The Duality of Density

Le Corbusier: Chandigargh. Superimposed Independence.

It’s a given today that most buildings have open airy public spaces. In these buildings, the private functionally dense spaces such as bathrooms, utility rooms and vertical transportation tend to be clustered into private dense cores. These contrast greatly with the open, usually light filled and glazed open spaces that contain the more ambiguous function of human interaction and use. The cores are function concentrated, the public spaces, even though they may be given the titled function of (for example) lobby, or reception hall, contain within a freer nature in regard to their functions. If this is ubiquitous and happens in most modern buildings I could name off any number of arbitrary examples to describe this duality of density , but I will look at something else: This density duality becomes interesting when the architect acknowledges and aggrandizes this contrast for effect. The super functional dense space is then balanced with the freer space creating a tension between; opacity/transparency, density/openness, and strict functionality/organic functionality.

Le Corbusier: Domino Structural System.

The Industrial Revolution allowed for column and beam design to span much greater distances. When architects such as Le Corbusier finally embraced this we suddenly see a distilled separation between building functions that were once contained in unity. The Domino column system Le Corbusier developed finally allowed walls the freedom from structurally bearing loads. This allowed freedom of placement and materiality. Inevitably this led to the ubiquitous use of glass facades in public rooms. By necessity this forced more private and unsightly functioning rooms such as bathrooms to remain opaque and concealed. Le Corbusier may have brought the Domino system to the modern world but he didn’t utilize the freedom it garnered as much as his contemporaries in the 1920s. Le Corbusier, even after the Domino system, continued to create sculptural form driven buildings that held up ambiguities in functional density. He does do it, but not as clearly as Mies Van Der Rohe would. The Villa Savoye plays with programmatic and structural contrast but packages it in an ambiguous fashion. The elements are less distilled. The House of Parliament in Chandigargh India built in 1961 demonstrates a clear separation between the rigid structural grid matrix and a free plan. Stairs, bathrooms and the parliament assembly hall float in allotted spaces not determined by the grid. Structure and function operate in superimposed independence.

MVDR: Chicago Federal Center Lobby.

Mies Van Der Rohe took the distillation of function and density and perfected it. The pinnacle of dual density can be found in his glass skyscrapers. The Chicago Federal Center is a perfect example of his skyscraper archetype. The lobby is the best place to start because the public part has an ambiguous functionality. In other words, function in a lobby is liquid, it changes periodically and adapts to certain uses, whether it be asking for information at a kiosk, getting coffee or waiting for a rendezvous. The lobby is glazed and open, columns are minimized in order to allow as free and indeterminate space as possible. In bold contrast to this are the hyper functional cores, opaque, clad in granite, containing elevators, stairs, and other mechanical utilities. Openings are minimized. It is meant strictly as a solid element. The ground and cores are clad in the same material to reinforce this solidity. The duality is uncompromising: when in the open lobby we are confronted with giant monoliths of functionality. A lesser architect would have broken up the severity of the contrast, even added clerestory windows in the bathrooms! But Mies does not, he chooses to exploit the contrast completely. Mies may have not been the first one to have a skyscraper with a core, but he was the first to completely distill the core from the rest of the building in such a complete way. Almost all architects after him copied this skyscraper archetype to such a degree it is hard to appreciate the original.

MVDR: Crown Hall Section Showing Sectional Density.

The basement into Crown Hall. Oooh ominous.

Mies utilized this core distillation in several of his other notable “Pavilion” type buildings. With the pavilion type he began distilling function by levels. Crown Hall and the Berlin National Gallery are both essentially dense opaque plinths full of function topped off by glass pavilions completely open, uninterrupted and functionally liquid. To further the freedom of the space he relegates the structural supports to the outside allowing for almost no interruptions whatsoever in the pavilions. Visiting Crown Hall it is jarring to descend the open stairs of the glass pavilion and arrive in a dark concrete block hallway with minimal light. It’s like walking into a completely different building, one that is certainly more conventional. Mies put the serious constraining business of his buildings in these plinths allowing the space above an uncluttered haven for creative thought and open dialogue.

Johnson's Glass House Plan.

