Friday, March 18, 2016

Week 6

This week, I discovered how Wright’s Usonian style endeavored to use his architecture to both express and mold the shifting American psyche. At the same time, I tried to determine the educational factors influencing interest in architectural careers by sending out surveys to the architecture apprentices at Taliesin West, the high school seniors at BASIS Scottsdale, and sixth- grade art students at BASIS Scottsdale (Thank you everyone for responding!). More experimentally, Mr. Cleland kindly allowed me to test the effectiveness of my Robie House geometric leaded glass lesson plan on his sixth grade students. All this activity will supply data on how Taliesin West can best tailor its educational outreach to encourage aspiring architects.



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THINKING OUTSIDE THE BOX—LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY

Not only was Frank Lloyd Wright continually on a quest to deconstruct the box—moving supports from the corners to the center, ringing bands of art-glass windows around the perimeter, innovating glass corner windows—the architect simultaneously sought to reconstruct American society. In the 1930s, Wright created two visions for the new American lifestyle: one utopian, the other practical. His plans for the imaginary Broadacre City proved both fanciful and foresighted—a more aesthetically pleasing forerunner of Levittown’s later birth of suburbia. However, his affordable and attractive Usonian homes ushered in a new era of ranch-style housing for the middle class.

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BROADACRE CITY

Retreating from the scandals of his three marriages and two fires in the 1920s—his own personal Depression years—Wright sought refuge in his work: penning his autobiography, expanding his Taliesin home to teach students at the Taliesin Fellowship, and conjuring up an antidote to the rampant urbanization which he found so unnatural. Wright, together with his apprentices, translated his social ideals into an architectural model called Broadacre City, which resembled the yet-to-be created suburbs but with the caveat that every home would enjoy a small plot of farmland, providing self-sufficiency as a shield to the Depression-era scarcity. The model of his dream city—actually a decentralized non-city—toured the country to much acclaim, rebuilding Wright’s reputation along the way (Thorne-Thomsen, Frank Lloyd Wright for Kids).

Wright's sketches of Broadacre City; Source: Paleofuture

Notice futuristic cars and helicopters; Source: Paleofuture
For Wright, architectural design could solve social issues such as overcrowding and alienation of urban life. Technology was to be helpmate to nature. Wright loved the relatively-new automobile and electricity, giving Americans the freedom to spread out. Broadacre City seemed a democratic alternative to Soviet communism of the day: Wright believed that giving every American an acre of land would restructure society in a more democratic way (Novak, “Broadacre City: Frank Lloyd Wright’s Unbuilt Suburban Utopia”).

Source: Architecture Daily
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USONIAN HOMES

Moving from fantasy to reality, Wright tackled the need for new, inexpensive housing as the U.S. climbed out of the Great Depression in the late 1930s and 1940s. His prior clients had all been wealthy, indulging Wright’s tendency to come in over budget. Wright perceived that the American lifestyle was changing, and he wanted a new architecture to serve the needs of the average American.

The idea for the Usonian house style first came to Wright as he was designing Broadacre City. While many architects at the time argued that Wright’s one-family houses were counterproductive to solving the rapid population growth in cities, Wright viewed “family homes as autonomous estates in a presently shiftless, rootless mass society and as a humanization of that society” (March, Forward of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Usonian Houses: Designs for Moderate Cost One-Family Homes).

Source: Amazon
No one is quite sure why Wright named this style “Usonian.” Perhaps it is from the discussion swirling in Europe about whether the acronym for the United States should be changed to U.S.O.N.A. (The United States of North America) to avoid confusion with the newly formed Union of South Africa. Whatever the origin, the name grew to encompass Wright’s vision for the reformed American society he tried to effect for the last 25 years of his life (Sergeant, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Usonian Houses: Designs for Moderate Cost One-Family Homes).

Wright latched on to this idea to describe his desire for a distinctly American architecture that was both organic and Usonian, stemming from Wright’s belief that a culture or individual should grow “out of the ground and into the light” (Sergeant, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Usonian Houses: Designs for Moderate Cost One-Family Homes).

