Food for thought or Philosophical Molotov Cocktail?

<p>The Met Breuer and Guggenheim I have yet to visit (shame!), but the disposition of the works on individual columns of the former would seem to entice the viewer to consider each image not as part of an ensemble but as a statement in its own right. When the viewing leads from one image to the next on a continuous wall it would seem more likely that the viewer connects more readily the sequence presented. Although any Arbus image is very likely part of an organic creative whole, the choice of individual picture columns may diminish overall focus, but Fred appreciated in part the relation of randomness of the exhibition to the nature of street photography (unless I miss the point), the perception of a complexity of human activity.</p>

<p>The Guggenheim's spiral sloping floor mentioned by David and its presentation seems the antithesis of this, inciting the viewer to continue through an exhibition which presumably evolves in its contextual sense as one walks through it. I'm not sure about others, but I think I would be happier contemplating a work while positioned on a relatively horizontal floor.</p>

<p>The outside of the seasonal art gallery repurposed from a former farm shed is shown in the attached image. It is the rear of the gallery, but the street side of this simple French inspired colonial building is very similar (with its central door for vehicle entry, now the gallery entrance). I like the fact that there is no indication outside of its rehabilitated activity, left as a surprise for those entering the building. The Breuer building, also repurposed in a sense (although the Bauhaus architect originally designed it for an art space, it contrasts with its surrounding structures which Breuer saw as being less permanent than his new building), and the Tate Modern, a former fuel fired electricity generation station, are similar in this sense, with the value of linking the art within, their present function, to past human activity.</p><div></div>

Actually, Arthur, the Arbus exhition worked in very much the opposite way. In this case, the whole became greater than

the sum of its parts. Having the column concept create an architecture within which the photos could operate made them

seem more connected rather than less. I didn't experience the columns as discontinuous. They were continuous in a

different way. Sort of like staccato instead of legato but still achieving a melody but with perhaps more of a jazz rather

than classical rhythm. It was a case where the exhibit was as impactful as any individual photo but where I felt each photo

contributed to the exhibit rather than the exhibit overpowering the photos. Seen in this way, the seeming randomness, the

heightened physical presence and consciousness of other lookers and therefore the emphasis on looking, one could glean an Arbus sensibility, the

importance of her body of work as much as the importance of any or each individual photo. If you see only a single Arbus

image, it's a poorer experience than seeing a bunch of them. Seeing them this way gave me, I think, an appropriate

sense of just how she could single people out of a crowd. I agree with you that the viewer, in this exhibition, wouldn't have

connected to a sequence but do think it emphasized the work as a body of work more than a typical showing might have,

in that there was an overall concept tying them together and broadening them, just not a sequential one.

Good point, Phil, about the building allowing for this exhibition to be temporarily constructed rather than forcing this

viewing experience on all exhibits. Interestingly, though, the main criticism of the show, which I disagreed with, is that the

modular setup itself forced a particular kind of viewing. The important difference is that, forced or not and like it or not, the

exhibit was set up for this particular body of work and not more universally for all art shown at the museum. Also

interesting is the word "force" in itself regarding presentation decisions. There are times when I do feel forced by the

curator or exhibition designer into a way of seeing someone's art. I can sometimes appreciate very forceful, strong-willed

presentations, though I guess there's a distinction between the kind of force behind strong-willed and the kind of force

behind strong-armed!

Yes, but once again I think it's important not to limit museum architecture to staid and stately. There are plenty of

alternatives that won't fight with the art even while making strong architectural/aesthetic statements themselves.

Considering adventurous and casual to be alternatives to staid and stately, I'd say there are plenty of more adventurous

and casual museums that work just as well as some of the more traditional staid and stately ones without setting up a

fight. Taking it a step further, even disharmony isn't always a fighting word.

 

I've never been sure whether the Guggenheim puts me off or keeps me on my toes. I've never avoided an exhibit

because it's there and I sometimes feel like the off-kilter experience heightens my senses. If I had to pick one all-purpose

museum, it wouldn't be the Guggenheim, but I don't have to do that. I've just accepted it as the experience it is and am

glad to have lots of alternatives.