Philip Johnson Glass House arguably demonstrates this dual density more successfully than the Farnsworth House. In Johnson’s House the core is asymmetrically placed, cylindrical and clad in brick, just like the floor. The fireplace in the core grounds it further. It is the anchor and the glass house seems pinned down by it. The tension is marvelous between the shape, the materiality and the completeness of the opacity versus the transparent walls. The ceiling, which is also opaque is not embraced by the core and floor, but instead seems to float by using the simple trick of cladding it in white plaster. Had it been a darker color or clad in brick the house would have taken on too much of a severity, the contrast would have remained ambiguous. Now that I think about this, the rule of floating ceiling and grounded floor seem to be almost universal in mid-century minimalism. I will explore this in another post.

Kahn: Richards Medical Research. Density chimneys.

Many of you may be thinking by now that Louis Kahn has already expressed this duality when he spoke of his servant and served spaces, and yes I agree with you. Louis Kahn exploited contrast when it came to functionality. His architecture is bold and unambiguous in this way. Richards Medical Research Laboratory at the University of Pennsylvania is an early and great example of dual density. The labs are comprised of autonomous squares connected by transitional hallways. The squares are glazed and uninterrupted by structural supports. The function is liquid; the scientists are free to conduct their business. The functionally dense portions of the lab are relegated to core elements attached on the center perimeters. These functionally dense spaces are appropriately opaque, being clad in brick. They also have a vertical thrust that contrasts with the horizontal stacking of floors. One small criticism: Had Kahn used brick exclusively in the vertical core elements instead of using brick accents on the facade the contrast would have been better distilled. The brick on the facade is used to articulate structure versus infill, but some slight difference in hue or materiality in contrast to what is used in the cores might help. (I’m not arrogant enough to suggest that Louis Kahn got it wrong, the building is stunning as is, and his dedication to his craft leads me to believe he exhausted every possibility before deciding on the final solution of this building.)

Kahn: Salk Court. Is there a more perfect space?

The Salk Institute is another strong example by Louis Kahn of this functionally dual density. In this building we find a complete distillation between freedom and density. The stairs, elevators bathrooms and utilities are relegated to opaque core elements clad in concrete. These cores, in rhythmic ribbons, are offset by completely open laboratory floors where Scientists are unhindered in their pursuits. Taking this distillation to the next level, Kahn relegated all mechanical and structural systems in the interstitial floors between the laboratories. So basically, a lab is found on every other floor with a utility floor sandwiched between them. Similar to what Mies did with his pavilion buildings, functional distillation is remedied in section. Kahn addresses the dual density once more with the dramatic courtyard. The courtyard separates the building in two. It is open in every way, its function is completely liquid, in fact it has a fountain that embraces the coastline in the distance. It is a place of repose, reflection and escape in contrast to the heavy task of work. Louis Kahn acknowledged, embraced and exploited the myriad dualities found in architecture. He was truly a genius.

Many more examples come to mind of this duality of density, most notably the Lloyd’s of London Building whose drill bit stairwells contrast with glass floors, albeit the building is so busy with high-tech clutter the distillation is not entirely clear. The master architect, when dealing with functions that vary wildly, is able to tease a distilled clarity from the complex and confusing realm of architecture.

Lloyd's of London. Busy Business.

Delayed

Sorry for the delay in blog posts, I am between addresses. I have one in the works right now about the duality of density that should be up shortly.

Protection and Connection Part III: Pre-Modernism

Typical Villa in Pompeii (photo by Argitect)

As I’ve pointed out earlier, the concept of protection and connection in architecture has been around since the beginning of building. This post will show the protection/connection devices of pre-modern architecture.

The rhetoric and technology of ancient architecture inclines itself towards a protective nature. The architecture is heavy, thick walled, and sparsely windowed. This is done for two pragmatic reasons. First; the ancients needed to protect themselves from invaders. Second; the limited building technology available at the time (monolithic post and lintel) prevented architects from creating large light filled spaces. For non-pragmatic reasons one still felt the need for architecture to be a buffer against the true harshness of nature. In other words, architecture is a corporeal force that keeps death and hardship at bay. For a time this rhetoric outweighed a desire for a re-connection with nature. The first civilizations had their fill of nature, it was time to go indoors. The stake of mankind in the realm of nature is assured. Nature is alleviated, mitigated, conquered!

Temple of Edfu, Egypt. The portico surrounded courtyard is the large open area.

