Austin 1964!

Preservation Austin held its annual homes tour yesterday, showcasing five mid-century modern homes, and they were fantastic! The houses were all from the 1950s; the 1964 bit in the title of the tour is to point out that 50 years ago, the threshold for historic destination in Austin, fully encompasses mid-century modern.

There were two homes I really wanted to gawk at: An MCM over on 45th street and a trio of apartments by Harwell Hamilton Harris. Sadly, photos were not allowed, so all I have are street shots and whatever I could find on the interwebs.

The stunner IMHO was the Crume House just off 45th street:

my photo

Built in the 1950s (seems to be unclear exactly when...), the house was designed and built by Herbert C. Crume, an architect who graduated from The University of Texas and designed the Mueller Airport. The house is structurally supported by I-beams, has a strong de Stijl feel, and, on the backside, slowly and gorgeously drops off into Shoal Creek. The house is nearly completely original down to the curtains in the master bedroom (the Crumes sold it to the current owners in 2010). The current owners updated the kitchen (and received Mr. Crume's approval as he was there answering questions) and fantastically reworked the landscaping. Lots of glass, lots of brick, and lots of pure loveliness. The photos don't do the place justice.

their photo (J.C. Schmeil)

their photo (J.C. Schmeil)

their photo (J.C. Schmeil)

Harwell Hamilton Harris was part of the second wave of modernists, on the heels of Schindler and Neutra, to grace the California scene. After seeing Schindler and Neutra's Jardinette Apartments under construction in Los Angeles, he sought out the architects at the Schindler-Chace House in Hollywood. He quit school at that point to work with Neutra, even working on details at the Schindler-Chace House for the Neutra's Lovell Health House. Harris worked alongside Gregory Ain in Neutra's practice until 1933 when he and Ain set out for themselves. Schindler's wife, Pauline, was a strong advocate for Harris and his work. From 1952 to 1955, Harris was the dean of the architecture department at The University of Texas before moving his practice to Dallas.

The Harwell Hamilton Harris designed Cranfill-Beacham Apartments (1958) struck me as a homage to the Schindler-Chace House: Raw concrete (albeit block) and redwood. The units are essentially one-bedroom apartments with a two-story living area with the bedrooms on open second-story balconies. Despite their urban (in the middle of town) and awkward (essentially in a backyard) setting, Harris arranged the structure to maximize and engage outdoor space. The apartments are one of the first mid-century modern structures to receive an historic designation in Austin (application here).

my photo

their photo (J.C. Schmeil)

their photo (J.C. Schmeil)

via Preservation Austin

Wrightian low-height entryway (photo via here)

Wrightian low-height entryway (photo via here)

Arthur Fehr was a locally prominent architect who graduated from The University of Texas in 1925. In his early career, during the Great Depression, he worked on the restoration of one of the San Antonio missions and then with the National Park Service. By 1937 he had started his own practice, later teaming up with Charles Granger, and began to be deeply influenced by the work of Walter Gropius and the Bauhaus.

The Fehr House was a house he designed and built for himself circa 1949. Beautifully located on a ridge at the eastern lip of the Hill Country, the back of the house has panoramic views westward over the hills and one of the coolest carports I've ever seen. The house is gorgeous, with the current owners having made a number of modifications to update the house both inside and outside, including an amazingly amazing landscape (something the current owners do professionally as Modern Pools, Inc.). 

my photo

my photo

photo by Paul Bardagjy

photo by Paul Bardagjy

photo by Paul Bardagjy

photo by Paul Bardagjy

photo by Paul Bardagjy

photo by Paul Bardagjy

photo by Paul Bardagjy

photo by Paul Bardagjy

photo by Paul Bardagjy

photo by Paul Bardagjy

photo by Paul Bardagjy

their photo (J.C. Schmeil)

their photo (J.C. Schmeil)

photo of the house just after the current owners bought it

photo by Ezra Stoller for House Beautiful

Roy Earl Dillard attended The University of Texas (with service during WWII in the middle) and graduated in 1949. After working for various firms for several years, he started his own practice in 1955, designing, among many other structures, some 22 churches.