As for museums that are like airport terminals or Disneyworld entertainment centers, who am I to pour cold water on

reaching out to tourists or making art more democratic and less elitist? If a museum can be made fun enough to attract

families with young children, even if it doesn't present what I might see as the optimum viewing experience, and it

exposes people to Picasso and Hockney on whatever level, I'd say it's a net positive. Let the kids and their families be

drawn in by novelty and even, in some cases, pop-culture surroundings. They may just grow into an appreciation of some

important art that they might not otherwise avail themselves of. If I think more people will come to appreciate some

important art even through venues that I consider kitschy, commercial, or competitive, I'm actually willing to work harder to

shut those things out that annoy me when I'm viewing if it means not shutting out more people who would perceive the

more staid and stately venues as uninteresting or unstimulating to themselves. I like art to be shared and I like sharing

art. That often involves compromise and not being too set in my own ways or too focused on just my own needs.

<p>Phil, I agree about the money angle and it's one of the reasons I love the Met and Met Breuer. Museums have become really expensive here in the U.S. though, to be fair so have baseball games and you pay about as much for a movie and popcorn as you do for a museum visit. The Met and Breuer have suggested admission charges but the contribution is voluntary and I've never seen pressure put on people to pay more than what they offer, which is often less than the price of admission. Back in the 70s a deal was reached between the museum and the city to make this happen. If only it could be a model for many other museums, though I suspect it's not the only one of its kind in terms of admission policy.</p>

<p>And I also think you make an important point about being able to be critical of both art and architecture. There is, in fact, good and bad art and architecture and I've not usually hesitated to give my opinions here and elsewhere. I guess what turned me off in the opening article of this thread was a kind of generic rule imposed on museum architecture as opposed to what I would consider to be a fair critique of a particular museum or type of museum. That a museum should be staid and stately sounded more like a somewhat ill-conceived and blindly accepted rule than it did a thought-out critique. Not unlike someone who says "the best photos are ones taken with film, not cropped, and only post processed to the extent of dodging and burning." I am interested in learning through critiquing photos but those kind of rule-limitations don't do much for me and they didn't in the article about museums. The author's dismissal of much contemporary art along with his take on trends in museums just seemed an arbitrary adherence to a "strict" or "purist" point of view, which just doesn't work in a contemporary world. Again, I love more classical museums and appreciate the old standby works of art. I just don't want to limit either art or its presentation to that sort of a standard.</p>

<p>Phil, I think it is important that art is often not the spontaneous invention of artists applying or at least being conscious of a theoretical background in aesthetics and graphics but also the result of traditions engaged by craftspersons who have evolved their designs empirically. This is the experience of the builders of medieval buildings (whether small wood structures or the largest stone cathedrals) and their successors through the Renaissance that occurred beside them and the application of their building art until the 19th century.</p>

<p>This vernacular (people incited) architecture evolved beside and unaffected by the classical architecture first re-introduced and perfected by Italian mathematicians and architects and extolling the beauty of symmetrical elements and balance. The beauty of a simple 17th or 18th century rural house or shed owes to this evolution and connection to human needs, specific local materials and a great complicity with the surrounding natural environment, climatic, geographic and material.</p>

<p>The old shed is a beautiful object. During its restoration I discovered several unique joints and assemblages and a structural design that are products of this evolution of craft. Industrial materials and construction outbid these builders, introduced other possibilities, but also froze this beauty. The practical vernacular houses and buildings, product of long traditions rather than classical or early 19th century industrial design, are the art of the people.</p>