Portico and Courtyard:

The Ancient Egyptians did desire a connection with nature within their limited technology. This was accomplished with spaces that had the ambiguous quality of being neither indoors nor outdoors. The portico and courtyard (which are used in architecture throughout history), create a connection to nature while at the same time protecting. The early Pylon facade temples of Ancient Egypt usually had an interior court skirted by a column-supported portico. Under the portico, one was protected from the most basic of nature’s torments: sun and rain. The portico does not protect from wind and temperature. It provides a view to the sky and landscape. The view is framed and thus given more order. The interior courtyard, with the porticos eliminating all views of the outside but the sky, also seems to be a place of ambiguity. It is connected with nature but quarantined from it. It is a space demonstrating protection and connection. The contrast between the courtyard and the interior temple are profound and will be discussed in a later post about dual density.

Le Corbusier sketch of Greek Ruins

The portico was famously developed in Greek temples. A traditional Greek temple would house a usually windowless and dark, thick walled temple. This temple would be surrounded by a columned portico. The Parthenon is the most perfect example of the Greek Temple and it’s supreme archetype. The portico is vast and set upon a pedestal that distances itself from the earth. Fluted columns frame carefully planned and beautiful views of nature. One is neither inside nor out. Protection and connection is in balance. Roman temples added nothing new to the archetype except for the arch and the dome whose best example is at the Pantheon (Whose Oculus is another great example of protection/connection). The arch and the dome allowed for large interior spaces. One could argue that this actually hindered the buildings from further connection to nature. The large vaulted basilicas and public baths usually had small windows that perhaps didn’t let much light in. These buildings had a hermetic tendency.

The typical house of Ancient Rome made use of an interior courtyard that would allow for the entrance of fresh air and light and the exit of smoke and funk. The courtyard is surrounded by thick walled living quarters that are unfriendly to the street. These rooms had very small windows if any. They opened inwards toward the courtyard. A donut of protection surrounds an island of connection.

Gothic Glass.

Translucent Glass:

In the Gothic Cathedral one finds a desire for the buildings to have more light, to look more lightweight, but also to remain sealed in upon themselves. Just like in Egyptian Temples, the front of a typical Gothic Cathedral is bold and has terrifying proportions. The inside however utilizes much more glass than has ever been seen before. The glass, is not transparent but translucent, and consists of colorfully rendered biblical scenes. Had the large expanses of glass been transparent the connection with nature would be much more pronounced. The murky glass, while letting light in, buffers one from the outside world. So, with Gothic Cathedrals, we see a style that develops the flying buttress to allow for more windows, but keeps the windows from connecting with nature fully. It is a strange Pro/Con duality.

Campidoglio by Michelangelo.

Perspective:

The Renaissance contributes little to the protection/connection duality. The discovery of perspective did find it’s way in some buildings. This perspective manipulation had the potential to aesthetically draw nature within. I’m sure there are better examples of this but the one that comes to my mind is the courtyard of the Campidoglio in Rome by Michelangelo. The two flanking building of the Campidoglio are at angles in such a way as to make the courtyard between them become a trapezoidal shape. This manipulated courtyard when seen from the steps of the central buildings can trick the eye and make one believe the courtyard is larger than it is. It can also be used to lure the horizon toward it. This embrace could create a closer connection with nature.

Schinkel: Altes Museum Entry

Schinkel Villa

19^th Century:

Just before the aesthetics of architecture were influenced by the Industrial Revolution Karl Friedrich Schinkel was perhaps the last major architect to utilize some pro/con techniques. His Altes Museum had a central entry portico that reached inside the building so effectively it created a wonderful interstitial space that bridged the gap between exterior and interior. His villa projects also utilized portico spaces to create an ambiguous transition between inside and out. The “Roman Baths” at the Villa in Chalottenhof has an ivy covered portico that branches off of the main building and wraps around a tailored garden. The device is effective as a protection connection element.

Joseph Paxton: Crystal Palace.

Early Industrial Revolution feats include the Crystal Palace. Here the concept of protection and connection is complete. Walls and roof are made of transparent glass and held up by a light filigree of iron structure. All visual barriers to outside are eliminated while all the negative effects of nature are mitigated. (Well.... not entirely. I imagine the greenhouse effect could be quite high in such a space as that.)

The concept of protection/connection throughout architectural history has been an important motif since the earliest days of building. The demands of architecture by the people are the same as they have always been: a building that protects one from nature, but done in such a way as to not cut one off from nature. What a defiant and comforting feeling we have when witnessing a thunderstorm from behind glass.