The house he designed and built for himself (and expanded in the sixties) is quite lovely, with head-height hallway windows, open living areas, and comfortable spaces. Dillard, influenced by Neutra but clearly by Frank Lloyd Wright as well (the house has many Usonian attributes), worked out of an office built on the lower level.

The current owners have updated some windows and the landscaping and have a wonderful eye for decorating and art (and have a Marfa Ballroom poster we've been lusting over!).

my photo

their photo (J.C. Schmeil)

their photo (J.C. Schmeil)

their photo (J.C. Schmeil)

MLS photo, before current owners

MLS photo, before current owners

MLS photo, before current owners

their photo (J.C. Schmeil)

The Thorne brothers hired Ronald G. Roessner, a professor of architecture at The University of Texas at Austin, to design a house for each of them on Balcones Drive on the outskirts of town in the 1950s. Newsweek named the first house, later demolished (foundation problems, according to a tour guide), as the House of the Year in 1955. The second house, built in 1956, still exists in its original glory with the new owners planning to restore it (the daughter of the Thornes was hanging out in her old bedroom at the back of the house!). Hopefully the restored house will be on a future tour! 

my photo with an era car out front

their photo (J.C. Schmeil)

via MLS

via MLS

via MLS

via MLS

via MLS

via MLS

via MLS

a cubist gourmet-club meal

Our corner of the 'hood holds a monthly gourmet club where a host defines a theme and partakers prepare a dish in-the-spirit-of-the-theme to share. We hosted last night (with co-hosts from just down the street) with a theme of "Cubism" in honor of the house (although the house is really neoplastic, but I'm not sure how neoplastic food goes down...). Got distracted with giving a home tour so I sadly wasn't able to photograph all the food, but I got some of it (including bar-b-cubed [har! har!]). Another neighbor got confused and brought Cuban food (sigh... those people on Greenlawn...). One neighbor even baked a cake in the shape of the house!

lifted from The Poetry of Site

The Judd picnic table worked great. The bride counted at least 15 people sitting round the table at one point (!!!). We need to work on backyard lighting, particularly where we had the food. Time to break out and restore Mack Brown's lampshade? (yes, we own Mack Brown's lampshade, a giant lampshade from his downtown condo we snagged via a home tour that included our last house).

Lots of cubed food. Good thing we have a cubist toilet...

haiku for the book "The International Style" by Henry-Russel Hitchcock and Philip Johnson

“Architecture is always a set of actual monuments, not a vague corpus of theory.”

new architecture

the international style

1932

I saw a post somewheres of this book for sale, an original 1932 version signed by Philip Johnson, for $9,500, and thought “Hot doobie-dang! I need to read that sucker!!!" Fortunately I was able to do so by buying a later reprint (1995) at a much lower cost. As added bonuses, the reprint includes a 1951 article by Hitchcock focused on the 20 years after publication of the original book, a 1966 foreword by Hitchcock, and a 1995 foreword by Johnson. All for fifteen bucks!

Johnson’s foreword is entertaining (written 63 years after the original publication!) and sets the 1932 stage in such a way as to lower expectations about the book. He recalls that he had been put in charge of the architectural wing of the Museum of Modern Art two weeks after meeting the museum’s director despite knowing nothing about architecture (“You will,” replied the director).

The book is a fantastic and fascinating read. Despite Johnson calling it, in his opening retrospect, “preachy and schoolmarmish“, I found it appropriately flexible in defining “The International Style”, noting that there are many exceptions to the “rules”, especially in the hands of talented architects. Johnson’s wincing hindsight is perhaps colored by the fact that he later abandoned the International Style. “The International Style had a longer life, it seems to me now, than ever it deserved.” he writes.

A photo of the MoMA show. Note the hordes.

