Today's library haul got me really excited. I picked up Lisa Skolnik's Retro Modern out of the architecture and design section, and it pulled together so much for me. There wasn't a huge amount of text, just an introduction, a page or two of text per chapter, and the rest photos and captions illustrating the style in actual houses and other buildings. And I read the entire thing, and got so excited I read a good bit out loud to Jonathan (who was peacefully reading Chuck Swindoll and really mostly back in ancient Persia).
First: I had never realized how much of modernist style I had unconsciously inherited. Big airy windows, an emphasis on back patios, built-in shelves and other furniture, rooms that flow into one another, and front doors that open straight onto the main living area of the house -- classic modernism. I hadn't realized that the basic ranch-styles and split-levels came out of that tradition; I grew up in and around them, and I guess I thought they just naturally occurred? Like mushrooms?
Second: I am reminded of several more aspects of modernism which I've always disliked. Now I'm thinking of bare blocky shapes, sterile walls, odd (but theoretically "functional") architectural excrescences, cantilevering and hovering elements, a dislike of right angles in furniture (Eames chairs, anyone?), and the general impracticality and child-unfriendliness of it all. For instance. There was one hearth out in the middle of the room where the widest part, a layer of bricks, was about six inches up off the floor. It was very nice looking, but carefully arranged so that any adult walking through would bark their shins on it and any child would trip and crack their head on a corner. Yikes.
Also, in order to really be in keeping with the aesthetic, you can't have any junk in your house. Or dirt. Everything is clean and on display. You may have shelves, but the only visible things allowed are Art, such as bio-morphic glass vases or African masks. Mundane things like books and toothbrushes have to be hidden behind fiberglass shelf doors, except for one book on your coffee table. Obviously this would not work for my house.
Third: I found it fascinating how the rise of modernist design flowed out of broader history. The 20th-century opened with a few movements, such as the Arts & Crafts, rebelling against fancy Victorian furnishing. In Germany this took the "Werkbund" style, which emphasized good workmanship and machine-production. That's exactly what they were doing in other ways, like making "the finest artillery in Europe" (to quote Jonathan).
During the late twenties and thirties, the modern aesthetic slowed down due to Nazi preferences (Europe) and production and sales issues (the Great Depression in America). Some major designers fled the war to the US. But, after World War II, there were all these artists raring to go and factories ready to make non-military things and new little ex-soldiers' families getting new little houses and furniture - and whoosh! A style took off.* And now, seventy years later, it's so normal we barely notice it.
Fourth: It's telling that the new houses were oriented around the backyard to have a better view of nature. No more big front porches for chatting with the neighbors, no more parlor windows facing the street, but uncurtained floor-to-ceiling windows facing your own secluded garden. These were built in dramatic natural areas and in cookie-cutter subdivisions, but they were not, for the most part, built on busy town streets so you could walk to the store. Hello, New Urbanism.
Styles change. It's what they do. A lot of the modernist aesthetic is very practical in some ways. It's great for public areas like park visitors' centers and libraries. I think the Los Alamos library is a very cool modernist building - big, airy, light, relatively easy to clean, nifty nested windows to photograph people through, nice balconies to drop things off of.** It's even pretty in its way. But it's not... everything. It's not good for the in-between living. You go for the day.
I think Jonathan and I, if we get a chance to design a house, will value other things. For us, functional means "good for raising kids in" and "hospitable" and, oh, I don't know. Enough storage. Pretty. Respecting boundaries. Curtains on the windows, so we can close them at night and open them in the morning. Not enamored entirely with the last seventy years, and able to tolerate things that are fabulous just for the sake of it, like a Sculpey dragon in red and gold named Aethelthryth***, to reflect the crazy creativity of the God who came up with the common platypus. I mean really, what kind of God makes platypuses? And what does that say about human house design?
Modernism is more pervasive than I'd realized -- which is fine, but also why it's good to keep up with Epbot. Also, if anyone knows of a good design blog inspired by Art Deco, I'd definitely be interested.
*Obviously, it's more complicated than this. But what a fun overview.
**No, I don't recommend this. What were you thinking? ;-)
***Amelia R. sculpted her for our wedding, along with a marzipan dragon. We have awesome friends.
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4 comments:
So. We talked a lot about architecture during my second semester at St. Andrews. We were most focused on church architecture, but of course had to talk about the underlying theory of every style as well.
If you're interested in knowing more about modern architecture, you might want to look for Le Corbusier's Toward a New Architecture, which we read sections of. Le Corbusier was something of the high priest of modernist architecture, and although I hate his architecture, it's quite enlightening to see what he was trying to do.
What you say about unconsciously inheriting modernist style seems to draw a lot from the Frank Lloyd Wright variant which basically took over significant sections of the West and Midwest--he developed ranch-style houses, open plans, etc. He tends toward the organic look--houses conforming to the land and so forth, which I like in many cases. In Europe, Gaudi did some similar work. The only modernist church design that I love is his Sagrada Familia (Google it).
Le Corbusier and several other architects used what I consider an inhuman style that was also very ugly. It's interesting to note, though, that in addition to the factors leading to modern architecture that you mention, only the invention of reinforced concrete and high-quality steel allowed modernist designs to actually be built. So these architects were trying to do something that only the new materials could accomplish, because they wanted to push forward into a new age. Of course, the belief in science and progress, and reaching perfect mathematical forms, motivated this push.
Note also that there was (reportedly, anyhow) a backlash against classical forms precisely because the Nazis had embraced them.
On the design and arrangement of homes more generally -- we were struck, in our trip to Malawi, by the way everyone's living room was completely lined with couches and chairs. Their main room is designed for welcoming in people and sitting with them. (Giving them food and/or tea goes without saying.) When you really believe, deep down, that people visiting your home is a huge blessing for you... that tends to have an observable impact.
I want to be more like that.
That sounds like an amazing book to read. I find architecture interesting, but usually the books have too many words :-P --And I _love_ Epbot! I get so many ideas from there, plus it's a great regular dose of geekiness.
V-Dawg,
Yeah, I think I do need to read Le Corbusier. Now that I'm feeling more solid on its outgrowths, the philosophy would probably be interesting to me. Thanks.
Jonathan and Cossette - I hear ya. ;-)
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