Deco and Moderne: Austin Architecture of the 1930s Exhibit @ Austin History Center

The Austin History Center has an exhibit celebrating the Art Deco and Streamline Moderne movement in Austin. They have a wall-length timeline showing the history of the movements and how they expressed themselves in Austin. Various era photographs are hung about the room.

Go quick because the exhibit ends April 29th! I suggest you call in advance to make sure someone isn't using the room for an event (as happened to me the first time I tried to go!).

Bohn House for sale

Here is a chance to own a piece of Austin history for a mere $1.7 mil! The Streamline Moderne Bohn House! If we had all the money in the world, this would would already have a "SOLD" signette attached to the agents's "For Sale" sign, because this is our most favorite house in town. 


There's a nice article about the house in today's Austin American-Statesman (the photos below are lifted from the real estate posting). Designed by Roy L. Thomas and built in 1938, the house was inspired by the futuristic castle in Frank Capra's movie "Lost Horizon" which in turn is based on the science fiction novel by James Hilton of the the same name. A trip by the homeowners, the Bohn's, on the Queen Mary sealed the deal (think of Le Corbusier here...). The current owner had hoped to lovingly restore the house, but now has it on the market and says he will insist on someone restoring the house. 


The house is simply a stunner. Although I doubt there will be one, here's to hoping for an open house!

From Capra's "Lost Horizon":

April 15, 2012: Just found this era photo of the house:

haiku for the book “Gropius” by Gilbert Lupfer and Paul Sigel

up from the Homeland

couldn’t draw worth a do-dang

but dude had vision…

Gropius was one of the original Modern mavens alongside Mies van der Rohe, Le Corbusier, and Frank Lloyd Wright. Even though he couldn’t draw worth a hoot, he became an architect and worked for the proto-modernist, Peter Behren (many of the early modernists [Le Corbusier and Mies] passed through Behren’s shop).

Gropius was there when Behren designed his most famous structure, the AEG Turbine Factory, in 1910. The Factory used iron and glass to create an open, airy atmosphere for workers and assembly. Despite the structure being held up by iron beams, Behrens still felt the need to “ground” the building with thick and heavy but non-supporting pillars at the corners. Gropius thought this was not “authentic” and that the building had been “aesthetically manipulated”.

Peter Behren's AEG Turbine Factory (1910).

 Note thick chunky corners not 

needed to support the building.

Gropius, along with Adolph Meyer, was able to forge his own path in 1911 with the design of buildings at the Fagus (shoe) Factory, a commission that would last until 1925. With the Fagus Factory, Gropius and Meyer were the first to use structure, reinforced concrete in this case, to liberate the outside walls from structural constraints, either real or imagined. They invented the curtain wall (a non-structural wall of windows) and the glass corner (an architectural jab-in-the-eye of Behren’s unnecessary beefy corners). In 1913, Gropius published an influential article titled “The Development of Industrial Buildings” which included photos of factories and grain elevators in the United States (something that later influenced Le Corbusier and Mendelsohn).

Gropius's response to the same problem (1911): 

Glass corners (and a poke in the eye!).

Gropius continued his experiments in structure-free shells with the design and construction of the Model Factory at the Werkbund Exhibition in Cologne in 1914. With this building he perfected the curtain wall and also showed the influence of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Wasmuth Portfolio, published in Germany in 1910.

Gropius's Model Factory (1914)

Between 1914 and 1918, World War I put a stop to most construction. While this was unfortunate, it was a time for many architects to pause and think about the big picture and how architecture fit into it. Based on those reflections, Gropius started the Bauhaus in 1919 with the manifesto that "The final product of all artistic endeavor is the building."

Unlike many of his contemporaries, Gropius wasn’t political; however, he made a fateful decision in 1920 to design a memorial to honor the workers who lost their lives in the Kapp Putsch, an attempt by right-wing conservatives (proto-Nazis) to overthrow the democratic government. Bauhaus's association with the monument came back to haunt him and Bauhaus later when the National Socialists came back into power in 1933 and destroyed the monument and shut down Bauhaus.

Memorial (1920)

In 1922, the big architectural “contest” was the design for the Chicago Tribune tower. Chicago was world famous for architecture at that time because of the skyscrapers of Louis Sullivan and the Prairie School of Frank Lloyd Wright. Although a somewhat uninspired (but ultimately beautiful) gothic design was ultimately chosen, Gropius’s Modern design introduced him to a broader swath of the United States.

