proposed design as it was to be situated within New Haven’s urban context.

More directly pertinent are his designs for whole campuses. The campus of a university, college, or educational institute has to simultaneously fulfill multiple functions: housing classrooms, laboratories, arts and athletic facilities, administrative space, a library, and—literally—housing for students (and sometimes faculty as well). Moreover, efficient and pleasant connections and travel between the buildings which house these activities—via interior and exterior routes—must be integrated into the plan. Finally, an oft-stated client goal is that the ensemble has a look of unity, so as to promote a sense of shared campus identity.

Accommodating such planning complexity, within a distinct area, is a concentrated version of an urban design problem—a distillation of trying to design a small city. Rudolph was commissioned to take on this challenge by several institutions, both across the US and internationally—with interesting results and in highly varying forms. Below are examples of his work in this domain.

The Tuskegee Chapel, of 1960, was one of the works for which Rudolph is most famed. But, over the decades, he was engaged by Tuskegee Institute for other buildings and purposes—for example: in 1958 they asked him to do the above Master Plan for the campus. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

If having “repeat customers” is the sign client happiness, then Tuskegee must have found Paul Rudolph quite satisfying to work with—a manifestation of which would be this 1978 commission to him for a Tuskegee Master Plan and College Entrance. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

The planning of the new campus for Southeastern Massachusetts Technological Institute—now UMass Dartmouth—commenced in 1963, and design work and construction continued over many years (and is ongoing). A pedestrian campus with an encircling parking system, it was conceived as a series of extended buildings based on a single structural-mechanical system, to be constructed of one material. A spiraling mall, created by the buildings, organizes the heart of the complex. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

The East Pakistan Agricultural University, south of the district town of Mymensingh (now Bangladesh Agricultural University) was a project from the middle 1960’s. It included a master plan to expand the existing campus, and the design of buildings for a full range of functions: auditorium, dormitories, laboratories, instructional spaces, and recreation facilities. A portion of Rudolph’s designs were constructed. Part of the model, for the overall design, is shown above. © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation

THE CONTEXT OF PAST AND CURRENT URBAN DESIGN THINKING, PLANNING, AND BUILDING

Paul Rudolph placed immense importance on urban design, and that necessitates being an astute and careful observer—as he Rudolph was—of the life and shaping of cities.

Cites are pivotal: the rise of civilization and cities go together, so a deep consideration of their forms is essential—and even pre (or non) urban settlements can have formal structures and layout rules of great civil sophistication.

This history—of the evolution and multiplicity of the forms cities have taken, and the forces which guided their shaping—is of enormous complexity, as is the literature which has been focused on these greatest of human artifacts. Influential books have been published (and continue to be) on urban design—often with implicit or outright declarations on how city-making should move forward. Among the most prominent have been Edmund Bacon’s Design of Cities, Kevin Lynch’s Image of the City, Rudofsky’s Streets for People, and works by Le Corbusier, Jacobs, Buras, Koolhaas, Howard, Rossi, and Mumford.

These authors/researchers/designers make profound contributions to our understanding of urban design—both as history and as lessons for today’s practice. But few offer the comprehensive, encyclopedic view of urban design history and form as to be found in a newly issued book: Urban Grids: Handbook for Regular City Design.

The result of a titanic 8-year study, and the work of an army-sized team of researchers and designers, this single volume is a deep review of urban design history, theory and practice—but the real value of the book is in its “case study” approach: comparing dozens of cities, world-wide, on the basis of their geometry, density, block configuration, street width and street-wall height, relation to topography, mix of uses, integration of various transport modes, growth patterns, and other factors. Over hundreds of pages, utilizing thousands of illustrations, this one volume makes available and synthesizes a body of information daunting in its richness and complexity—and will become an indispensable tool for all concerned with urban design.

Two adjacent pages from the book, on which the case studies of two cities—Algiers and Alexandria—are compared utilizing numerous diagrams and data.

A further spread from the book, from a section in which the history and evolution of urban design—including grid layouts—is explored.

