Franklin Lloyd Wright - Assignment Example

Henry D. Fernandez MinSook Lee History of Interior Architecture, 1850-Present May 27, 2006 Fallingwater: Franklin Lloyd Wright Fallingwater is a house designed and constructed by Frank Lloyd Wright (1867-1959) in 1935 and is considered perhaps the prime example of Wright’s architectural influence within America, as well as having paved the way for international modernism. The house was commissioned by Edgar and Lillian Kaufmann as a vacation home on some of their favorite property in Bear Run, Pennsylvania, along their favorite stream. Although they anticipated receiving a home that afforded a wonderful view of a vigorous waterfall at one of their favorite picnic spots, Wright had other ideas in mind. Rather than constructing the traditional four-square home that observes nature from without, Wright created a structure that would provide shelter and comfort to the family, but that interacted with nature on a fundamental level. The residence is not so much a house as it is a man-made outgrowth of nature, perfectly in tune with its surroundings, able to take part in the daily occurrences of the river and thoughtful of its natural neighbors. To understand how Fallingwater connects and harmonizes with its natural surroundings, it is important to understand its general characteristics, Wright’s approach to architecture, how the exterior works to blend with the surroundings, how the interior works to extend or replicate nature indoors and how these work together to create a movement and flow to the overall home that provides that same sense of healing nature that could be found prior to the house’s construction. One of the founding principles in Wright’s philosophy was a deep-seated belief in the idea of nature as sacrosanct. “Nature is not only the will of God, it’s also the only part of God we’re ever going to see,” he said during a video recording documenting his accomplishments (Iverson, 1988). According to Wright, who grew up studying the natural forms and positions of his Wisconsin valley, everything in nature took on a form of architecture he wanted to design. “What is architecture? Architecture is the frame of life. It is the nature and substance of whatever is. The universe has a plan. Everything has its plan” (Wright cited in Iverson, 1988). To Wright, the important aspect of architecture was in providing a sense of shelter, which was a feeling as much as a form, leading to his development of the open-style prairie houses with the emphasis on the horizontal. This was part of the teachings he had learned from his mentor, Louis Sullivan. In his work, Wright took Sullivan’s idea of ‘form follows function’ to another level, asserting that ‘form and function are one’ (Curtis, 1996, p. 114). The horizontal, according to Wright, was the angle of domesticity and so provided a sense of stability despite the loss of the box-like rooms that had been prevalent in the Victorian era. Through these designs, Wright tried to demonstrate that the reality of the building was no longer limited to just the floors, the walls and the roof. Instead, it was important to allow the outside to come in. “The space designed to be lived in is the reality of the building” (Wright cited in Iverson, 1988). This space had to start with consideration of the ground upon which it was to be built. “We start with the ground. In any and every case the character of the site is the beginning of the building that aspires to architecture. All must begin there where they stand … In the stone bonework of the earth, the principles that shaped stone as it lies, or as it rises and remains to be sculpted by winds and tide – there sleep forms enough for all the ages, for all of man” (Wright cited in McCarter, 1997). It was this basic belief in the importance of nature to the final design that lay at the core of many of his designs, especially Fallingwater. “[Wright] saw human life as one of the processes of nature, not as some exceptional form of creation. Within nature people are active adopting nature to suit their wants; they contribute feedback within the natural system. Similarly, he saw architecture as a natural process of human life, in turn nourishing its parent system. Thus, to Wright, architecture, humankind, and nature were joined in a grand dynamic continuity, and continuity within architecture indicated that people were aligning themselves – as he believed they should – with the natural forces of life” (Edgar Kaufmann Jr. cited in DeLong, 1996, p. 118). The house itself is built upon the extreme edge of the streambank at Bear Run in Pennsylvania, with a good portion of the house cantilevered over the waterfall to seemingly float in space. Wright himself described the house as “an extension of the cliff” (Weston, 2004, p. 78). The house is a natural outgrowth of the Prairie Houses Wright had developed in the very early years of the 1900s in that its