A sketch by Mies Van Der Rohe of a garden proposal for the Tugendhat House. View from window of main house.

Protection and Connection Part II: Albert Frey

Frey House I: Showing extension of walls and overhang of roof.

Albert Frey is an important modern architect who studied under Le Corbusier for a time and built almost all of his work in Palm Springs, California. Most of his buildings are potent examples of the protection/connection duality that I have discussed in my previous post. He took many of these elements farther than any architect. The illusion of ambiguity he created between inside and outside was so effective photographs are sometimes no help in discerning where building and nature divide. Below I will discuss the connection devices of his work. The protection device will again not be discussed in too much detail, but it is found in all his works as a large flat overhanging roof. This roof is the abstracted buffer zone between inside and out. It hovers over the proceedings.

Connection devices applied to the works of Albert Frey

Horizontal Thrust: Most, if not all, of these connection devices can be shown in the constantly evolving house that Frey built for himself in Palm Springs. (Unfortunately this house was torn down in the 60’s by a developer who ended up going bankrupt. Nothing was developed on the site; the demolition was all in vain!) The horizontal thrust is shown foremost in the fact that most of his buildings are a single story. This gives them a horizontal appearance. In Frey’s house, as well as the Loewy House, a perimeter pergola around the outside of the private garden extends construction beyond the interior and creates an embracing line that combines with the distant horizon.

Floor to Ceiling Glass: This does not need to be elaborated, but yes, all of his later works incorporated floor to ceiling glass in almost every exterior facing wall.

Homogeneous Use of Inside and Outside Materials: Combined with the large expanses of glass and the extension of walls and roof, the homogenous use of materials is very effective in his houses and reinforcing this connection with outside space. In his own house he would transform the floor as it went outside. The grid of the concrete porch would protrude in spots and create chairs. These chairs looked like strange outcroppings with cushions on them. Creating built in furniture on the outside also furthered the blurring of the line between in and out.

The Extension of Wall: Frey used this device very effectively in his own house as well as the Hatton House. He said these, “walls that go out and make spaces within the landscape.” These walls used the same materials from inside to out and floated between the planes of the floor and the ceiling. The extensions of these walls in plan evoke a compacted version of the brick country house project by Mies Van Der Rohe. They accomplish a lot towards drawing one outside and bringing nature inside. An innovation Frey brought to this concept is the extending of glass walls. In his own house one can see a glass wall with a metal frame continue beyond it’s necessary edge out into nature. The frame continues but once it goes outside the glass is gone. This is one of the most effective examples of extended walls I have ever seen in terms of its ambiguity.

Frey House I: Extension of walls. Also note the inside/outside relationship between furniture.

The Overhang of Roof: In almost all of these low one-story houses the roof overhangs and the materials between inside and out on the ceiling are often the same. The overhang is very necessary in the hot desert climate of Palm Springs. But beyond pragmatism, the overhanging roof is just one more element that reinforces this embrace towards the horizon. At the same time it reaches out for nature it protects one from nature. The overhanging rood does double duty as protector and connector.

Disappearing Glass: He used sliding glass doors often and effectively in his own home. This literally destroyed the barrier between inside and out, and put the entire burden of protection on the roof.

The Pool: No other architect was more effective at using a pool that straddled between inside and out. Frey used it most effectively in the Loewy House. A large swimming pool dips into the living room. This combined with sliding floor to ceiling glass creates a completely ambiguous line between inside and out. The only cue of division is found on the floor; the living room is carpeted and the porch is concrete. Other than that the connection is perfect. The plan of the Loewy House perfectly shows many of the dualities I have been discussing in my recent posts. It is a perfect example of Mullet Architecture in that the front facade is private, has few windows and seems to hermetically shun it’s environment. The private garden facade is all glass and thus open to nature. The duality between order and chaos as mentioned previously with the Villa Mairea by Alvar Aalto is evoked in the relationship between the ordered house and the amoebous swimming pool. This whole house is about dualities.

Loewy House: The pool, disappearing glass, horizontal thrust.

Loewy House: The Pool, Mullet Architecture, order and primitivism.

