Busta Guggenheim-en

Too graphic?

Anyway, today was my first venture into the facility known as the Guggenheim New York. 'twas most appropriate as a first visit as the primary exhibition contained the life's work of a certain Mr. Frank Lloyd Wright. (More on him in a subsequent post.)

I will preface my observations by saying that I had first read about the exhibition in, perhaps it was June's, Architectural Record. In the issue were two articles, one intended to alert readers of the summer-long exhibition and one intended to critique it. The critique was pretty... harsh? To paraphrase, "the displays suck, the tables suck, the lighting sucks, even the name of the exhibition sucks. You can't ask a museum curator to understand architecture." Perhaps I dramatize. Additionally there was an article in a recent Metropolis magazine highlighting the exhibition, though the contents of the article were far less pointed.

In mine own observations, off the bat the "bowl" portion of the museum seemed small. I reckon in the glossies, there is always a tendency to convey a much larger space than as in actuality (I felt a similar volumetric letdown at the Jubilee Church by Meier). It was a little chaotic getting started - maybe I was just exhausted from my foot trek around NYC, or I was overwhelmed by the masses of people. The elevator was an implausible first step (huge ass line), and the stairs were fragmented - a couple flights here, a couple flights there. I imagine it would be a far more enchanting experience if it weren't for the humidity and swarms of tourists. Damn people, ruining architectural space.

Descending the ramp, I found the irregular slope to be somewhat uncomfortable. Maybe that's due to my positional sensitivity and proneness to vertigo. Like how I offer jabs and follow up with excuses? As the museum is round, it does seem impractical. How many paintings or artworks do you create on a curved medium? The way they rigged the drawings against the rounded outer wall had a rather adverse effect. It made an already darkened (from age) drawing difficult to read. I guess you can't shine light directly onto 90-year-old masterworks. Also the tables in the center of the floor were odd, though I'm not sure how else one would display items in that space. I think the various models were displayed quite nicely, however. That is, the ones that were head-height. Placing a fine-crafted model at waist height is somewhat of a... waste. Pun intended.

In conclusion, the building would be a much more comfortable experience without all the people congesting it. That's somewhat of a crummy sentiment when it comes to a public building. Then again, that's just me, and heaven knows I my designs have flaws.

As for the work contained within this great white beast, I found them most satisfying. I had hoped to see more residential projects, as far as I remember only Taliesin was the only one presented. Most of his presented works were "unbuilt." Though it was definitely righteous to check those out. It is possible I missed a side room that contained more of the smaller scale projects, but somehow I doubt it. I will also note that at several drawings I couldn't help but think, "man, if I showed up to a crit with this I'd get torn up." Not to say his drawings weren't beautiful, he tended to turn each one into a composition. But some of them, I could see a juror saying, "if that's how you're going to draw cars, you should just leave them out of it." or "are those figures to scale? They look disproportionate." Or "your inconsistent hatching is distracting." Again, dramatization.

Perhaps further comments will surface in the future, for now I am spent. 'twas a long hot day and I have exhaustion. I will conclude that I am super glad I finally got to the Guggenheim and that it was for this exhibition. I wonder if it is always as crowded as it was (we waited in line about 15 minutes for tickets).

And Then There Were Three

We have all at least heard of the New York Five, a group of provocative architects who were the standard-bearers of neo-modernism, each one of them a unique individual, each one of them obedient to a common dogma. Personally, I like to think of them as the characters of a Saturday morning cartoon show or a boy-band. Just think. It totally works:

 

The Quiet One

The Tough One

The Funny One

The Cute One

The Nerdy One

 

I’ll let you guess which one I think is which. Of course, Arthur Drexler is Simon Cowell.

 

But on a more serious note, this month we lost Charles Gwathmey at 71 to esophageal cancer and while he may not have been the most famous of the Five, he was part of a movement that defined a lot about what architecture is today, especially in the United States. Gwathmey was born in 1938 in Charlotte, North Carolina. He did his undergraduate degree at Penn and got his masters from Yale. His first major work was the house he designed for his parents in the mid 1960’s:

 

 

This work, unlike so many early modernist works of the 1920s and 30s, is not additive, but subtractive. When looking at any Le Corbusier work you’ll see his theories of the basic Roman forms connecting to create a whole, but here in the Gwathmey House you’ll see that the building was already a whole, to which the cuts have been made and portions removed so that we may live in the nook. Like a bird living in a tree or marble as it is chipped away to become a sculpture. Where modernism stopped there the Five began.  

 

Probably the most famous of all his works was the addition to the Guggenheim Museum in New York, originally designed by Frank Lloyd Wright and opened in 1959 (Wright had died six months before the official grand opening). In the early 1990’s Gwathmey Siegel & Associates Architects LLC was commissioned to make an addition to the iconic building and the controversy was rampant. There were some who would have preferred an entirely new building built to house the over-flowing connection somewhere else rather than an addition to the pre-existing. When Gwathmey and Siegel’s scheme was revealed the collective snickering response was:

 

 “They’ve made the Guggenheim into a toilet”  

 

 

 

(This was especially true for me, because I was seven at the time and anything that has to do with a toilet was, is, and will forever be, hysterical.)

 

However! If we look past the one-liner, we can see that by creating an addition specifically different in form, texture, philosophy and soul, Gwathmey wanted to create a balance for the Guggenheim. Gwathmey put up something so radically unlike the original that no one would ever confuse them. By creating a building that is a humble backdrop (though he would never agree that the addition is either humble or a backdrop), Gwathmey may have saved Frank Lloyd Wright’s magnum opus the shame of having a pretentious copy built next to it. Can’t you just see it? Just lying there, embarrassing everyone who would have had to walk by. Love it or hate it you have to admit Gwathmey was wise not to try and imitate or intimidate a master.

 

As for his affiliation with the New York five, they went the way all boy-bands go. One of them flirts with an equally volatile pop-singer who drives a wedge in the group (I’m looking at YOU Michael Graves/Postmodernism) and eventually they all break off and start solo-careers. Some of them can escape the Teen Scene (Architectural Record), Tiger Beat (Harvard Design Magazine) and, god help you, BOP (Architectural Digest) posters but most can never shake what they used to be. But Gwathmey didn’t want to, like Richard Meier, he truly believed that modernism holds the answers to Architecture. This is not to say his style didn’t evolve and mature, but he never lost what the New York Five was really about.   

 

 

 

Also, in case you were wondering:

 

John Hejduk

Richard Meier
Peter Eisenmann

Michael Graves

Charles Gwathmey

 

In that order specifically.

 

R.I.P. Charlie you'll be missed.