basic organization was that of a cruciform interpenetrating a square, however, he deviated from the symmetrical aspect of the Prairie House to provide asymmetrical, spiraling perimeter movement and hidden entrances (McCarter, 1997, p. 207). The house is so fully integrated into its natural surroundings that it is almost indistinguishable from them as one drives up its lonely driveway. “As we are introduced to the character and natural features of the landscape during our winding approach, we are not aware of the house ahead … When the house first comes into view, we are somewhat surprised to see across the stream from us a series of horizontal terraces that float without visible means of support.” (McCarter, 1997, p. 210). Although these terraces are definitely not of natural construction, they nevertheless serve to mimic the natural surroundings, becoming both part of and separate from God’s natural setting. Fallingwater’s “fame as a masterpiece of architectural design seems strangely at odds with the feature for which it is famous, namely its discretion … the fact that the house not only comes to rest in its environment but also embodies an extension of the foundation upon which it rests” (Harrison, 1992). This is a universally held view of the home, as it is also mentioned by DeLong: “At Fallingwater, he demonstrated how building, roadway, earth and water could be shaped as one integrated landscape that enhanced underlying qualities of place (1996, p. 117). The exterior of the building is such that it tends to melt into its surroundings while also managing to remain separate from them. “As we move around the house, our vantage point changes dramatically in height, from above the house, to even with it, to below it; the horizontal concrete planes and vertical rock walls constantly change position relative to one another, not allowing us to establish any static image of its exterior form (McCarter, 1997, p. 212). This shifting nature of the totality of the exterior is in concert with the constantly shifting waters and patterns of the stream and waterfall as well as with the shifting, changing seasons in the Pennsylvania woods even as it stands firm and rooted in place like the trees growing up all around it. Neil Levine, in his work, questions the true nature of this site in relation to the final construction: “In reference to the most salient feature of the site, and the one for which the house is named, we ask if it is really ‘falling water,’ as certain impressions would support. Or is it ‘water in suspension,’ like the dew on leaves? Or is it perhaps even ‘rising water,’ like mist in the air? The actual experience of Fallingwater supports all theses readings. . . (Levine, 1996, p.250). The reason all of these interpretations have equal weight is because of the way in which Wright created this building, constantly allowing tension between all of these motions – down, up and static. Wright was very conscious of the natural surrounding and worked wherever he could to encourage the idea that this is a natural outgrowth of the forest, perfectly suited to the living needs of another of nature’s creations – humans. An example of this is in the concrete trellis that stretches over the driveway to the house. There are two places in which it curves dramatically out of sequence in order to allow trees that were growing close to the walls of the house to continue to grow. “In this house, Wright has created a powerful dichotomy: the natural rock layers are repeated almost exactly, in thickness and random pattern of setting, in the vertical walls that emerge from the boulders above the waterfall, while the lighter colored horizontal reinforced-concrete terraces and roof planes exfoliate from this rock wall core, cantilevering both along and across the stream” (McCarter, 1997, p. 210). While the rocks are allowed to look as though they are simply natural conformations of the surrounding stream bank, built perhaps a little higher than the rest but otherwise no different from the natural setting that was already there, the concrete horizontals provide the sense of permanence and stability these fractured rocks might not otherwise suggest. The whole, rocks and concrete horizontals, is repetitive of the surrounding trees, with their trunks and roots (or rocks seemingly rising from the core of the earth) firmly grounded and their branches and leaves (or concrete horizontals) delicately balanced over the ground or stream below. The way in which the horizontals are allowed to overlap and layer one over the other is also reminiscent of the way in which trees grow, naturally allowing one branch to overlap another in an effort to catch the greatest degree of sunlight. “The stability of the house, its rooted condition, is unexpectedly emphasized and reinforced by the flow of water under it” (McCarter, 1997, p. 210). Through the horizontals, “Wright reminds us that the earth tends to