BOOK INFORMATION AND AVAILABILITY:

• TITLE: Urban Grids: Handbook for Regular City Design

• AUTHORS: Joan Busquets, Dingliang Yang, and Michael Keller

• PUBLISHER: ORO Editions

• PRINT FORMAT: Hardcover, 8-1/2” x 12'“

• PAGE COUNT & ILLUSTRATIIONS: 680 pgs., thousands of black & white and color illustrations

• ISBN: 978-1-940743-95-0

• ALTERNATE EDITION: A Spanish language version (“Ciudad Regular”) is also available:

• PUBISHER’S WEB PAGE FOR THE BOOK: here

• AMAZON PAGE: here

• BARNES & NOBLE PAGE: here

The GIFT GUIDE for Architecture Lovers (and especially for Rudolph fans!)

Even the counterweights at Paul Rudolph’s Walker Guest House seem to have the festive, holiday spirit! Glory Curtis Williams took this intriguing detail photograph of the replica of the building, when it was on display during the 2019 Palm Springs Modernism Week.

Philip Johnson—a long-time friend of Rudolph—most famous work is his own home: the Glass House. Even this building—a work of architecture of world-wide renown—has become “giftable” in the form of this snow globe, offered by National Trust for Historic Preservation.

With the arrival of the Holiday Season, our thoughts turn to gifts. For the very young, it’s the the anticipation of receiving them—but for the rest of us, the focus (and sometimes agony) is on search, selection, and shopping for presents that are simultaneously available, affordable, and appropriate—and, we hope, something that’s un-anticipated: a real and pleasurable surprise.

How hard can that be? Very—if the intended recipient is a design-savvy architect or fan of architecture. They’re probably already aware of most of the design/building-themed books, accessories, and “lifestyle” tools. But help is available…

That assistance is in the form of the gift guides. Published annually, this proliferating phenomenon proffers guides for almost every interest, from those who obsessed with cooking -to- those who (like in our group) are aficionados of concrete. More than ever, one can find annually-issued gift guides for architects—and this year, so far, we’ve encountered at least four that are abundant with attractive ideas:

“Concrete After Lightning”—a concrete-scented candle to light up the holidays.

ARCHITECT MAGAZINE

Architect is the official journal of the American Institute of Architects, and they have issued their “Gift Guide 2020”

It offers numerous choices, and included is a shirt which highlights the contributions of women in architecture, a set of modular lights that pulsate with different colors, Lamy’s Safari fountain pen (always a favorite among designers), the beautiful series of Ruth Asawa stamps issued by the United States Postal Service, and some colorful bowls made from recycled skateboards.

The items that will no doubt delight Rudolphians most are a concrete-scented candle made by D.S. & Durga; and the two cleverly shaped, architecturally-themed concrete planters from Rosenwood Studio.

Borson’s list of “essential” books includes monographs on Corb, Scarpa, Lutyens, and Saarinen, several volumes by Frank D. K. Ching, and key works by Christopher Alexander and on Dieter Rams.

LIFE OF AN ARCHITECT

Bob Borsons’s always interesting blog (in which he shares about the realities of the profession) has an established track record for issuing annual gift guides—ones in which he is quite articulate about what would make each suggested gift meaningful and useful.

This year, his “Holiday Gift Guide For Architects” is his 11th such entry. It has some of the things that one might already have guessed could be included (like an Aalto vase or the Vignelli wall calendar—both staples in the homes and offices of the tasteful demographic), and something delightfully outrageous: a $55,000 utility vehicle. Best for this year, he gives us a selection of 40 books—and what makes that book list distinctive is that they’re volumes which are in his own personal collection. Borson tells us that he’s been building up his library for decades—and these are the books which he personally recommends as “essentials”.

The Architray, which can hold pens, pencils, and other such items—and makes them easily accessible.

ARCHITECTURE LAB MAGAZINE

Their list, “47 of the Best Gifts for Architects in 2020,” has a large number of Alessi products—particularly ones designed by Zaha Hadid. Her centerpiece, composed of 5 repositionable parts, captures the adventurous form-making of that architect—as does another Alessi suggestion: a rattan centerpiece by the Campana brothers.

The other kind of gift which is prominent in this list are various types of “blocks” construction sets: not just Lego (though they are included), but also two different ones in the Blockitecture series, as well as a house from Wise Elk (which is composed of parts made from real plaster and ceramic.) Concrete-o-philes will appreciate the “Brutalist Concrete Architray” which was designed by 7thFl Studio.