Usonian houses were modern, simple, and dynamic, designed to reflect the American psyche and landscape. Diagonally cutting the box in half, a triangle emerges. Wright then further deconstructed that triangle, leaving only the L-shaped edge, an organic shape Wright called a “polliwog” and capable of adjusting to meet the needs of a growing family (Sergeant, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Usonian Houses: Designs for Moderate Cost One-Family Homes).

Jacobs House Floor Plan; Source: apartmenttherapy.com

Often L-shaped to provide privacy and maximize garden space, these single-family, one-story buildings were highly standardized and modest to make them affordable for the average American family. Garages were essential components of the suburban homes, as Wright recognized the importance of cars to the modern American (“Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright”).

Wright’s Usonian houses were not only simple in shape to reduce cost but were constructed of simple materials: only brick, wooden planks, and glass. Wright further implemented flat roofs to allow for natural cooling and to remove the need for rain gutters (rain just ran off). However, possibly the most innovative aspect of the Usonian houses was their radiant-floor heating systems. The houses were built on top of a slab of concrete fitted with hot-water pipes that ran beneath the floor. The heat from these pipes would radiate through the floor and heat the entire building (“Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright”).

He banished squared-off and sealed-off kitchens staffed by hired servants. The kitchen became a workspace in the center of the house, open to the dining area which also relinquished its separate room status and morphed into an alcove of the living room (Lind, The Wright Style).

Source: Usoniandreams.info
Not only did Wright eliminate unnecessary walls, he banished the need for skilled craftsmen by introducing a grid system to make construction what he called “Usonian Automatic.” These “little do-it-yourself house[s]” epitomized Wright’s much-praised quality of “tenuity”: steel reinforcing embedded in concrete that allows push-and-pull and makes it “virtually indestructible,” a technique he used to build the Imperial Hotel that survived Japan’s catastrophic earthquake in 1923. Because a worker only needs to follow patterns in the grooved edge of blocks, skilled craftsmen are not needed (Frank Lloyd Wright, His Living Voice). This inventive horizontal planning grid—what Wright called a “unit system”—was a rectangle measuring two by four feet. Masterminding the construction, it was even etched into the actual concrete floor. Using only two by fours reduced waste further. In this way, Usonian almost self-build homes further the cooperative communities espoused in Broadacre City (Sergeant, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Usonian Houses: Designs for Moderate Cost One-Family Homes).

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JACOBS HOUSE

Sixth on the list of Wright’s UNESCO-nominated buildings is the first Usonian house that Wright built: the Herbert and Katherine Jacobs House, completed in 1937 in Madison, Wisconsin. Incorporating the above-mentioned Usonian architecture, Wright delivered a low-cost, simple but elegant, and, above-all, organic home.

Source: usonianvisitorscenter.blogspot.com
Built on a small plot of only 144 square-meters, the Jacobs House, like many other Usonians, has its back to the street, giving residents privacy. The walls on the side of the house facing the street are composed almost entirely of horizontal ponderosa pine planks; whereas the walls facing the private garden are mostly glazed glass, entreating the eye to look outward and for residents to spend more time outside (“Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright”).

Not only was the family connected to nature, but they were connected to each other. Like Wright’s other homes, the Jacobs house was constructed on an open floor plan which connected kitchen to dining room to living room, allowing the mother to watch her children or entertain conversation with guests as she prepared meals (“Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright”).

Of course, Wright did not neglect the beauty of the design. Usonian houses boasted their own geometric grill patterns covering windows to inexpensively reproduce the effects of his leaded-glass windows. The dining alcove was lit by a “light bridge” made of pine encasing incandescent recessed lighting. Ceilings were wooden battens composing long geometric patterns (“Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright”).