<p>Museums are hit hard in this decade and in many countries, for operating funds. Like symphony orchestras, chamber orchestras and opera, in which the 50+ population (and counting) is overwhelmingly present, extra funding is sought by enlarging the demographic base. Locally, Kent Nagamo and the Montreal Symphony feature several concerts with popular artists, such as its partnering Fred Pellerin, a wildly followed storyteller. Young conductors like the same city's Yannick Nezet-Séguin, new chef of the Metropolitan opera, have the potential advantage (like the younger James Levine in his day), to bring younger fans to the music hall. Art museums are also challenged in a similar manner, perhaps more on the question of democratizing art as in the demographics of its attendees. I agree, with Fred I think, that art shouldn't have rigid boundaries that might exclude the general population or certain exploratory trends, as its worth will in any case be determined much later and its contemporary viewers can take or leave what they view.</p>

<p>Anyways, I wouldn't say museums are the actual replacements of religious places of worship, Roman and Greek civic structures which included temples, and before that tombs (i.e. pyramids, etc.) as the highest pinnacle of culture. Today in America, its probably far more the sports stadium, followed by shopping malls more than museums that society values as its highest aspirational achievement. </p>

<p>Phil, "great" architecture is a really slippery critter to define. Some of what we consider great today was panned when originally designed and constructed (such as the Eiffel Tower). Some architecture, like other art, is deemed great almost solely on the basis of the name-brand architect (vis-a-vis Frank Gehry), rather than focusing on the character of the building itself. Louis Kahn's Parliament for Bangladesh is an example where both factors come into play. When selected to design the Parliament, Kahn was already an established master, so virtually anything he designed would have been given respectful consideration as high art, even if not to everyone's taste. That Kahn's design successfully addressed the nation's need for political identity is testimony to his rightful place as a master of his art. Even so, it is a building that would never be designed or accepted today in response to the same program. Our values, priorities, technology, styles, and aesthetic expectations have changed, and even if Kahn were alive a very different solution would certainly result. Every piece of architecture is just one take on the myriad solutions to a given design problem, influenced by the technical, social, cultural, political, aesthetic, stylistic, economic, religious, environmental, and other variables extant at the time of its design and construction. It continues to amaze me how many and drastically differing solutions there can be to a single set of design requirements.</p>

<p>This reality is representative of one way in which architecture differs from the other arts. Every architectural project responds to at least three competing criteria: 1- The functional/operational needs/requirements of the client or occupant, including aesthetic issues integral to use and image of the building, and the available budget. In this regard, every building is a delicate, 3-way balance between quality, cost, and schedule. 2- Conformance to building, life safety, zoning, and other codes in the design, layout, structure, systems, finish, and location of the building. 3- The Architect's vision for the building as art and as a product of the creative design process, reflecting the Architect's (and the Owner's) aesthetic preferences in the application of scale, volume, positive versus negative space, symmetry, materiality, color, texture, reference to precedent, application of technology, etc.</p>

<p>All of the museums and other buildings referenced in this thread are responses to these three competing sets of criteria. It must be acknowledged that the specifics of these criteria are constantly in flux, and so the design response is likewise in flux. How we evaluate works of Architecture (and other art as well), both old and new, depends both on the criteria in play at the time of their design and construction as well as the lens through which we perceive them today. Personally I find most of Kahn's work heavy, dark, and foreboding, but I acknowledge his genius as a master of design, even if his solutions are vastly different from what I, or his contemporaries, would choose to do. I would not want to live in any of Phillip Johnson's houses, but they remain fascinating exercises and explorations of his design ethic and vision.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>I would not want to live in any of Phillip Johnson's houses, but they remain fascinating exercises and explorations of his design ethic and vision.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>David, perhaps one of your three criteria (a functional space for the occupant) in that case was not well thought out, or somewhat ignored by the architect. Man should enjoy his enclosures. Without extending the thought to the works of Johnson, architecture is like art in one sense, there are examples which many might consider good and bad architecture.<br /> <br /> I visited with friends the new museum addition in Quebec city yesterday. The principal architect was Shohei Shigematsu of the firm OMA (of Rem Koolhass). The majestic white spiral staircase over three levels, the large public spaces, the glass and connection with the nature outside, and the rooftop garden impress me, like others. I wonder though if the building contains enough gallery space given its actual footprint? The galleries are nonetheless efficient and the long tunnel (of varying volumes) between buildings is well used to house the very long and surprisingly beautiful Riopelle 'Hommage to Rosa Luxembourg' painting. <br /> <br /> I have to think a bit more about this building as it evolves with its two other detached sister buildings (a converted Bastille or 19th century prison and the original neoclassical design museum) and houses different exhibitions.</p>