fold into itself, or to withdraw into its own closure, and that the earth cannot become a shelter unless it is unfolded, or disclosed, by human appropriation” (Harrison, 1992). As its name implies, the true spirit of the house is inherently linked with the waterfall that flows under it. “Drawn towards the sound of the waterfall, we walk across the living room and open the glass doors, moving out on to the terrace cantilevered out over the waterfall. Looking out into the trees, the sound of the waterfall now surrounds us and we seem to be a part of it, having been projected out into space directly above it. At this moment we recognize Wright’s intention in placing the house where he did: rather than present the waterfall as an object to be looked at, he allows us to feel as if we are part of it, hearing it and sensing it, but rarely seeing it from within the house” (McCarter, 1997, p. 213). It is the essential aspect of hearing the waterfall that makes it such an integral part of the house. According to American philosopher John Dewey, sound is near, intimate, in our minds, providing us with the sense of daily life while vision is merely observational, distant and formal. In explaining why he wanted to build the house over the waterfall itself, Wright told Kaufmann “I want you to live with the waterfall, not just to look at it, but for it to become an integral part of your lives” (McCarter, 1997, p. 214), immediately recognizing the truth in Dewey’s thought. Because of our human tendency to spatially place ourselves within context, at all times while visiting Fallingwater, the waterfall remains a conscious part of the experience, never allowing us to forget the running water passing by under the feet or the sense of the massive force it can present. The interior of the home equally reflects this symbiosis with nature with the purposeful use of gray flagstones to pave the main living area floors and other material usages that serve to mimic or suggest natural forms. The flagstones are polished and waxed to give them a lustrous sheen that closely parallels the reflecting, shimmering, uneven surface of the water below and the dark gray bedrock of the streambed that can be seen through the shallow water. This smooth floor surface is only broken occasionally, once for the hatch to descend to the actual water below and again to make way for the huge boulder anchored in the stream itself, predating the house and now serving as a hearth for the large fireplace. “Wright had apparently intended to cut the boulder off flat, even with the slate floor, but – much to Wright’s delight – Kaufmann suggested it remain as it was when his family used to picnic upon it before the house was built” (McCarter, 1997, p. 214). The boulder remains as natural as it was found, rising out of the polished flagstones “like the dry top of a boulder peering above the stream waters” (Harrison, 1992). The fireplace itself is not so much a cut from the wall as it is the wall of the house, naturally formed by the same rock that forms the vertical spine of the house and providing a central gathering place for the family and serving as a closing contrast to the openness of the terraces and windows. The room itself is designed to provide the essential elements of a weekend home. The south end is designed for easy conversation and affords spectacular views of the surrounding forest while the northwest corner is given over to the enjoyment of food, complete with a built-in table designed by Wright to work with the structure of the house in much the same way as the house was designed to work with nature. Intimate conversations could be held in a small area just opposite the hearth while the southeast corner housed the library and the hatch steps going down to the stream. Although the impression is that of a square or rectangle, “depending on how you count, it has about a dozen major corners and another dozen minor ones” (Toker, 2003, p. 234). The perception of the square is carried out through the careful treatment of the ceiling combined with the visual effects of the stone support beams. Most of the underlying piers and walls used for cantilevering support are repeated in the floors above to provide a sense of stability and security, much like the trunks of the surrounding trees. These piers, as they traverse through the living room in the form of stone columns, are part of what provide the visitor with the sense that they are standing in a rectangular room despite the many angles and turns that are actually present. Although most of the house opens out to the terraces, both Kaufmann and his son’s private rooms, as well as the kitchen, share part of the stonework frame of the fireplace and provide an almost cavelike quality that seems comforting and close – a natural refuge when storms break over the forest. “In both of these small bedrooms and in the kitchen, the stonework of the fireplace wall seems