The Pope-Leighey House; Source: apartmenttherapy.com


In addition to a planning grid which sped up the building process, the Jacobs House marks the first time that Wright utilized “sandwich-wall” construction of walls, adding a minimalistic design pattern to the walls, negating the need for expensive wall décor. Wright’s sandwich walls have three layers: “two pine boards with a plywood core sandwiched between them.” Form meets function: redwood battens screw-fashion the surface pine boards on either side of the insulation-containing plywood core, creating a fireproof and attractive horizontal pattern (“Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright”).

Source: Mherpy.blogspot.com

Jacobs House Interior; Source: Pinterest
Interestingly, Wright later designed a second Usonian house for the Jacobs in 1948 based on a solar hemicycle, aligning the sun’s rays to warm the interior, continuing Wright’s obsession with natural light. 

Jacobs House II embedded in an embankment on one side; Source: Ohio.com

Jacobs House II floor plan; Source: Pinterest
Jacobs House II Interior; Source: Pinterest
Other Usonian houses expanded upon the Jacobs House grid system. The most famous of these is the Hanna House in Palo Alto, based on the design of a hexagon and the 120-degree angle, instead of the traditional 90-degree angle, to further deconstruct boxlike rooms (Lind, The Wright Style).

Hanna House; Source: scottlarsen.com

Hanna House Honeycomb Floor Plan; Source: Pinterest

Hanna House; Source: Pinterest

My lesson plan for the Jacobs House module focuses on creating floor plans for the new shift of American life in the Information Age—evoking sustainable materials, green building, and streamlining technology. 

Friday, March 11, 2016

Week 5

This week, my study of Frank Lloyd Wright’s arguably most famous and beloved building—Fallingwater—reinforced the risk involved in being a visionary—literally and figuratively going out on a limb. Wright’s innovative design and structural engineering of Fallingwater proved to be ahead of his time; fortunately, engineering advanced enough by 1995 to save the structure from collapsing under the weight of its own innovations. As critic Paul Goldberger noted, Fallingwater “summed up the 20th century and then thrust it forward still further,” and engineering fortunately caught up (Maddex, 50 Favorite Rooms by Frank Lloyd Wright).
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FALLINGWATER

Source: Fallingwater.org
Edgar and Liliane Kaufmann, the parents of one of Wright’s Taliesin students, hired Wright to build a weekend retreat for his family in Mill Run, Pennsylvania, in a remote wooded area outside of Pittsburgh. From the first time that he saw the Kaufmann’s favorite spot to picnic at the foot of a cascading waterfall in December 1934, Wright was enamored with the site. Despite being mesmerized by the musical grace of the waterfall spilling over the rocky ledges, Wright did not draft any plans until one summer morning in 1935 when Mr. Kaufmann called to say that he would be stopping by Wright’s studio in Taliesin to see the sketches. Incredibly, Wright quickly dashed off the design of what would become America’s most iconic home that morning. Apprentices polished the plans while Wright busied Mr. Kaufmann with a tour of Taliesin and leisurely meals (Thorne-Thomsen, Frank Lloyd Wright for Kids).   

Constructed from 1936 to 1939, Fallingwater sits precariously perched above the upper waterfalls of Bear Run stream, instead of predictably positioned at its base. In this way, the house would appear like a treehouse rooted in the rocky ledges of the waterfall, one with the land. Fallingwater is located far from civilization, nestled in a secluded valley in southwestern Pennsylvania. The surrounding mesophytic forest teeming with biological diversity provided a treasure trove of natural inspiration and materials for Wright to forage for inspiration. Wright did just that, quarrying stone from only 152 meters away and featuring native sandstone (“Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright”).

Source: Architectural Digest
Fallingwater is a series of contrasts: vertical and horizontal, rough and smooth, gray and cream. Using stone exclusively for the house’s vertical piers and walls creates the sensation that the house is an extension of the waterfall. The cream-colored reinforced concrete cantilevers, however, float over the falls like foam, juxtaposing a manmade waterfall with its natural counterpart. The floors rise and recede as gracefully as the graduated levels of the waterfall (“Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright”).