Chicago Tribune proposal (1922)

By 1924, Gropius had embraced “White Modernism” with the Auerbach House in Jena, Germany. He then set forth in 1925 to 1926 designing and building for the new Bauhaus in Dessau, Germany, including the houses for the masters (teachers), dormitories for the students, and teaching buildings for the school, all in white.

Bauhaus school buildings in Dessau.

Master's house at the Bauhaus in Dessau. 

Auerbach House.

When the National Socialists took power in January 1933, they required architects to register with the government with the end goal of having architecture defined by the German state. Gropius tried to make the argument to authorities that Modernism was a good fit for Germany because it was guided by rationalism (that is, function over form). However, the Reich Chamber of Culture, under the boot heel of Joseph Goebbels, found its architectural home in Roman revivalism fused with Art Deco (sometimes called “Severe Deco”). With his architectural freedom taken, Gropius moved to England in 1934 with the goal, not realized, of setting up a new Bauhaus. In 1937, Gropius moved to the United States to be a professor of architecture at Harvard, becoming the chair the following year until his retirement in 1952.

Gropius never quite found his mojo again after leaving Germany, but the house he designed and built for himself in 1938 in Massachusetts showed how the International Style aptly conveyed to building techniques (wood frame) in the United States.

The Gropius crib in Massachusetts (1938).

This is another one of those fabulous architect books by Taschen I’m currently addicted to. A great introduction to a great architect with lots of great photos.

Side note: Gropius is also famous for designing an icon of Modern doorware, the lever handle:

That's purdy!

Side-side note: Check out the submission (below) Adolf Loos had for the Chicago Tribune building. Dude was post-Modern before po-Mo was (un)cool!

Loos: Why you so wacky?

haiku for the book “Towards a New Architecture” by Le Corbusier

heavy carpets heave

keep your floors clear of debris

demand a vacuum

This book, first published in 1923, was an unexpected delight. Unexpected in the sense that it was readable (unlike most of Frank Lloyd Wright’s scribblings) and still (mostly) relevant almost 100 years later. Like Wright, Le Corbusier (pronounced core-boo-see-eh and referred to as “Corbu” by the cool kids) was a freakin genius, essentially perfecting Modernism. His houses are timeless; his designs still crisp and contemporary (contemporary in the sense they could easily be designed today and fit into the Modern meme seamlessly). Every time I see a photo of one of his houses with an automobile-o-the-day parked in front, I giggle like a drunken sorority girl. Oh to have lived back in those years and seen one of his creations for the first time!

The actual title of his book, properly translated, is “Towards an Architecture” not “Towards a New Architecture”. Probably because his architecture was so radical, translators (editors?) changed the title, and thus subtly changed Corbu’s main point: Architecture as architecture needs to change.

The book is a collection of essays he wrote for the magazine L’Esprit Nouveau. The main thrust of the essays is that architecture needs to change its dusty and crusty ways and be optimized to the people who use it. Corbu refers to and includes photos of automobiles, steamships, and airplanes (and grain silos!) noting that the clean designs of these machines and practical solutions were functional yet beautiful.

Corbu spills his famous quote here: “A house is a machine for living in.” Many, including Wright, have misinterpreted this quote to mean that a house should literally be a machine. What Corbu was really trying to say is that just as an automobile is carefully designed to meet its purpose (for driving in), so should a house (for living in). (He also writes that “An armchair is a machine for sitting in”. Hee hee!). Corbu questions the dogma and assumptions of architecture and design back in the day where living was required to bend to that dogma and those assumptions. He simply notes that architecture should bend to the people that plan to use it.

He includes a “Manual of the Dwelling” enumerating his thoughts on a house:

Demand a bathroom looking south, one of the largest rooms in the house or flat, the old drawing-room for instance. One wall to be entirely glazed, opening if possible on to a balcony for sun baths; the most up-to-date fittings with a shower-bath and gymnastic appliances.

An adjoining room to be a dressing-room in which you can dress and undress. Never undress in your bedroom. It is not a clean thing to do and makes the room horribly untidy. In this room demand fitments for your linen and clothing, not more than 5 feet in height, with drawers, hangers, etc.

Demand one really large living room instead of a number of small ones.

