Prairie Stylings

There’s very little to write about Frank Lloyd Wright that scholars haven’t already written.

Frank Lloyd Wright

His affinty for nature, his indefatigable energy, his genius for design, his eagerness to experiment, his immense ego, his appetite for women, his dedication to family–it’s all been revealed and discussed in numerous books and lectures. But it’s also apparent from walking through his Taliesin estate in Spring Green, Wisconsin.

Taliesin house

Leah and I would have preferred the immersive, 4-hr Estate Tour, but when I checked on-line for tickets, only one ticket was available when I needed two. It seems that no tour exceeds 21 people, matching the number of seats on the shuttle. Instead, we opted for the 2-hr Highlights Tour.

We boarded the bus at the Visitor Center–

T Visitors Center

orginally designed by Wright in 1953 as a restaurant and “gateway” to Taliesin, but Wright’s death in 1959 stalled any further construction until his former apprentices completed the building in 1967.

tiger lillies

The ride took us past Midway Barn, Uncle John’s farming complex,

family farm

on the way to Hillside, the site of the home school he built for his Aunts Jane and Ellen Lloyd Jones.

School and Studio (2)

Currently, the building is occupied by a time-shared architecture “Fellowship”–funded by the Taliesin Foundation–that occaisionally gathers in the Assembly Hall,

living room1

Grey's Eulogy

and takes meals in the Fellowship Dining Room,

dining room

before returning to the 5,000 sq. ft. “abstract forest” Drafting Studio.

Fellowship

We finished up at Wright’s intimate, 120-seat Hillside Theater–originally intended as a gymnasium, but converted by Wright to a cultural space after determining that the arts were more important than sports–

Hillside Theater

and reboarded the bus for a brief blast of air conditioning and quick trip to Wright’s home studio,

studio

where we browsed through a drafting room filled with “Usonian” models, like the Willey House from 1934,

Willey House

and assorted personal artifacts.

typed letter

The house was noticably cooler, thanks to geothermal plumbing installed during the third re-build. We rounded the studio from the outside,

studio exterior (2)

walked across a mound with views of the restored Romeo and Juliet windmill,

Romeo and Juliet

and traversed the gardens,

gardens

before re-entering the house through the expansive living room,

Music room1

filled with wonderful flourishes, like glass-cornered windows (which Wright would ultimately perfect at Fallingwater)…

glass corner

built-in table lamps,

floor lamp

and integration of sculptures that survived the previous two house fires.

built.in horse statue

Roaming through Wright’s personal bedroom (because he was an insomniac), we discovered no door, a wall of windows without window treatments, and original electric- blue shag carpeting.

Frank's bedroom

The terrace offered glorious views of the Wisconsin River and Tower Hill State Park,

Tower Hill State Park.jpg

and Unity Chapel in the distance–

Unity Chapel1

 

the site of Wright’s maternal family’s burial plots, his stone marker, and his empty grave.

family grave

As our driver passed Wright’s man-made falls,

water fall

 

our docent passed along a local story of intrigue and scandal:

During March 25, 1985, under cover of darkness, Frank Lloyd Wright’s body was exhumed from his Unity Chapel resting place by his oldest granddaughter, Elizabeth Wright Ingraham, and moved to a burial site at Taliesin West, in Scottsdale, Arizona.

She claimed to be fulfilling the dying wishes of her grandmother and Wright’s widow, Olgivanna Lloyd Wright, whose ashes were united with her husband’s within a memorial wall overlooking Paradise Valley. The event sparked outrage around the globe from associates and friends who argued that the architect would have desired to spend eternity at Unity Church with his family.

Even now, Spring Green residents hope that one day their favorite son will get his ash back to Wisconsin.

Form vs. Function

Just in case you’ve been living under a rock, there is no better rock to be living under than Fallingwater, located in the Laurel Highlands of southwestern Pennsylvania along Bear Run. Where else could you retract a glass floor to walk down a set a stairs from your living room, and soak your tired feet in running water spilling over rolling rocks? With stone quarried on site, and repeated themes of cascading concrete terraces that cantilever throughout the structure to resemble nearby rock formations, I can’t imagine another residence anywhere that is so bound by its natural habitat.

P1010122.JPGP1010127.JPGFallingwater is considered the finest piece of mid-century architecture anywhere, and it’s a treat to tour the house from the perspective of the Kaufmann family, who commissioned Frank Lloyd Wright to design the retreat at the age of 70 in 1935. Completed in 1937 for $155,000, Wright frequently battled with Edgar Sr.–a Pittsburgh department store magnate–to preserve his purist design.

While the family respected Wright’s vision and artistic integrity, moreover, they wanted a house that would work for them–a house that they could live in. And so, Wright, who was at the nadir of his career, and famous for his unwillingness to compromise, held his breath and took on a client who had an equally strong idea of how his house should function. That they would survive such a contentious relationship for the sake of art and design is a testament to patron/artist symbiosis.

The sound and smell of water is omnipresent from room to room. There are no blinds or drapes that would rob the senses of scenic vistas–only walls of glass that seam at the corners, or more miraculously, windows that hinge without a trace of interruption.

Much of the furniture is built-in, and would seem uncomfortable, as if to suggest to the tenant that it’s motivation is to drive you outside, where nature is always the winner. But there are touches of warmth as well, including a massive fireplace with a swinging cauldron that could easily provide gallons of hot toddies when pulled into the fire, and bathroom walls and floors lined in cork.

The steel beams that buttress the building are colored to respect the outcroppings.

P1010129.JPG

And other beams are playfully conversational and conservational.

The notion of unifying form with function is always contentious. The language of one easily dominates the other, leading to certain confusion and discord. But if both sides listen at the same time, and hear the quiet between the noise of overlapping voices, then something wonderful happens, and it’s called Fallingwater.