The piece de resistance of the house is its projection above the waterfalls by virtue of Wright’s incorporation of cantilevers. A popular element of Wright’s repertoire, a cantilever is a load-bearing horizontal beam that projects outward but is supported on only one end (“Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright”).

Source: futurenostalgia.org
While the cantilevers almost seem to defy gravity, the entire house is grounded—literally and figuratively—by the towering sandstone chimney. The home is like a tree emerging from the rocks; its chimney functions as the trunk of the tree of the building; cantilevered terraces mimic branches. The first-floor cantilevered terrace spans a remarkable 18 feet over the waterfall (Lind, The Wright Style).

Source: Home-designing.com
Wright’s quest to bring the outside inside informs the construction of cantilevers. Terraces continue from the outside inside the house, only divided by plate glass windows and doors. Likewise, the same materials used on the outside of the building line the interior floor and walls, creating a unity of design. Moss grows up the walls, the cantilevers yield to the trees—marrying land and building (“Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright”).

Source: Huffington Post
The synergy is sublime: rough flagstone paves the interior floors, waxed to create a shine reminiscent of the wet boulders in the river below. The most poignant example of Fallingwater’s connection to the environment, however, is the singular non-waxed boulder projecting into the house. Thus, the site’s most pronounced boulder anchors the home’s foundation. It was also the very boulder that Wright’s clients—Edgar and Liliane Kaufmann—had enjoyed as a frequent picnic spot, increasing its significance. Once again, Wright incorporated the four elements into the hearth (“Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright”).
Source: StudyBlue.com
 Fallingwater, like most of Wright’s works, has an open floor plan. In fact, the ground floor is almost entirely a multipurpose family room, measuring 15 meters by 11 meters (“Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright”). This room radiates under the golden light supplied by the large light screen in the ceiling; furniture hugs the room’s edges; cantilevering couches and tables continue the exterior theme (Maddex, 50 Favorite Rooms by Frank Lloyd Wright).

Source: Huffington Post
Moreover, the building itself spirals out like a pinwheel, with the conversation areas, a study-library space, and dining area jutting out or overlapping the open center, creating movement that echoes the flowing stream below (“Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright”).

Fallingwater is not only a visual experience; it manipulates auditory and tactile senses to create a fuller connection between the landscape and the building. The sound of water reverberates throughout the site, gradually amplifying as one travels down the hillside and culminating at the building. Likewise, Fallingwater invites tactile sensation through its stairs just above the water, allowing mist to spray on visitors as they walk inside (Moore, Water and Architecture).

Source: Huffington Post
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While Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater may be a masterpiece of design, its engineering proved problematic. The massive cantilevers jutting over the water were too long to stay straight under the pressure of gravity and their own weights. Fearful that Fallingwater would fall down, the Kaufmanns hired an engineer to evaluate the structure in 1937. The engineer discovered that the structure indeed would eventually collapse, suggesting that props be placed below the cantilever on the first floor to provide support (Moore, Water and Architecture).

But Wright refused to change his plans (Moore, Water and Architecture). However, a contractor hired by Mr. Kaufmann cited that the main problem with the building was the limited number of reinforcing bars in the concrete. In fact, immediately after construction, upon removing the formwork, the cantilevers instantly deflected 1.75”—much greater than the normal expected deflection. Alas, the engineer who designed the girder—much to his embarrassment—realized that he forgot to put in the negative reinforcing, causing the steel to elongate and exceed its yield limit (Meek, “Fallingwater: Restoration and Structural Reinforcement”). A surveyor continued to monitor the deflections regularly.

Thus, by 1994, the four fifteen-foot-long concrete beams supporting the living room and other cantilevered terraces buckled under the weight of the house, deflecting four to seven inches out of their original positions. This pronounced deflection cracked the beams and stretched the steel bars in the reinforced concrete (The Architecture Handbook). Even worse, the sinking of the beams was accelerating because the second floor cantilever transferred its load to the first floor—something which Frank Lloyd Wright did not anticipate (Meek, “Fallingwater: Restoration and Structural Reinforcement”). For a while, it looked as though Fallingwater was doomed to collapse into the stream (The Architecture Handbook).