Johnson notes that Hitchcock wrote the book but that they acted as a team in choosing the works for the 1932 museum show and in debating the merits of what was and what was not modern and what was and what was not good modern. He also notes that the show and accompanying tome were not that popular, both in terms of attendance and attention by the press and in terms of acceptance by the architectural world. Nevertheless, the show served as an important benchmark in architecural modernism, prompted dicussions as to whether or not the new architecture was a style, introduced modernism to a larger audience in the United States, and ultimately planted the seeds for Mies van der Rohe and Walter Gropius to come to America as the Nazis became more powerful and domineering right before World War II.

As in many things in this technology-driven world, Hitchcock and Johnson explain that there are two stories to the history of Modern: the story of building technology and the story of aesthetics. On building technology, the introduction of steel construction followed by steel-reinforced concrete that opened a path for Modern. On the aesthetics side, the story is more complicated, but boils down to the architects of the day rebelling against the architecture of the past: “[t]he individualists decried submission to fixed aesthetic principles as the imposition of a dead hand upon the living material of architecture...”.

Hitchcock and Johnson describe the roots of modern tapping into Greek architecture (think Parthenon) and the ideological part of the neo-Gothic movement. They observe that, in Greek and Gothic architecture, “the aestheic expression is based on structure and form” rather than ornamentation. The neo-Goths rebelled against neoclassicism and demanded to see the structure of a building (think flying buttresses). Hitchcock and Johnson also identify Karl Schinkel, John Soane, and Henri Labrouste as well as Henry van de Velde and Aguste Perre as early precursors of Modernism.

Hitchcock and Johnson bow towards Frank Lloyd Wright’s hefty contributions to Modernism with his open planning of interiors and designs of planes existing freely in three dimensions (a precursor to and influence of Neoplasticism). As the authors note, “Wagner, Behrens and Perret lightened the solid massiveness of traditional architecture; Wright dynamited it.” The authors further note that Corbusier advanced the open plan, and Mies further advanced it (and ultimately mastered it, really, in domestic and institutional construction).

Hitchcock and Johnson identify Le Corbusier, Oud, Gropius, and Mies van der Rohe as leaders of the movement (years later Hitchcock acknowledged that Rietveld should have been in this list instead of Oud). 

Hitchcock and Johnson also spend some time teasing out the differences between functionalism and (lacking a better term) aestheticism in the new architecture, an architectural battle raging at the time. The functionalists held that buildings should be judged purely on how they address their purpose with no evaluation of aesthetics. Essentially, functionalism is architecture by engineers, an extreme form of Louis Sullivan's “form ever follows function”. Hitchcock and Johnson seem to delight in pointing out the aesthetic compromises the functionalists took and therefore quickly disposed of functionalism as architecture. Nevertheless, they also note that good architecture doesn’t necessarily require architects. 

Hitchcock and Johnson spend the rest of the book identifing the principles of the International Style: (1) Architecture as Volume, (2) Regularity, and (3) Avoidance of Applied Ornamentation (with a bonus mini-principle: Surfacing Material).

Their first principle, Architecture as Volume, concerns using columns to free space in the interior and along the facade. Columnar support allows for window walls and ribbon windows (long horizontal windows). Hitchcock and Johnson also consider asymmetry in the functionalists' light noting that “[t]he mark of a bad modern architect is the positive cultivation of asymmetry for decorative purposes.” They also express a general, but not absolute, distaste for gabled roofs, preferring roofs of a single slant if a flat roof was not possible. They also acknowledge site: “Choice of site, and the arrangement of buildings upon those sites: these are the prime problems of the international style in relation to natural surroundings.” They deem curves to be appropriate, especially if included for functional purposes such as a stairwell or a water tank (functionalists didn’t like curves because they were [and continue to be...] expensive). Critiques of buildings later in the book also show an appreciation of the expression of individualism.

Their second principle, Regularity, concerns consistency in design. For example, the spacing (and subsequent rhythm) of supports and windows and the consistant use of materials. 

Their third principle is Avoidance of Applied Decoration. They call for no ornamentation, simple window construction, and clean parapets. They note that the building itself is ornament: proportions, fenestration, railings. Interestingly (and unexpectedly) they are not anti-color and instead note that “...color should be both technically and psychologically permanent.” Many of the architectural examples presented in the book include color (described in the caption since the original photographs, and hence the book, were published in black and white). They note that art and sculpture should not be fused with the architecture and decree (correctly!) that Modern architecture makes a great backdrop to art. They explain that “[t]here is no better decoration for a room than a wall of book-filled shelves.”