-The Natural Element: (This is a new connection device that was not in the previous post because I could not find a good example besides Frey.) An element of nature that is brought inside the house and integrated into the architecture is yet another powerful way of creating a connection with the outside. A wonderful example of this can be found in the house that Albert Frey designed for himself in Palm Springs in 1964. The house is built on a rocky mountainside and its most noticeable feature is the wall that separates the living room from the bedroom. It is not a wall at all but a giant boulder! The house was designed around the giant boulder. The rock is an integral part of the design. It also goes a long way in creating an ambiguity between the inside and the outside especially when used in conjunction with continuous glass curtain walls. All of the previous connection devices I have mentioned were aesthetic and mostly implied connections through a visual blurring of inside and out. At Frey’s house, the boulder is still nature. The house is connected to its environment by having a prominent piece of it in the house. The duality of protection and connection becomes more complicated here as well. The connecting element in this case is also the major protecting element. The rock anchors the house and gives the tenant a feeling of support and strength if any bad weather should strike. This is literally true because the boulder allows the house to be earthquake proof. Frey said; “..whenever there is a quake the house moves with the rock and there’s no damage.” The rock serves the dual purpose of protection from nature and connection with nature.

Frey House II: The boulder as natural element. Protection and Connection!

Albert Frey was a master at creating modern architecture that had a serious relationship with nature. Too bad, in the second decade of the twentieth century, most people are still choosing to live in houses that are cut off from the outside: Too much protection, not enough connnection.

Note: All the photographs in this post were taken by the amazing architectural photographer, Julius Shulman.

Protection and Connection Part 1: Architecture's Dual Relationship with Nature

Richard Neutra: Chuey House

Since the beginning, protection from the elements was the initial motivation for the invention of Architecture. In the past this has been accomplished rather well with walls and sloped roofs. The walls of pre-modern structures were almost always load-bearing. This required them to have a certain thickness. This thickness also allowed the walls to serve as great insulators from temperature fluxes. Small windows allowed a glancing connection to nature. This need for connection as well as protection has been a vital duality in architecture since it’s beginnings. The use of small windows and light-filled courtyards allowed the benefits of nature to inhabit the dwellings while leaving the discomforting elements out.

In the Modern Era it’s evident that the desire for a closer connection to nature took root. The increased use of glass combined with the separation of structure from facade (Le Corbusier’s Domino frame) allowed this development to occur. For mainly spiritual reasons, the modern movement sought to blur the lines between inside and out. They sought to allow buildings to breath from under the weight of gravity. Architecture must protect, but beyond that the Modern Architects devised a number of tricks to give the illusion of free exchange between inside and outside. In this world of connection the wall disappears and the roof stands out as the main symbol of protection.

Connection Devices:

- Horizontal Thrust: The horizontal line is the line that goes along with nature. The vertical line declares its independence from nature. The emphasis of the horizontal can most clearly be seen in the early development of the Prairie Style by Frank Lloyd Wright. These early houses seek a connection with nature by blending into the horizontal countryside they inhabit. The house becomes less intrusive, less about being clearly man made, and more a part of their environment. From inside the low horizontal lines seen in railings and overhangs compliment the distant line on the horizon and include it as part of the aesthetic experience of the house. Naturally this would work best in the actual countryside where the horizon is uninterrupted. Prairie Houses in urban areas tend to lose this effect.

Mies Van Der Rohe: Farnsworth House demonstrating floor to ceiling glass and homogenous materiality.

-Floor to ceiling glass: The use of floor to ceiling glass is the most obvious and effective way to establish a visual connection between inside and out by foiling any obstructions of view. The perfect example of this is at the Farnsworth House. The true effectiveness of the glass must be experienced in person to understand just how open and connected the house is with nature. The only cues that there is any disconnect from the outside is in the perception of wind. One can see the wind whipping the tree, but one can’t feel or hear it. Well-cleaned glass goes a long way in establishing a kinship with nature in domestic houses to a degree unimagined even a hundred years prior.

-Homogenous use of inside and outside materials: When using large expanses of glass, the use of the same materials on the same plane in the exterior and the interior is very effective at creating the illusion of connection to the outside. There are many examples of this. The Farnsworth house, once again, uses travertine on the outside porch as well as in the inside living space. The rustic stone floor in the living room at Fallingwater seamlessly pours out onto the terraces.

MVDR: Project for a brick country house. The extension of walls.