Source: misfitsarchitecture.com
Modern engineering, however, has supplied a remedy to steady Fallingwater while keeping it aesthetically intact. Computer modeling provided a non-invasive way to find the cause of the deflection and suggest a remedy. In 1995, the structural engineering company Robert Silman Associates decided to use a technique called post-tensioning, a process which secures a steel cable to both ends of a section of concrete before pulling taut the cable. In turn, the cable will compress the reinforced concrete so that it cannot bend (The Architecture Handbook).
Source: Wikispaces.com
After creating a temporary steel bracing in the stream to hold up the beams, construction workers pulled all 600 of the waxed flagstone tiles on the floor of the living room to expose the grid of concrete beams and joints underneath (The Architecture Handbook).

In the end, the cantilevers were not able to be raised back to their original position because it would have cracked the already firmly-set structure. Even so, the mere ¾ inch it did manage to rise was enough to save Fallingwater from falling into the water (The Architecture Handbook).

In retrospect, the flaws of Fallingwater enhance rather than detract from its appeal. Like the Liberty Bell or the Leaning Tower of Pisa, its problems only add another layer of patina, polishing the iconic image of Fallingwater. Wright’s thinking proved, once again, to be ahead of his time.
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Consequently, Wright’s innovation—cantilevers projecting out of rocks over water—spurred ensuing engineering innovations—post-tensioning repair. Seizing upon Fallingwater as an example of how integral engineering is to architecture, I decided to devise lesson plans to teach students the elementary principles of physics in architecture. 


My sketch of Fallingwater
Students from K-4 can gain familiarity with the structural elements of architecture by finding example photos from the internet or their town of the following: column, beam, cantilever, truss, arch, vault, and dome. The more unusual, the better.

Students from 5-8 can expand upon this knowledge and also consider the advantages and disadvantages of the five construction materials—wood, stone, brick, steel, reinforced concrete—and select the type of material most conducive for an array of structures—skyscraper, beach house, snowy mountain retreat, desert abode, etc.

For high-school students, my lesson plan will examine the basics of the physics behind cantilevers. As Fallingwater’s almost fatal fate reinforces, structural design depends on sound physics. To begin, I will introduce students to reinforced concrete—an inexpensive and flexible material used extensively by Frank Lloyd Wright—as a real-world application of the physics of architecture.

Normal concrete is strong under compressive forces, rendering it suitable for constructing vertical, load-bearing pillars. Concrete, however, is extremely weak under tension forces. Thus, it is a poor material for building horizontal beams or cantilevers, which experience both tension and compression forces (revisionworld.com).

Therefore, Frank Lloyd Wright could not use simple concrete in his construction of Fallingwater’s cantilevers. He had to turn to reinforced concrete.

Source: delanceyplace.com
By casting concrete around steel bars, the reinforced concrete can withstand tensile forces because tension is released as the concrete dries, shrinking the steel and compressing the concrete (revisionworld.com).

Wright constructed his gravity-defying cantilevers from reinforced concrete. A cantilever is “a beam that projects out and is supported only at one end,” according to The Architecture Handbook. Like all levers, such as a seesaw, the cantilever has a fulcrum (the point where the beam is supported), however, it is at the end of the lever instead of the middle (The Architecture Handbook).


Since cantilevers are only supported at one end, when a load is placed on top, the cantilever bends downwards slightly. This bending is called deflection.

To see this for yourself, stretch out your arm horizontally in front of you. This acts as a makeshift cantilever. Holding something heavy causes your arm to bend downward.

One of the problems with Fallingwater’s cantilevers is their length. Because the length of the cantilever varies inversely with its strength, the longer the cantilever is, the less it can hold, and thus the more it deflects.