The “My Little Architect” set, with it’s colorful and flexible system, might well intrigue all age groups.

GIFTHEM

Gifthem is a site that specializes in creating gift lists for different professions and interests—a practical and useful service. Thus they have lists for almost any domain of practice or interest, including Judges, Dentists, Basketball Enthusiasts, Minecraft Fans, Barbers, Quilters, Doctors…—and yes, Architects. This year’s list starts by acknowledging that “…architects are too picky and investigative in everything due to the nature of their field so finding the gifts for architects is a bit tricky”—and one will not find a more honest assessment of the situation!

They do come up with some unique suggestions, like a pair of socks whose pattern suggests avantgarde architectural plans from Italy in the 1960’s, a wallet whose exterior faces are printed with a residential floor plan, frameable prints that show patent drawings for traditional drafting tools, and—for the younger members of the profession—a “My Little Architect” building set, composed of colorful, transparent plastic tiles which assemble via a clever system of magnets.

The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation includes a “SHOP” page on it’s website—which is useful year-round, but especially for the holiday shopper.

A BETTER CHOICE: GIVE RUDOLPH tHIS HOLIDAY!

With all the suggestions contained in the above gift guides, one might think that the possibilities have been exhausted. True, a number of the choices in those lists include items that are cleverly made of concrete—and whose interest, in part, rely on the power of surprise, as such objects rarely use that herculean material.

But if the person you’re shopping for has tastes and interests which lean in the direction of the work of Paul Rudolph, there are gifts which are more focused on him—his life and career—and the great body of work he created.

The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation’s website has a “SHOP” page, which offers a variety of items which will illuminate the vast range of creation that emerged from Rudolph’s innovative and prolific career. During his half-century of practice, he was engaged in architecture, interior design, product design, furniture design, lighting design, education, issues of urbanism, mentorship, and the invention of systems of construction. Rudolph—for those who look into the prodigious number of projects he took on—is an endless resource of interest and inspiration.

The books, offered through our SHOP page, highlight and investigate his many contributions. Here are four studies which are prime sources for leaning about Rudolph’s multiple talents and accomplishments.

Celebrating Rudolph’s 100th birthday, this pair of catalogs are the official publication of the centennial exhibitions: “Paul Rudolph: The Personal Laboratory” -and- “Paul Rudolph: The Hong Kong Journey.” The former exhibit looked at how Rudolph used his own residences as places for experimentation with space, materials, and light—truly as “laboratories” of design. Though Rudolph was based in the US, he was called upon by clients in Asia to design a variety of projects, both commercial and residential. In the latter exhibit there was a focus on Rudolph’s work in Hong Kong, with an emphasis on the Bond Centre: the double-skyscraper towers which he designed, that are prominent on the Hong Kong’s skyline. The set of catalogs are available HERE.

Paul Rudolph’s creative & prolific half-century career extended to nearly the end of the 20th century—and this book focuses on the work from the latter part of his oeuvre. It includes: buildings for many parts of the US, fascinating ambitious projects for Asia, the Modulightor Building (the headquarters for the lighting business which he co-founded, and whose lines of light fixtures he designed), and the design of his own intriguing residence (his “Quadruplex” penthouse on Beekman Place in New York City). Hand-picked by Rudolph himself, the 27 projects profiled in Roberto de Alba’s book are shown through a broad selection of drawings, sketches, photographs, plans, and perspective views. The book includes illuminating introductory texts by Roberto De Alba, Mildred F. Schmertz, and Robert Bruegmann; as well as a fascinating in-depth interview with Rudolph by Peter Blake. It is available HERE.

On of Paul Rudolph’s most interesting later projects is the “Quadruplex” penthouse which he built for himself in New York City, with dramatic views of the East River. That residence was the cover story of this issue of “FDR: The FLORIDA DESIGN REVIEW”, and the article included the most complete photographic documentation ever published of the rich set of spaces within that project. Copies of this rare publication are available HERE.

Moleskine, in collaboration with Princeton Architectural Press, has brought out a series of books focusing on the drawings and sketches of innovative designers—-including this volume on Paul Rudolph. It features an insightful introduction by John Morris Dixon. It is available HERE.

OTHER GIFT BOOKS FROM oUR SHOP

While the monographs on Rudolph, above, are exceptional gifts, also available through the SHOP page are several other works of profound interest. These studies are impressive in the depth of their research, and stimulating in their insights and revelations.