Demand bare walls in your bedroom, your living room and your dining-room. Built-in fittings to take the place of much of the furniture, which is expensive to buy, takes up too much room and needs looking after.

If you can, put the kitchen at the top of the house to avoid smells.

Demand concealed or diffused lighting.

Demand a vacuum cleaner.

Buy only practical furniture and never buy decorative “pieces.” If you want to see bad taste, go into the houses of the rich. Put only a few pictures on your walls, and none but good ones.

Keep your odds and ends in drawers or cabinets.

The gramaphone or the pianola or wireless will give you exact interpretations of first rate music, and you will avoid catching cold in the concert hall, and the frenzy of the virtuoso.

Demand ventilating panes to the windows in every room.

Teach your children that a house is only habitable when it is full of light and air, and when the walls and floors are clear. To keep your floors in order eliminate heavy furniture and thick carpets.

Demand a separate garage to your dwelling.

Demand that your maid’s room should not be in the attic. Do not park your servants under your roof.

Take a flat which is one size smaller than what your parents accustomed you to. Bear in mind economy in your actions, your household management and in your thoughts.

(Note to self: Demand a vacuum cleaner from the architect [We have requested a central vacuum, but we haven’t demanded one yet!].)

Although Corbu’s flavor of Modern is described as cold, he was truly a humanist, bending his theories at the knees to bow before humanity.

Corbu goes on, somewhat poetically:

Every modern man has the mechanical sense. The feeling for mechanics exists and is justified by our daily activities. This feeling in regard to machinery is one of deep respect, gratitude, and esteem.

Machinery includes economy as an essential factor leading to minute selection. There is a moral sentiment in the feeling for mechanics.

The man who is intelligent, cold and calm has grown wings to himself [blogger’s note: This is stated on a page with photos of airplanes.]

Men--intelligent, cold and calm--are needed to build the house and lay out the town.

In essense, what The Corbu is saying is that the machine ethic, that ethic of the cold-hearted engineer to design in a practical and cost-effective manner, needs to be brought into the design of our homes and cities.

However, Corbu recognizes that architecture is not simply practical design:

You employ stone, wood and concrete, and with these materials you build houses and palaces; that is construction. Ingenuity is at work.

But suddenly you touch my heart, you do me good, I am happy and I say: “This is beautiful.” That is Architecture. Art enters in.

My house is practical. I thank you, as I might thank Railway engineers or the telephone service. You have not touched my heart.

But suppose that walls rise towards heaven in such a way that I am moved. [...] That is Architecture.

Although practical design can accidentally lead to beauty (see grain silos), it’s best not to leave beauty to accident:

Architecture is the skilful, accurate and magnificent play of masses seen in light...

Corbu goes on to note that the Modern age, the transfer of people from rural to urban areas, from working in a field with family to working in a factory with the faceless, threatens family fabric which in turn threatens civilization. He notes that architecture at a home or city scale can be used to offset these threats, maximizing family interaction and interaction with nature, basic needs of our species. And he further notes that if these basics needs are not met we risk social unrest and the ruin of civilization. With this, Le Corbusier ends with these words and this photo:

Architecture or Revolution.

Revolution can be avoided.

The influence of this book on architecture cannot be avoided. If you are interested in architecture, you shouldn’t avoid this book, either.

did Modern come from mud?

“Vernacular architecture” is essentially a fancy term for “traditional buildings not designed by architects”. A more sophisticated definition might be “architecture that uses locally available resources and traditions to address local needs and circumstances.” Since anything developed as “new” always rests on the shoulders of something that came before, it’s not surprising that the Modern movement was influenced by certain architectural traditions of the deep and not so deep past. I’ve often wondered if the Modern movement was in part inspired by the earthy edges of southwestern adobes and the ethereal white blockiness of seaside hovels in the Aegean sea. As it turns out, it was!

Although he denied it (“Resemblances are mistaken for influences.”), Frank Lloyd Wright was clearly influenced by traditional Japanese architecture. He saw the Ho-o-den, the Japanese building at the 1893 Columbian Exposition in Chicago. He was an avid collector of Japanese prints (his design depictions were clearly influenced by these prints). And he most likely read Edward Morse’s book “Japanese Homes and Their Surroundings” published in 1886.