Cantilevers have both tension and compression forces acting on them. Tension forces stretch the cantilever, while compression forces shorten it. The top of the cantilever experiences tension forces; the bottom of the cantilever experiences compression forces (The Architecture Handbook).

The load is supported by tension forces. The bending of the cantilever redistributes the force of the load up through compression. It then travels down the wall to the foundation of the building (ESF Academics).


If the beam bends too much under the weight of the load, you have to redistribute the load by attaching a cable from the end of the cantilever to the wall to move tension upwards. However, if the wall is not strong enough, then the compression will force the beam into the wall, damaging it (ESF Academics).

Hopefully, the lesson will impress upon students that architects are problem-solvers; their only limit is their imagination—and gravity!

Friday, March 4, 2016

Week 4

HOLLYHOCK HOUSE

This week, I learned how Wright “went Hollywood.” Actually, the idiom is not totally accurate: not only was Hollyhock House Wright’s first commission in California, its groundbreaking design launched the California modernist era and ended his Prairie style period. Therefore, Wright arguably not only "went Hollywood" but helped create the Hollywood look. 
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Source: Eric Brightwell
True to his philosophy of organic architecture, Wright did not truly abandon his earlier design principles but just adapted them to the warm, sunny climate and rolling landscape of Southern California—a far cry from the flat plains of the Midwestern prairie. His Midwestern accent acquired a California lilt, yet his message remained the same.

High atop Olive Hill in Hollywood, Wright imbued Hollyhock House with a sense of theater and drama appropriate to the glamour of the locale. Arts patron, Bohemian spirit, and oil heiress, Aline Barnsdall hired Wright in 1917 to sculpt a home on the thirty-six acre site peppered with olive trees and overlooking expansive vistas of both the Pacific Ocean and the Hollywood Hills. By 1921, Wright had completed this architectural treasure—still revered in 2015 by thousands of fans celebrating its reopening after a five-year, $4.4 million restoration (L.A. Times).  

Situated on the top of Olive Hill, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Hollyhock House overlooks both the Pacific Ocean and the Hollywood Hills. The epitome of the California concrete style, Hollyhock House’s massive, monolithic frame evokes the grandeur of a Mayan temple, the romance of a Spanish courtyard, and the cool elegance of a Japanese shrine. It is a theatrical expression of California’s multicultural vibrancy.


My sketch of Hollyhock House's amphitheater-like reflecting pool
The larger landscape of Los Angeles informs the design of the building site. Four wings composed of cubic and rectilinear shapes ensconce semi-circular pools. The house fully unites exterior and interior by adjoining each room to the outdoors through terraces. In fact, Hollyhock House boasts one of the earliest uses of roof terraces in modern architecture, theatrically linked by bridges and exterior stairs ("Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright"). 

Like Wright’s other houses, Hollyhock House still preserves a sense of privacy with its pergola-enhanced entry and concealed central courtyard. Hollyhock House symbolizes a microcosm of Los Angeles itself. Towering mountains protectively surround the city from the surrounding desert and the Pacific Ocean just as the high walls of Hollyhock House shelter the central garden courtyard, all the while preserving views of the ocean (“Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright”).


Source: "Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright"
To further align the house not only with the surrounding landscape but the surrounding culture, Wright sought to fulfill his patron’s request to mold Hollyhock House into a buzzing art and cultural center, replete with a cinema, theater, studios, and residences for actors as well as the patron ("Key Works of Modern Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright").


Source: marshabray.com
Hollyhock House’s design changed drastically from the original plan, revealing Wright’s evolution as an architect from the horizontal lines and low roofs of his Prairie style to the monument-like pillars and ornamental blocks of his later Californian work. Hollyhock House’s stylized geometrics and stucco walls captured the southern Californian zeitgeist (Hess, “Frank Lloyd Wright: The Houses”).