<p>Arthur, the famous, modernist French Architect Le Corbusier defined the home as "a machine for living." His few executed designs focused on the use of machine-made components (in lieu of the European penchant for hand-made residential materials). In response to your comment supposing that Johnson failed in regards to functionality, I would suggest that what constitutes successful functionality for me in no wise dictates what might work for others. My personal, aesthetic preferences for a home in which I would choose to live tend towards the Spanish California Colonial Revival, with tile floors, dark wood, wrought iron, tile roofs, wide eaves, textured plaster, etc. Note that I do not now nor ever expect to own such a house, as it would be inappropriate for my chosen location. Nor could I afford it. Still, it reflects my personal tastes. I also like the classic California Craftsman and/or Prairie style homes. My wife and I are tailoring our current home to reflect the Craftsman ethos to the degree feasible, and within our limited budget. In the end, any design that serves the needs and taste of the owner can be considered successful, even if not high-style. My own practice focuses on very vernacular buildings that are unlikely to grace the cover of <em>Architectural Digest</em>. Still, I have projects that have won design awards precisely through design expression of functional elements. Like your shed-cum-gallery, they succeed because they are absolutely honest, unashamedly flaunting their functional/structural components as aesthetic design elements. The highest praise one of my designs ever received was in regards its "elegant simplicity". I'll have to read up on the new museum in Quebec City.</p>

<p>David, your interest in Spanish California Colonial Revival struck a cord, also that of Craftsman type that was invented in California and perhaps similar to the arts and crafts style we occasionally see here. Our visits to Spanish missions on the west coast were much appreciated. Vernacular architecture is often ignored by our locals, just as they used to throw out painted antique pine furniture about 50 or so years ago as being passée. I personally love the old vernacular architecture of our rural area near Quebec City which like the contemporary architecture you produce is of elegant simplicity. My wife and I also adore spending a bit of time in France or England for the simple country vernacular cottages and village life.</p>

<p>The Quebec City museum was designed by OMA in NYC in partnership with Provencher Roy associates in Montreal. Some views are seen in<br /><br /><br>

http://oma.eu/projects/pierre-lassonde-pavilion<br /> <br /> <br />If you can Google Quebec City museum and Globe and Mail of June 2016 you may see an article in English describing it. I tried to transfer the link but failed.</p>

<p>The Craftsman movement started in England before the turn of the century, spread to parts of Europe, and the North Eastern United States, most notably the Roycroft Community in East Aurora, N.Y. Prefab Craftsman home kits (among other styles) were also available from Sears Roebuck & Co., delivered by rail to any station the buyer chose. A derivative and attractive version of the Craftsman Cottage did also appear in California.</p>

<p>At the risk of going off-topic (but it's Sandy's topic): Sandy is correct in regards the genesis of the Craftsman movement. The Prairie movement kicked off about the same time in the Midwest US, invented and defined by FLlW, and rapidly expanded across the country as well. The very gentle California climate had already spawned bungalow-type houses. The resulting intersection and amalgam of styles flourished in the early 20th century, with a wide variety of locales, materials, combinations, and applications of the various design ethe. (<em>Ethe</em> is the plural of ethos. I had to look it up.) One of my most enjoyable architectural experiences was an October in Pasadena, CA, where I participated in the annual Craftsman Weekend event. The level of design and execution achieved by the Greene brothers and their contemporaries is truly fascinating, and something I would hope to emulate, should the opportunity manifest.</p>