Wright was likely inspired by the horizontality of Japanese architecture as well as the large eaves and open spaces, elements that appear in his Prairie and Usonian phases. While in Japan overseeing the construction of the Imperial Hotel, he experienced the Korean tradition of heating a room through pipes in the floor, something he would employ later in his Usonian homes.

Photos of the Ho-o-den at the 1893 Columbian Exhibition

Wright, as well as many of the Modern masters, were either directly or indirectly influenced by the Arts and Crafts (also called the Craftsman) movement, a movement characterized by simple forms, local and natural materials, and hand-made (vernacular) craftsmanship intended to rebel against the machine-age and over-indulgent Victorians. Started in England about 1860, Many Craftsman houses included built-ins and furniture meant to compliment the architecture, traits picked up by the Modernists.

Indirectly, Wright, through the publication of his Wasmuth Portfolio in Germany in 1910, introduced his Japanese influences to the germinating Modern movement in Europe. However, vernacular architecture also played a more direct role in the development of Europe’s modernism. While prospecting for marble, Adolf Loos, he of “Ornament and Crime”, happened upon the architecture of the Cyclades Islands in the Aegean Sea (Skyros in particular). Cycladic architecture is cubic and blindingly white (sound familiar?). These buildings are blocky and flat-roofed to resist strong winds and white to reflect the hot sun. And herds of these blocky white buildings huddling against the mountainside is nothing short of breathtaking. It’s easy to understand how buildings on these little islands greatly influenced Loos’s architecture.

Scenes of Skyros. Catch your breath!

Interestingly, about the same time, Mediterranean architecture from a different shore and continent was being planted into the early Modern movement in California through the work of Irving Gill and Frank Mead. Gill worked for Adler & Sullivan in Chicago the same time Frank Lloyd Wright did before moving to San Diego (Louis Sullivan advised employees to “look toward the silent walls of Africa”). In 1900, Gill worked to stabilize the ruins of the Mission San Diego de Alcala and became impressed with its straightforward simplicity, economy in the use of materials, and emphasis on utility, elements he began to include in his own work. In 1907, he teamed up with Frank Mead to design what many consider to be the first Modern homes in California (or, at the very least, the first protoModern homes). Mead, as part of a commission to photograph Bedouins in Northern Africa, documented the vernacular architecture of northern Africa and the Mediterranean, something that clearly influenced the simple white structures the two designed during their brief one year collaboration.

Mission San Diego de Alcala.

Rudolph Schindler, a student of Loos, traveled the western United States in 1915 including Taos, New Mexico, writing that he had found "the first buildings in America which have a real feeling for the ground which carries them". Schindler was smitten by the native pueblo architecture and even designed an adobe-inspired house while he was there. In a letter to Richard Neutra, he wrote “When I speak of American architecture I must say at once that there is none. . .The only buildings which testify to the deep feeling for soil on which they stand are the sun-baked adobe buildings of the first immigrants and their successors — Spanish and Mexican — in the south-western part of the country.” 

Later in the trip, Schindler traveled to California where he saw (and photographed) several of Gill and Mead’s houses. He later worked for Frank Lloyd Wright before heading out on his own in 1921. His first project out on in his own post-Wright was his own house, influenced, in part, by the New Mexican pueblos. The El Pueblo Ribera Court Apartments in San Diego are also influenced by pueblos and sometimes described as Pueblo Revivalism.

Schindler knew how to ride a horse (photo'd in the Land of Enchantment).

Taos Pueblo (photo by Schindler).

The country home Schindler designed (unbuilt).

Similar to Loos, Le Corbusier was also influenced by the architecture of the Aegean Sea, but he was also influenced by vernacular architecture of a more recent vintage and purpose. As illustrated in his 1923 book “Towards an Architecture”, he was smitten with grain elevators! At first this might seem ludicrous, but grain elevators tend to be geometric, unadorned, and purely driven by purpose. The photos of grain elevators in Corbusier’s book came from an article published in 1917 by none other than Gropius, another fan of Midwestern grain elevators.

These grain silos are totally hot.

And finally, Wright, whether he liked it or not, was later influenced by Loos, Corbusier, Gropius, and even Schindler. The development of Modern architecture was a beautiful hot mess of cross pollination with each architect observing, learning, assimilating, adapting, and processing as they each developed their own style. All of it, as it turns out, has Organic roots, re-employing what was learned long ago by ancient builders and adapting lessons to modern living, a process that continues today.