GSD Harvard
Scarborough College, Toronto
Scarborough College, Toronto
Student Housing, University of Guelph
Miami Seaport Passenger Terminal
The
building has been known for many years. The large photo-mural of its
interior had been passed every day for years when working in the
office. It was an impressive structure, a new concept in studio
design. The office of John Andrews had completed the project in its
heady days in North America. The office had done some impressive work
and had earned an international reputation – Scarborough College, Toronto,
1963; Student Housing, University of Guelph, 1968; the Miami Seaport
Passenger Terminal, 1970; etc. . . It was work that turned the eyes
of the world towards the office of this irrepressible larrikin, the daredevil Australian who was eventually brought back to his home
country with the promise of the Cameron Offices, Belconnen, 1973-1976
– then one of Australia's largest and most prestigious jobs on offer at
the exciting time when Gough Whitlam was PM.
John Andrews
Cameron Offices, Belconnen
Cameron Offices, Belconnen
Gund Hall, Harvard
The
Harvard Graduate School of Architecture and Design, (GSD), Gund Hall, 1972,
like the other John Andrews work, stirred preconceptions of what a
building, here a school of architecture, might be: see -
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2012/06/what-is-school-of-architecture.html
Images of this structure were published throughout the world in
glossy magazines. The esteemed project became the idol for new
architectural ideas, showing how visions could transform experience;
how space and place could define interaction and participate in
learning. The GSD was an impressive structure, especially with
its surprising social connectivity; a place in which bright young architects
were to be raised. What might be a better project to promote ideas
and experiments for the new world order; to change the future?
The
building became well-known through all of its impressive photographic
images. These usually showed the students working in and using the
place, highlighting the intended personal interaction with glowing
success. One was transfixed. This was quality work, a landmark that
held its place in history, in the story of architecture and the life
of learning.
It
was not until recently that any more thought had been given to this
building that had buried itself in one’s psyche. John Andrews had
moved away from the architectural world, and, sadly, this world
seemed happy to ignore him and his efforts: to almost mock them. It
is a great shame that the profession is so rudely bitchy in such a
determined, but petty manner. Does it see itself as a group of genius
individuals where each is always better than the other; always able to achieve more and different?
Gund Hall (GSD) - the 'art' image
Time
passed.
The
plan was to visit New York for two weeks: the thought was that Boston
could be a day-or-two trip from New York. Might it be possible to get
to Boston? Google Maps was opened, then Google Earth. Distances were
gauged; railway stations were located. Google's Street View was opened so that
the place could be reviewed. The various likely journeys were
perused: then back to the maps. In the middle of Cambridge, the
distinctive road pattern stood out: ‘Harvard’ was notated in the coloured patch at the centre. Why not look around here?
Street
View toured the streets, then returned to the Google Earth aerial view: there was
very little that was memorable. Where was the GSD? The name was typed
in, the Earth spun, and it appeared. Street View was opened: how did
this structure look in its location? The building was well-known, but
the images were always trimmed, isolating the wedged concrete mass
from its context. What was its place in Harvard? One expected open
green, academic courtyards and fields, but no! A dark, banded brick
mass appeared from the StarWars movements; then a pair of
mirror-matching tear-drop planned buildings came into view. Where was
the GSD? The yellow stripe was clicked. As usual, the camera went too
far. A magnificent, decorated brick building came into view. The
screen was spun around, and the familiar image of the GSD appeared:
tall concrete columns carrying a high, long box with its adjacent stepped
mass.
GOOGLE EARTH
The
surprise was that this Andrews building had such neighbours. How
might the thinking about this location be approached today? The GSD
was built at a time of bold gestures, when architecture dreamed of
transforming the old world with new forms; changing it dramatically.
There was very little talk of respecting other places then. Again the
stripe was clicked and another view of the GSD and its surroundings
appeared out of the radial haze. The wedge addressed nothing but a
different neighbour, one half of the tear-drop pair. The visions of
open green space died. The concrete mass was crowded onto a corner
block opposite a superb, historic brick building. A quaint old church appeared as it neighbour. This information
had never been printed; never been declared; had never been seen. It was as if only the
GSD was important: apparently neighbours were irrelevant. One might
argue that the raised open colonnade was a spatial gesture to the
old precinct, but this seemed to stretch things into apologetic language
rather than explain any existing circumstance. There was really nothing other
than the declaration of the concrete GSD: ME! - screaming out ‘I
AM!’ with biblical fervour. Oddly, the entry into this mass could
not be clearly identified; other formal issues seemed more critical.
How
might one have thought about the Andrews GSD if the complete context
had been known? Today this boldness would very likely be treated
with harsh disdain by some critics. What might have been possible?
How have young minds been altered? Looking around the streets nearby,
it seems that nothing has changed; that all architects still work to
their own visions irrespective of context, completely ignoring the
work of others. ‘I am the greatest,’ seems to be the quiet,
primal scream of each place. Street View makes this clear, not the
magazines that evade the unspectacular; the everyday; the ordinary
mishmash of our world.