The bonus mini-principle is Surfacing Material, referring to the continuity of material, typically smoothness, typically through stucco. Interesting that it shows up in the text after the first principle instead of the last, where it makes more sense.

The biggest controversy spawned by the book was whether or not the architecture described by their term “The International Style” was, in fact, a style. The proponents and practitioners of the new architecture protested emphatically that it was not a style, since they were trying to define a universal architecture (ironic when you consider they were creating a new dead hand to lay upon future architects). Furthermore, calling something a "style" was the same as placing a tombstone at the head of the movement. Styles become outdated; therefore, innovators of the time were attempting to create a new and everlasting movement of architecture. Nevertheless, the moniker stuck. Hitchcock and Johnson allude to there being a single time and place where there were no architectural styles because “...there were no styles in the Garden of Eden!”

Included at the end of the book are a large number of photographs of buildings in the new style. The captions are entertaining as heck as the authors, in their mid-twenties, critique various structures:

“Badly placed wooden fly-screen frames mar the fenestration.” (perhaps starting modern’s hatred of screens?) about a Corbusier house.

“The top balcony is unnessarily heavy.” about a Gropius building.

“The projection of the roof cap is unfortunate.” about a Gropius building.

“The design [is] complicated by the various projections and the confusing use of metal and stucco spandrels...” about Richard Neutra’s Lovell Health House.

“The fenestration is arbitrary and complicated.” about an apartment building by Hans Scharoun.

“Clear design marred by bad window detail.” about a house by Hans Schmidt.

“Unfortunate contrast of vertical and horizontal brick courses.” about a house by Lois Welzenbacher.

And my personal favorite: “Bricks, when laid traditionally, suggest masonry construction...”.  

Oh really?

I imagine these pocket-critiques were what Johnson was referring to when he dismissed the book as “preachy and schoolmarmish” (and justifiably so). Interesting that the text was so accommodating while the captions were highly judgmental. 

Nevertheless, also included in these photos is something that makes my inner feminist smile: recognition of Charlotte Perriand (interesting that her name was later dropped from “Corbusier’s” furniture), Lilly Reich (similarly later dropped), and Helene de Mandrot. Cool. (Although they dod not include Gray's E-1027 house built in 1929.)

Sadly, none of the later writings mention omitting R.M. Schindler, the father of West Coast Modern and a major influence on Nuetra (although Hitchcock and Johnson were too enamoured with the Europeans to care, I reckon). After Schindler died, Johnson wrote:

 "R. M. Schindler was among the great pioneers of modern architecture in this country. His work was not only great in itself but had a lasting influence for the good in later modern development. His single minded devotion fo the main principles of architecture was extraordinary and should serve as an example to the younger architects of our time."

Johnson later blamed Neutra for Schindler’s exclusion, accusing him of hiding Schindler’s work that would have most likely gotten him into the show had Neutra taken him there. Nonetheless, the oversight wasn't so large as to deem later mention and inclusion in subsequent versions of the book.

In Hitchcock’s 1951 retrospective, he writes that he would have replaced ornamentation with articulation (!!!), would have called early efforts “early modern” instead of “half modern”, and would have included Wright as a modernist based on the Yahara Boat Club and the Elizabeth Noble apartment building. A big part of the reason for this was his later architectural love affair with Wright climaxing in 1942 with a book titled “In the Nature of Materials, 1887-1941: The Buildings of Frank Lloyd Wright”.

All in all a visionary book that is still relevant today. The biggest shock to me was the acceptance of color. The limitations of black and white photography created a constant palette, but the birth of the International Style was quite colorful!

Wright's Yahara Boat Club, 1902 (credit)

Wright's plan for Elizabeth Noble's apartment building, 1929

Schindler's Lovell Beach House, 1922-1926; not "International Style" enough for Hitchcock and Johnson