Michigan Modern

I recently attended the annual conference of the MHPN in Saugatuck. One talk regarding Mid-Century Modern (preservationists’ latest cause célèbre) included several homes of my former professors whose work is increasingly eligible for listing on the National Register. Seeing the familiar names associated with these homes, I recalled a lecture by one professor, where he described his repeated attempts to detail a brick garden wall without a top cap, presumably because the typical limestone used for such caps was guilty of the "crime" of ornamentation. After several attempts, which failed when water infiltrated, then froze and damaged the wall, he acquiesced and added a stone cap.

With the benefit of hindsight – not to mention centuries of experience – we know that omitting the cap was a questionable idea. If this building been located in a historic district, and the later addition of the cap had been presented to a historic commission, could the change be justified under Secretary of the Interior’s Standards? In particular, Standard #3 states:

Each property shall be recognized as a physical record of its time, place, and use. Changes that create a false sense of historical development, such as adding conjectural features or architectural elements from other buildings, shall not be undertaken.

The initial choice to omit the wall cap was deliberate, a Modernist's attempt to express the pure language of brick. Therefore, it would probably be defined as a character-defining feature of the building. With the growing acceptance of Mid-century Modern buildings as cultural resources, historic district commissions will need to address these buildings’ built-in shortcomings and consider whether to perpetuate bad design in the name of architectural character.

Abram C. Fisk House

Work has begun in earnest on this beautiful 1840’s brick Italianate building in Coldwater, Michigan. The home was built by Abram C. Fisk and the new owner is developing plans for a mixed-use commercial building.

Unlike my past visits, I expect to eventually visit the site when the weather is a bit less dreary. Until then, have a look at the history of this great home, in a video produced by the owner: www.bluehat.tv/ (The video is near the bottom of the page.)

Broad Museum

With the return of the fair weather, I’m able to take more frequent walks to the storefront shops along Grand River Avenue. Some new businesses have moved in during the winter months, and I enjoy seeing the activity that sunny days bring. This spring, however, a disturbing new building has finally taken outward form in East Lansing. Like with the newly budding trees, the Broad Art Museum developed through the winter and now is firmly rooted on the north edge of the campus.

I can appreciate and support any new construction and the uplifting appearance it gives. Since my family’s return to Michigan in 2007, the construction industry has endured a prolonged downturn. While I support the patrons’ strong vision and their desire place a landmark building on campus, few would be surprised to know that I do not like this building.

The building lacks Context of Place and of Purpose, exhibiting neither the character of Mid-Michigan nor the university museum – even one that is intended to house Modern art. I could charitably suggest that it does exhibit a Context of Period, but only insofar as architectural intellectuals believe that an out-of-balance, deliberately uncomfortable building symbolizes “the university’s trajectory into the future.”

Naturally, the building has its supporters; most have limited their praise to the hackneyed claim that, “It looks like sculpture.” On the contrary, it looks like a mishap. In fact, the strongest compliment I’ve heard is that it is much better than the other entries. Given the appearance of the winner, this does not exactly fill me with confidence.

Teaching the Guild

The following is a rough transcript of a talk presented to the Okemos Chapter of Business Networking International. As typical, I began with a story (lifted from This Old House).

In 1939, Herbert "Hib" Johnson threw a housewarming party at Wingspread, his new 14,000-square-foot residence designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. As dinner was being served in the great hall, a thunderstorm erupted, and water began dripping steadily into the room. Johnson, CEO of the S.C. Johnson Wax Company, phoned Wright in a rage. "I'm sitting here with some friends and distinguished guests," he fumed, "and the roof is leaking right on top of my head!"

"Well Hib " Wright replied, "why don't you move your chair?"

Unfortunately, this is not an unusual impression of architects. As a profession, we are often seen as aloof or egomaniacal. Many people are reluctant to engage an architect, due to this perceived arrogance. In contrast, my practice is to apply my knowledge and experience to develop a creative solution that incorporates the owner’s wants and desires, while incorporating my own input as well as the needs of the community.

The house on the right stands as an example of a design composed without regard to community. It provides no sense of place and is unnecessarily complicated. In contrast, the house on the left addresses both the interior uses and the public’s needs. The substantial front porch is traditionally considered the owner’s gift to the neighborhood. The front elevation – and all elevations for that matter – are carefully considered and thoughtfully composed.

Before returning to Michigan in 2007, I worked as the Manager of Architecture and Design at a Traditional Neighborhood Development. One of my responsibilities was to teach traditional detailing and construction to a group of established residential contractors. All were successful businessmen, but most were more accustomed to with building homes like those on the right in the drawing above. Such homes are anonymous, bloated and entirely lacking charm. The elevations are poorly composed, with the sides entirely lacking any detail. They exhibit tremendous size, but no charm.

In contrast, the traditional design that I was to teach has its own lexicon of terms. Authentic building requires a particular set of skills; while there is no one right solution, there are plenty of wrong ones. It became job to teach these experienced builders to appreciate the distinctions of the house on the left: unique, small-scale detail with strong contextual influences. The home possesses a smaller area, but is designed with very little wasted space.

Knowing that this would be a challenge, we devised a creative way to get these contractors to learn these established patterns of building. We organized a day long field trip where this Builders’ Guild toured authentically detailed buildings, both old and new. There, we conducted a scavenger hunt, providing the builders with a list of twenty details to find, a digital camera, and several detail cards like the following:

The details on these cards can be located above in the illustration of the two houses.

Many of the terms and elements were obscure, but it was crucial that the contractors identify the various details, by name and their proper place on the building. By the end of the day, the Guild was speaking the language, trading picture cards and identifying previously unknown details.

Our task was accomplished with creativity and engagement. We persuaded the Guild to consider, if not adopt, a different mindset: Building is not necessarily about expensive massing and conspicuous complexity. The simple elegance and authentic detailing of the traditional house could build communities that people cared about – not as an investment, but as a place to dwell.

Traditional Planning

Many of the projects we pursue involve historic buildings. 'east arbor' has a demonstrated capacity with older styles, particularly when tasked to combine new material with the older, existing building fabric. We enjoy working with existing structures and welcome the unknown challenges that inevitably come from the projects. While we focus primarily on buildings, we are equally interested in the history of city planning and design issues that are not limited to individual structures.

As the early use of automobiles became widespread, homes were located further from the core cities. The segregation of residential, commercial and industrial uses into separate zones was more easily accommodated and seemingly reasonable. After all, very few would seek to locate a noxious chemical plant near an elementary school. However, when this ostensibly good idea is carried to its extreme, it can have negative effects. If commercial enterprises are banned from residential zones, the convenient corner store is often moved to a distant strip mall. Vehicular transportation is required to travel between each individual zone.

In contrast, traditional neighborhoods, and newer, traditionally-planned communities allow and encourage walking. By providing for mixed-use development, municipalities can increase the opportunities for simple human interaction. Houses can be smaller, because the amenities we all desire are available elsewhere. The basement bar is replaced by the corner pub. The home entertainment room gives way to the local cinema. A simple walk in the neighborhood could take the place of the home gym.

With the building trade’s recent focus on “Green Building,” we imagine that increased attention will be directed toward good planning practices, their effects on making homes reasonably sized and – as a result – more affordable. Given that traditional planning promotes walking, it is decidedly environmentally friendly and healthy as well. The increased activity on the street supports stronger neighborhoods. Once again, time-tested practices prove their value as they are woven into Modern life.