<p>I thought these two paragraphs added a bit of texture to the discussion of American Bungalows. It also relates to some of the stuff discussed earlier in the thread about architecture and class and how museums may be attempting to attract a less elite crowd.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>Libertarian socialist William Morris founded the British movement as a reaction against the Industrial Revolution's perceived devaluation of the individual worker and resulting degradation of the dignity of human labor. The movement naturally emphasized handwork over mass-production, with the problem that expensive materials and costly skilled labor restricted acquisition of Arts and Crafts productions to a wealthy clientele, often ironically derided as "champagne socialists".</p>

<p>While the British movement also reacted against the eclectic Victorian "over-decorated" aesthetic, the Arts and Crafts style's American arrival coincided with the decline of the Victorian era. The American Arts and Crafts Movement shared the British movement's reform philosophy, encouraging originality, simplicity of form, local natural materials, and the visibility of handicraft, but distinguished itself, particularly in the Craftsman Bungalow style, with a goal of ennobling modest homes for a rapidly expanding American middle class.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Interesting that the British brought to the west from Bengali the house of that style and name that was retermed bungalow. These one story houses, often with verandas, were then built in many places of the world. In Canada a bungalow is invariably of one story (excluding basement). Also, what is normally called the neoclassical house of around 1800, and locally the unique Quebec vernacular version, has a bell shaped roof, the end of which covers the veranda. A local building overlooking Montmorency Falls from the end of the 18th century was the sometime habitat of Queen Victoria's father in that period and possibly was one of the first to have that form of roof, also imported from India (although I question this as being the only influence, as some areas of central France have roofs and overhangs of somewhat similar form and from a region that supplied early immigrants (including tradespeople) to North America).</p>

<p>Architectural inspiration knows few boundaries, and this is seen in the form of museums throughout the world. The attempts in the twentieth and present centuries to welcome a greater cross section of the population to museums is reflected in the architecture trends and the multipurposing of these buildings (enhanced range of activities).</p>

<p>Arthur -- Must be a regional thing. Can't recall hearing Bungalow, except in books about India in the Raj-- must be a term used in Canada and India. Here in the USA, and when last I was in Great Britain, they were cottages. Can't speak about California as I don't go there.</p>

Speaking of off topic, but related nonetheless, I happen to be watching Orson Welles's The Magnificent Ambersons*,

featuring Ann Baxter, the eponymous villain from All About Eve and, it turns out, the granddaughter--a fact I just learned--

of Frank Lloyd Wright.

 

*A classic and stunning b/w movie, highly recommended for those who haven't seen it.

<p>Interesting -- I'm something of an FLW enthusiast. Apparently he made more as a prominent dealer in oriental art than as an architect. Either Taliesin is well worth a visit, as is Graycliff.</p>

<p>Sandy, the term describes different styles in different countries (USA, Britain, Australia, New Zealand, Canada, Ireland, and of course Bangladesh). Different low rise bungalow styles exist in the USA. The Ultimate bungalow, or California Craftsman style is a refined exterior and interior designed house using high craft and often exotic woods. Wikipedia shows some photographic descriptions of the varying styles that relate to the definition of "a low house, with a broad front porch, having either no upper floor or upper rooms set in the roof, typically with dormer windows." With an aging population and in regions where adequate land is available for their extended footprint, the one storey house devoid of levels has some attraction.</p>

<p>I don't know many such low rise structures that are also convenient for museum or gallery exhibition of photographs or art. My coach shed seasonal gallery is akin to a bungalow or cottage of one or one and a half stories and its available exhibition wall space is limited to just under one hundred linear feet despite its 32 x 30 foot footprint and two compartment interior. Perhaps the most efficient use of space for photographic or art display might be a restored and repurposed multi rise factory structure or apartment building of several floor levels. However, the current multifunctional requirements of modern museums seeking enhanced public use require much more open and airey visitor and exhibition spaces. The gallery of the Fondation Louis Vuitton at the Bois de Boulonge, Paris, designed by Canadian-American Frank Gehry, is perhaps a typical example of this requirement.</p>

<p> </p>