Street View
The
point is that if the architects and the architectural press are not
going to tell the whole story, we must rely on Google Earth's Street View to reveal this. The Drew Heath house and the Glen Murcutt mosque clearly have
been managed likewise, using carefully selected images in their self-promotion; Street View tells us this: see -
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2016/11/drew-heath-bespoke-details-practise.html
and
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2017/01/murcutts-mosque-meanings-sources.html
If we are going to learn so much through images, we need to know
all, or else it is only partial information, misinformation, that
we are using to form opinions. Peter Rice has written about the power
of the photograph to mislead: see -
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2017/05/peter-rice-all-about-details.html
We are not all able to see everything in situ, but the world is such
that everything can be photographed and reproduced quickly for
everyone to see everywhere, anywhere, at any time. Architects in the Shetland
Islands drool over the Murcutt houses in front of their cosy fires
while gales rage outside; then try to do likewise. It is this distorted 'seeing' that needs to be opened up to show everything, rather than
only illustrate, illuminate, what the 'art' camera chooses; or what the architect
might prefer to be seen. Harry Seidler used to take the angles for the images of his buildings for
the professional photographer to finesse. He defined the ‘what’
and the ‘how.’
Street View
This
careful management of identity is all too artfully quaint: too many misguided
perceptions are created. Our world becomes known as a series of chosen
‘art’ images, preferred views. Street View does away with this
selection process and reveals the real world – the camera moving
through it in the everyday, along the street, unannounced.
The adjacent church is usually cropped or concealed
This is not the 'iconic' side of the GSD
If
the world is not to be misled, then we need Street View to be used everywhere,
everyday in order to overcome this guise. Only, it seems, in this way
will we be able to see the true building, not the rose-tinted version
of it. Then we can act appropriately rather than continue with our
hagiographical bowing to the genius of the architect: consider
Hadid’s museum in Glasgow: -
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2012/01/pedestrian-approach.html
. . . . . .
. . . . . .
Piano's 'art' views of the Whitney Museum of American Art
GOOGLE EARTH
STREET VIEW
We
need to introduce, and to be introduced to all buildings with Street
View if we are unable to see them 'in the flesh.' Only in this way might we overcome the illusion of the precious photograph. Those grand images of the GSD will never be able to cheat
us again. We must become more honest with each other and stop trying
to declare everything as brilliant, if only it can be seen alone. “We
are not alone” should be the cry on everyone's lips, not in reference to any
mysterious experience of aliens, but as a statement of fact. We create an alien experience with
all of these ‘special’ views, images that disguise the
existential issues and highlight only what the architect thinks is
critical – him/herself; his/her brilliance; her/his pure genius, all revealed in this frame.
The 'art' views are all artfully cropped or shaded
We
are a community; we build communities; we never build alone. The
street is all we really have – see
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2015/02/the-importance-of-street.html We need Street View to show us this world; to reveal the ordinary,
the everyday, that can be transformed through accommodation and
adaptation rather than exclusion.
. . . . . .
Then
the idea was, if Boston could not be visited, maybe Philip Johnson's work in New Canaan could be seen.
Earth moved, the idea of the glass box in the green hills was
transformed: the area was almost dense suburbia – numerous swimming
pools, one per grassy mansion, surround this International icon that
has become a tourist destination, a real business. Google Earth has
shown this. 'The Glass House' is located directly opposite the
railway station, as the promotional Visitor Centre, not the iconic dwelling!
GOOGLE EARTH
STREET VIEW
Entry
House on street in front of The Glass House
Johnson's buildings are fully exposed to the street
The neighbouring house on the street is on the left, just out of frame
The
real interest was the repair pattern in the bitumen road outside the
railway station. Thanks Google Earth! The surprise was that The Glass House was on full view from the road, and that it had a timber gabled house in front of it. Everyone needs to know the world
through Street View. All other images are, to use the terrible
Trump-word that has become overused in his strange cause, FAKE! The
unplanned world in the Street View vistas sings like Shelley’s
skylark, revealing ‘unpremeditated art.’ The world we now have
thrives on the selective, premeditated image, its artifice. Only, it seems, Street
View will overcome this problem: egos seem too huge to change the canny strategies of self-promotion, of presenting only the 'preferred' vision, perhaps the idea that was never really made manifest.
The view to the street is never revealed
The neighbouring house is never seen.
The Glass Box is promoted as an isolated gem secluded in the woods*
The view back to the street is always ignored in favour of the vista of 'virgin' nature
Who would have thought that this was the view from the street?
For more on architectural visions, see: http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2014/04/seeing-what-we-believe-idyllic-visions.html
* NOTE
28 November 2017
It is Mies van der Rohe's Farnsworth House near Plano, Illinois, west of Chicago that was Johnson's inspiration. The Farnsworth House truly is the isolated gem in the woods. The house uses "the trees as its curtains." Johnson, being more of an extrovert than Mies, probably loved the exposure of his glass box that seems less likely to bring tears to the eyes in the way that Mies's classicism has done to seasoned reviewers.
* NOTE
28 November 2017
It is Mies van der Rohe's Farnsworth House near Plano, Illinois, west of Chicago that was Johnson's inspiration. The Farnsworth House truly is the isolated gem in the woods. The house uses "the trees as its curtains." Johnson, being more of an extrovert than Mies, probably loved the exposure of his glass box that seems less likely to bring tears to the eyes in the way that Mies's classicism has done to seasoned reviewers.
Farnsworth House
29 MARCH 2019
Alas, it floods:
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