The highlight of the home’s interior is the hearth. In the living room, a bas-relief of geometric forms adorns a concrete fireplace, nestled below a latticed skylight and above a gold-tiled reflecting pool. Here Wright best expressed the Japanese idea of the unity of the four elements—the hearth representing earth; the pool, water; the fireplace and torchiere lamps, fire; and skylight, air. A moat originally encircled the home, symbolizing water (Tristan Bravinder, The Getty Iris).


Source: LA Curbed
The infusion of Japanese mythology is not surprising. While he was designing Hollyhock House, Wright simultaneously was building the Imperial Hotel in Japan. Further, Japanese influences can be found in the screen paintings lining the living room walls, the gold metallic paint on the walls, and the open floor plan with minimal walls (Lind, “The Wright Style”).

Even more metaphorically, Wright embedded the Japanese-influenced theme of “compression and release” in Hollyhock House. Low ceilings dominate most rooms, narrowly leading to the grand release into the soaring ceilings and lowered floor of the awe-inspiring living room (The Getty Iris). In the same way, the compressed wings of the house open up into the release of the courtyard.

Despite this new California vernacular, Wright still maintained vestiges of his Prairie style: stained glass on the second story. However, these glass corners featured the purples and greens of sunny California, rather than the autumnal hues of the Midwest (Maddex, “50 Favorite Rooms by Frank Lloyd Wright”).


Source: Architectural Digest

Source: Architectural Digest
Wright sought to involve his patrons in the buildings that they commissioned as part of his philosophy of the democracy of architecture. Bringing architecture to people, Wright encouraged homeowners to explain to him exactly how they hope the house to look. This philosophy, however, caused the construction of Hollyhock House to be plagued by setbacks on account of multiple sudden design changes, Wright’s lengthy trips to Japan, and heated conflict between Wright and Barnsdall (Penny Fowler, “Frank Lloyd Wright: Graphic Artist”).

However, Aline Barnsdall’s design request did inspire Hollyhock House’s crowning glory: its ornamental pillars in the shape of stylized hollyhock flowers—the favorite flower of Barnsdall. Recalling both the cubist art of Europe and the simplified shapes of Japanese woodblock prints, Wright’s geometric hollyhock pillars translated two-dimensional art into a three-dimensional format (Fowler, “Frank Lloyd Wright: Graphic Artist”).


Source: Architectural Digest
Indeed, Wright claimed: “Geometry is at the center of every Nature-form we see—not to be simply “looking-at” nature, but looking into nature, grasping the principles at work, and then building forms that are not imitative but creative” (Fowler, “Frank Lloyd Wright: Graphic Artist”).


Source: Lily Spitz
In fact, the Hollyhock abstractions not only grace the exterior friezes but trellis down the backs of dining room chairs, bud as planters in the gardens, and climb up columns in the courtyard (Maddex, “50 Favorite Rooms by Frank Lloyd Wright”).  


Hollyhock House furniture. Source: Architectural Digest
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Capitalizing upon Wright’s stylized nature forms, I designed a lesson plan for students ages K-12 that invites students to explore the process of abstraction through the hollyhock motif prevalent at Frank Lloyd Wright’s Hollyhock House. The lesson will give students a greater appreciation for Wright’s organic architecture by uniting nature and building.


The following is a summary of the lesson plan for creating a flora-based, abstract-designed mold. Students will explore their surrounding landscape and collect a leaf or flower as a basis for their stylization. Alternatively, students can choose a photograph of a plant or flower. After closely inspecting their specimen to determine the dominant shapes that form the plant, students will draw an abstracted version using geometric shapes. Next, students will glue pre-cut wooden circles, squares, diamonds, and triangles onto the inside bottom of a shoe box, layering shapes one on top of another for varying degrees of increased depth, if desired. After filling the shoe box halfway with plaster of Paris, students will turn over and release their mold when dry. 



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Looking back on my Hollyhock House research this week, the hollyhock motif and verdant courtyards seem to have offered Wright a respite from the tragic fire and deaths at Taliesin in 1914. Perhaps Wright needed to reinvent himself because that chapter of his life--the Prairie style--had closed and he needed to move forward.