to pass right through the glass from inside to outside, due to Wright’s careful provision of a vertical slot between the stones that allows the glass to be set directly into the stone, without any kind of frame. This detail allows inside and outside to merge in a way very similar to the flagstones which are set in the floor so that the joints seem to continue beneath the glass doors out onto the terraces” (McCarter, 1997, p. 219). This design feature points out Wright’s intention to bring the outdoors in and to allow the indoors to go out as there seems to be no change in the stone wall as it makes its transition between interior wall and exterior just as there seems to be no transitions in the flagstones in making the same journey. “In these rooms he also achieves the perfect open corner, for the corner is made by two small casement windows which, when opened, cause the corner to disappear altogether. (McCarter, 1997, p. 220), thus accomplishing another one of Wright’s foundational principles, the removal of the box from his designs. Throughout the house, inside and out, Wright employs the use of tension to bring balance and comfort. “The house is held together by the diagonal tensions between intimate internal places, so that the outer edges are free to respond to the natural site, as when the rear wall of the house steps along the drive in response to the natural rock wall of the hill behind” (McCarter, 1997, p. 207). The stairs floating down to the stream provide a sense of lightness that is strangely contrasted against the downward-flowing direction of the water in the stream. This movement is brought into balance with the heavier stone fireplace that sits on a direct diagonal from the stair entrance. Like the opposing directions of elements (water) and materials (light, stone stairs) present in the stairway, the fireplace demonstrates its own elemental/material opposition with the tendency to link the heavy stone with the foundational rocks of the world and its eternally upward-drafting fire. The horizontal terrace that extends over the waterfall, oriented parallel to the stream, and affording widespread spectacular views of the surrounding area contrasts sharply with the perpendicular and closed-in horizontal space of the entrance foyer. Thus the visitor is pulled in all directions at once and becomes easily oriented to a comfortable, energized middle ground. Thus, it is not only through his extensive use of natural local material to construct the exterior environment of the Kaufmann house, it is through a complex web of design concerns meshed with human comfort concerns and artistic concerns that Fallingwater emerges as an extension of nature carefully customized for its human creature rather than the modern work of art, with the cold connotations that term has come to imply, that it is. “Fallingwater appears to us to have grown out of the ground and into the light, making present the latent power of the boulder on which it sits above the waterfall – the same boulder which emerges from the rippling ‘water’ of the flagstone living-room floor to provide a place of stability in front of the fireplace” (McCarter, 1997, p. 220). Through its use of local natural material and purposeful mimicking of elements, such as the gray flagstones, Wright provides an abstract impression of the natural beauty of the site while maintaining a necessary stability and sense of permanence. This permanence is offset by the careful balancing act of the entire structure, not only over the stream, but also as each level is carefully balanced and juxtaposed over the other. With its floating steps descending to the water and its large fire reaching into the heavens from the comforting level of the bedrock, the house seems to sit solidly in a balanced center of being. With the solid, shadowy walls of its cavelike interior it is able to provide a deep sense of comfort and refuge even while its large windows and sweeping vistas provide a necessary sense of reaching out and openness. Through it all, the power and sound of the stream at its base continuously reminds one of the elements of motion and continuity, representing and refuting the concept of time and leaving instead the ephemeral sense of the nature of Nature herself. Works Cited Curtis, William J. R.. Modern Architecture Since 1900. London: Phaidon Press, 1996. DeLong, David G. (Ed.). Frank Lloyd Wright: Designs for an American Landscape 1922-1932. Montreal: Harry N. Abrams, 1996. Harrison, Robert P. “Fallingwater.” Forests: The Shadow of Civilization. Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1992. Levine, Neil. The Architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996. McCarter, Robert. Frank Lloyd Wright. New York: Phaidon Press, 1997. Toker, Franklin. Fallingwater Rising. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2003. Weston, Richard. Key Buildings of the 20th Century. New York: 2004. Read More