-The extension of walls: Where an opaque wall abuts a large amount of glass, the extension of the wall to the outside creates an illusion of continuation from outside to inside. No built project can convey this idea better than the floor plan Mies Van Der Rohe drew for the Brick Country House. The plan is intentionally abstract to read, and the inside is difficult to distinguish from the outside. This is accomplished because the walls do not enclose space, they envelop around it, creating incidental room-like areas. These walls extend beyond their necessary edges and reach out into the landscape. They leave the impression of continuation into infinity. This is similar to what happens in Mondrian’s paintings: the lines slide past each other and beyond the painting implying a snapshot of an infinite condition. This outreach into nature is an embrace that invites nature to connect with the interior spaces.

Neutra: Kaufmann House showing the overhang of roof and disappearing glass.

-The overhang of roof: Similar to the extension of walls, the extension of roof into the outside can blur the boundary between inside and out. This technique is only truly effective when the overhang is flush with the interior ceiling. Richard Neutra’s houses are really good with the connective overhang. His most famous example of this roof projection can be found in his residence for Edgar J. Kaufmann (yes the same guy that commissioned Fallingwater). The floor to ceiling glass in the living room reveals an overhang that extends far beyond the glass wall. This effectively confuses the in/out boundary. Neutra’s use of beams on the roof that extend from inside to outside is also very effective in helping this illusion. Sometimes the beams continue beyond the roof and rest on thin columns. The columns are usually the same as the ones on the inside. All of these elements collaborate to create an embracing connection with nature.

Shigeru Ban: Curtain Wall House: Disappearing glass.

-Disappearing glass: Glass walls that can be slid away on tracks or sunken or raised like garage doors also quite literally break the connection between inside and out. As I’ve mentioned in the previous post, the Tugendhat House by Mies Van Der Rohe had glass that could roll into the floor below and completely disappear. Neutra’s Kaufmann House has giant floor to ceiling glass planes that can slide away from the edges, completely opening them up. To dramatic effect the literally titled Curtain Wall House by Shigeru Ban is a completely open house that has large curtains on the perimeter. These curtains can be opened so that the house is a complete exterior space with railings around the edges. The desire by architects to destroy the barrier between inside and out cannot be accomplished more effectively than simply doing away with walls completely!

FLLW: Second Jacobs House. The pool is the circle on the left of the glass side.

-The pool: Many modern architects have used a wading pool that is half indoors and half outdoors to reinforce the idea of connection with nature. The Second Herbert Jacobs House of 1944 by Frank Lloyd Wright is one of the earlier examples I am aware of. Here, a circular pool is situated on the facade so that one half is indoors and the other is outdoors. Lily pads and swimming fish contribute to the effect of connecting pools. The Nesbitt House by Richard Neutra actually predates the Second Jacobs House by two years and also incorporates a half-in half-out wading pool in the entryway. The single large pane of glass above the pool is effective in blurring the exterior division of this pool.

These are just a few of the many aesthetic devices used to connect architecture with nature. The protective element will not be discussed in as much detail as the connective elements because the Modernists were trying to deemphasize this. Protection is found primarily in the roof, which became abstracted and flattened into its essential nature: the boundary between sky and house. Architecture will always need to protect its inhabitants from the rain and the wind and whatever else Mother Nature decides to throw at us. Because of this I do not believe that the spiritual desire for the connection will ever completely conquer the pragmatic need for protection. Next post, I will explore how all of these techniques are incorporated in the work of Albert Frey. Until then, faithful readers.....

Country House Ad Infinitum

Mies Van Der Rohe's Project for a Brick C0untry House reimagined in infinte space. Image by Argitect.

Extend things beyond the necessary edge. This implies infinity. This implies the transient nature of being.

Mullet Architecture Part II: Glass and Privacy

Tugendhat House Frosted Glass Entrance Stair: MVDR

Mullet architecture emerged in the twentieth century for other reasons besides the necessity of hiding architectural flights of fancy from an intolerant and conservative public (For more information on this topic refer to the previous post on Mullet Architecture). Before Modernism, buildings tended to be very bulky and made of masonry. Windows were intermittent and mostly minor interruptions in an opaque facade. This allowed for optimum privacy, especially in private dwellings. As the 20^th Century progressed, glass, concrete and steel replaced masonry as the major materials for building. This increased use of glass allowed for buildings to have a closer connection with the outside world. The downside to this liberal use of glass, especially in residential architecture, was the lack of privacy it garnered. The solution that many modern architects developed was a kind of mullet architecture, where the building was suppressed, guarded and uninteresting on the public side (business) while the backside was an open and free glass facade that engaged a private view (party).