R.D. Chin is an architect who worked for Paul Rudolph, and knew him well. Mr. Chin’s career has included working on numerous building types—and he then trained to become a Feng Shui master (whose practice includes consulting on a variety of architectural projects.) In this well-illustrated and colorful volume, he shares the wisdom of that system, and how it can be applied to the practical challenges of architecture and interior design. It is available HERE.

Beatriz Colomina explores the enormous impact of medical discourse and imaging technologies on the formation, representation and reception of twentieth-century architecture. It challenges the normal understanding of modern architecture by proposing that it was shaped by the dominant medical obsessions of its time—and traces the psychopathologies of 20th century architecture, suggesting that if we want to talk about the state of architecture today, we should look to the dominant obsessions with illness and the latest techniques of imaging the body. It is available HERE.

Caroline Rob Zaleski’s “Long Island Modernism 1930-1980” belongs in the library of anyone interested in the history of Modernism in America. It has eye-opening archival photographs and surprising discoveries about pioneering architecture by visionary architects, such as Rudolph, Breuer, Wallace Harrison, Wright, and Albert Frey with A. Laurence Kocher. The Architects Newspaper praised It, saying: “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.” It is available HERE.

New BOOK On Burroughs Wellcome's Home: Research Triangle Park

An aerial view of the Burroughs Wellcome building, within North Carolina’s Research Triangle Park. Image courtesy of Google Maps.

Brain Magnet is an historical study of Research Triangle Park—of which Burroughs Wellcome is its most architecturally distinguished resident.

North Carolina’s Research Triangle Park (RTP) is one of the most prominent research developments in the country. Founded in 1959, it is the largest research park in the US, with numerous distinguished firms and organizations locating their headquarters and research centers there. It includes facilities for: IBM, Cree, BASF, GlaxoSmithKline, Cisco, Lenovo, Wells Fargo, the National Humanities Center, the EPA, and Underwriters Laboratories

Within Research Triangle Park, some organizations have attempted to construct facilities of architectural merit—and of all of them, it is Paul Rudolph’s BURROUGHS WELLCOME building which stands out.

Newly published, by Columbia University Press, is: Brain Magnet: Research Triangle Park and the Idea of the Idea Economy. It is a fascinating study of the park’s context, origins, development, and flourishing (including the arrival of the Burroughs Wellcome headquarters)—and the area’s evolution and prospects.

The author is Alex Sayf Cummings, an associate professor and director of graduate studies in the History Department at Georgia State University. A prolific scholar and author, she has conducted research into a great variety of areas—as shown in her numerous publications and commentaries. She describes herself as “. . . .an historian of law, technology, labor, public policy, and American cities.”

We first encountered Dr. Cummings’ work in a post she wrote for Tropics of Meta—a history blog (where she is senior editor) that “aims to offer a fresh perspective on history, current events, popular culture, and issues in the academic world.” In that post, she reported on a tour 2016 tour of the Burroughs Wellcome building, commenting on its design and condition, and showing photos from the visit (you can see the full article here.) From that post, “Into the Spaceship: A Visit to the Old Burroughs Wellcome Building,” we learned that she was conducting in-depth research on Research Triangle Park—work which has happily resulted in her new book.

Dr. Cummings describes some of her intentions in writing Brain Magnet:

Brain Magnet: Research Triangle Park and the Idea of the Idea Economy is about the way Americans came to think and speak differently about the economy in the late twentieth century. It uses North Carolina’s Research Triangle Park (RTP)—an ambitious development project launched in 1959 that rapidly became the largest research park in the United States—to consider how the very concept of an economy dedicated to the production of ideas and information emerged since the 1950s. Local boosters talked incessantly of creativity and creative workers, of cultivating a “stimulating” intellectual climate around the universities of Raleigh, Durham, and Chapel Hill, in a bid to convince high-tech corporations and the scientists and engineers they hoped to employ to relocate to the so-called “Research Triangle.” As Durham banker John Stewart put it in 1967, “Progress goes where there are brains and water”—and North Carolinians aggressively sought to attract as many “brains” as possible by courting companies such as IBM (1965) and Burroughs-Wellcome (1969), as well as nonprofit institutions like the National Humanities Center (1978).

