Speaking Frankly

One of my favorite architects if Frank Lloyd Wright. It's a fairly common condition for students of American architecture - the man is not only a legendary figure, his work stood the test of time (literally and figuratively) and has gone on to form many of the trends we still live with to this day. It is the timelessness of his innovation that speaks to me, and while I find his work often to be brooding and cluttered, I appreciate very much the revolution he helped inform/foment in the way we view living spaces.

It's important to understand the historical context of his design work. He was born in 1867 but didn't really start his work until he was in his thirties. He was influenced in his early years by many sources - he worked with some of Chicago's great and prosperous architects, especially with Louis Sullivan, who designed structures that were intentionally organic in both design and form. He experienced a kind of revulsion from the Victorian designs of the time, looking to open spaces up, emphasizing the horizontality of his buildings, and removing much of the extraneous frippery and gingerbread. He was also heavily influenced by Asian architecture and art, coming to appreciate the beauty in natural forms and the elegance of simple, clear lines, again emphasizing the horizontality of the structure. His buildings were not monuments placed upon the earth; rather, his work felt both connected to the earth and as if they'd sprung out of the skin of the earth itself. And he did it at least 30 years before anyone else, which is what makes it so incredible.

This morning I read this:

http://www.wsj.com/articles/SB10001424127887323372504578469410621274292

Owning an older home is almost always fraught with issues that more recent home owners do not have to concern themselves with. From foundation issues, to roof issues, to everything in between, the standards of construction, building, and repair have changed over the decades, and while standardization makes things easy to install and repair for modern structures, it also means that much of the older stuff is outmoded.

As an example, I learned in my graduate classes in Historical Preservation that the Utah State Capital had an issue with replacing some of the tile in the floor. It's this lovely hexagonal tile, and when the building was made in the 20s, the tile was something like 3/8" thick. Today, the standard is probably something like 1/4", or maybe even 3/16"... which means that there would have been a difference in the thickness of the new vs. the older tiles. This is unacceptable, of course, but what to do? Do you rip out all of the existing tile to get a uniform thickness? If that would even be possible, it probably would be terribly expensive. Besides, such a solution wouldn't remain true to the historicity of the floor... So they had a manufacturer create some historically accurate 3/8" thick tiles to install in the building. I've been up there since, and it's virtually impossible to see where the new tile is placed (you'd probably have to have an old photograph of the cracked old tile...)

So living in an older home can be a challenge, but it comes with rewards. You're holding on to a piece of history. You're helping to inform future decisions in home building, while at the same time preserving a piece of the character of a neighborhood. And you're conserving resources that have already been expended in the creation of the home in the first place, some of which will never be able to be replaced.

You also get to live in a cool old house, which is an intangible, but still very real benefit.

I may never be able to afford a FLW home. But I still appreciate the beauty and elegance of these places, the simplicity and craftsmanship of the spaces, and those who sacrifice to keep them lovely and alive.