Many architects embraced this hermetic sequestered front facade approach when using increased glass. It is almost a complete reversal of the rules of architecture in the past, wherein a buildings main aesthetic delights were relegated to the front public facade. Here the roles are reversed. The individual’s comfort and privacy take precedence over showing off to the public and creating a status symbol.

MVDR: Court House Projects. Sketch and plans.

The early court house (houses with courtyards, not places to go for traffic violations) projects by Mies Van Der Rohe were an interesting early example of mitigating increased glass use and a desire for privacy. The exterior walls of the houses are floor to ceiling glass. These glass houses are surrounded by spacious gardens that terminate in high opaque masonry walls. These “extension” walls create the privacy from neighbors. Indeed the only thing a person would see on the sidewalk is a tall bland brick wall. These bounding walls also help with the blurred illusion of inside and out that Mies and most modernists were interested in. So the delight and the interesting architecture are hidden from public view. Business in front, party in back indeed.

Tugendhat House: MVDR. Party in the back, business in the front!

Of Mies’s early built works, the Tugendhat House also uses the concept of privacy driven Mullet Architecture. The house itself is on a hill. The front side is on the high end so the house only appears to be one story. The front is mostly white plaster with high clerestory windows and frosted glass. These elements in the front keep it very private, almost unwelcoming. The backside is a different story. The facade is floor to ceiling glass that actually, and ingeniously, is mechanically devised to slide into a hidden pocket and completely disappear. The connection between inside and out is dissolved! This open facade is a vast difference from the opaque front. At about the same time in Los Angeles Richard Neutra was employing the same Mullet Architecture effects to the Lovell Health House of 1929.

Richard Neutra: Lovell Health House

FLLW: Herbert Jacobs House

About the same time Frank Lloyd Wright was also increasing his usage of glass, which in turn required a heightened need for privacy. The development of the Usonian House was realized with the prototypical Herbert Jacobs House (in my opinion the best example of a Usonian House). This house is an L-Plan that opens up to a private high fenced garden in the back. The back facade in the living area is composed mostly of floor to ceiling glass doors that can be opened, thus destroying the barrier between inside and out. The front facade, containing an inconspicuous entrance, a carport, and the utility core is a very hermetic facade, the only windows being high clerestories. The old way of creating a beautiful street facade as a status symbol is gone. The modern dwelling is interested only in the privacy and enjoyment of its tenants. Showmanship no longer is a priority. A further distilled Mullet House can be seen in the second Herbert Jacobs house. This so called “Solar Hemicycle” is an arch shaped wedge that derives its shapes according to the movement of the sun. The south, and private, concave facade is all glass and the north convex facade is brutal stonework that resembles a medieval castle. Nowhere is privacy driven Mullet Architecture more clearly articulated. The duality of domestic architecture is found in the need for freedom and privacy.

Herbert Jacobs House II: The bermed and uninviting back.

Ando: Azuma House

Glass is still a common material used in domestic architecture, so in heavy urban areas the need for a private front and an open back is the norm. There are countless examples of this new paradigm of architectural approach. The houses of Tadao Ando are a perfect example of privacy derived Mullet Architecture. Ando uses his characteristic dimpled concrete as an imposing privacy screen. The back facades are often huge uninterrupted expanses of glass. (Although I guess one could argue that Ando’s dwellings obsess to an exaggerated degree the notion of privacy) The juxtaposition of pure glass and pure concrete in his work is perhaps the mot distilled example yet of the duality of architecture in terms of privacy and freedom.

Final Note: The Farnsworth by Mies Van Der Rohe and Philip Johnson’s glass house clearly do not fit into the category of Mullet Architecture. Privacy in these buildings is created by the fact that the houses are situated in secluded and gated areas. They are surrounded by trees and set far back from the road. So one could make an interesting argument about the extension of architecture reaching to the front gate of a property. The front gate then, in these examples, would be the sober and private business yin to the glass freedom party yang of the houses. Architecture is just like the layers of an onion. One could go as deep into the core as arguing that skin is architecture, just as one could go as far as arguing that our atmosphere is architecture. But, I am getting ahead of myself here.