For North Carolinians, of course, theory hardly mattered. Without using exactly the same terminology, they set out to build, beginning in the 1950s, an economy that privileged the skills and knowledge of highly educated workers, the scientists and engineers who created software, pharmaceutical patents, and other new technologies. Brain Magnet tells the story of this new form of “cognitive capitalism”. . . .and how it evolved on the ground.

THE BURROUGHS WELLCOME BUILDING: “A SPACESHIP LANDS IN THE SUNBELT”

Brain Magnet has a section which focuses on the Burroughs Wellcome building, with the vivid title: A Spaceship Lands In The Sunbelt. Illustrated with two views of the building (which shows its bucolic setting and landscaping), it describes the context and motivations of the decision, by Burroughs Wellcome’s leadership, to relocate to this part of North Carolina—and what qualities were possessed by the building which resulted from their choice of Paul Rudolph to design their US headquarters and research center.

As Dr. Cummings writes,

The most striking thing about Burroughs Wellcome’s move to RTP was undoubtedly its building, which was featured in countless stories about the park and the company to underline its radically futuristic veneer. The building, designed by celebrity architect Paul Rudolph, has been compared with everything from a honeycomb to spaceship. It features “soaring inner spaces and a dramatic interior . . . a symbol not only of the company’s futuristic vision but also of the high-technology park,” as local preservationists later put it. (The structure was later named the Elion-Hitchings building, after two Nobel Prize-winning scientists who worked at the pharmaceutical giant and did pioneering work on the early HIV drug AZT.)

This section also examines the building’s spatial organization, and the design’s practicality (noting both pros and cons)—and allows us to hear the warm memories of several people who worked there.

Alex Sayf Cummings’ highly articulate Brain Magnet is indispensable for comprehending the historical-cultural-economic reasons for the creation of Research Triangle Park—and the multiple forms it took and the energies it released.

BOOK INFORMATION AND AVAILABILITY

• TITLE: Brain Magnet: Research Triangle Park and the Idea of the Idea Economy

• AUTHOR: Alex Sayf Cummings

• PUBLISHER: Columbia University Press

• FORMATS: Paperback, Hardcover, or E-book

• BOOK WEB PAGE: here

• AMAZON PAGE: here

• BARNES & NOBLE PAGE: here

In addition to Brain Magnet, Alex Sayf Cummings has written, edited, or contributed to numerous books, including: Democracy Of Sound; East Of East; The Bohemian South; City By City, and Sound In The Age Of Mechanical Reproduction.

YOU CAN HELP SAVE BURROUGHS WELLCOME !

The Burroughs Wellcome building is threated with imminent demolition.

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

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

NOW— THERE ARE TWO THINGS YOU CAN DO:

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

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

Burroughs Wellcome: Let the CRITICS & USERS speak!

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

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

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

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

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

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

PAUL RUDOLPH: WORK IN PROGRESS

Architectural Record, November, 1970

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

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

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

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

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

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

Burroughs Wellcome

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

SCULPTURAL FORMS FOR PHARMECEUTICAL RESEARCH

Architectural Record, June, 1972

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Architect’s Newspaper, September 11, 2020

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

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

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

Tropics of Meta, June 13, 2016

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

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

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

COMMENTS:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

YOU CAN HELP SAVE BURROUGHS WELLCOME !

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

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

NOW, THERE ARE TWO THINGS YOU CAN DO:

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

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

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

Burroughs Wellcome: Let the Historians Speak!

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

GREAT BUILDINGS: FROM BIOGRAPHY -TO- HISTORY

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

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

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

THE ART AND ARCHITECTURE OF PAUL RUDOLPH

By Tony Monk

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

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

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

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

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

PAUL RUDOLPH: THE LATE WORK

by Roberto de Alba

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

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

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

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

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

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

by Miriam f. Stimpson

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

HABS: THE HISTORIC AMERCAN BUILDINGS SURVEY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE: IDEAS AND IDEOLOGIES IN THE LATE TWENTIETH CENTURY

By Paul Heyer

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

NORMAN FOSTER

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

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

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

YOU CAN HELP SAVE BURROUGHS WELLCOME !

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

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

NOW, THERE ARE TWO THINGS YOU CAN DO:

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

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

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