Humboldt Forum (also known as Stadtschloss or the Prussian Palace), Berlin.

“The longer I live, the more beautiful life becomes. If you foolishly ignore beauty, you will soon find yourself without it…But if you invest in beauty, it will remain with you all the days of your life.”

– Frank Lloyd Wright

Berlin’s City Palace.

The Berliner Stadtschloss (or Stadtschloß) in a 19th-century painting.

The city of Berlin is in the process of rebuilding one of its oldest and most distinctive buildings. Originally from the 1400s, the Stadtschloss (or Berlin City Palace) was the home to Prussia’s kings long before the modern nation of Germany was formed. Damaged during World War II, it survived into the 1950s, before the communist East German regime destroyed it. They dynamited the solid masonry building over the course of four months.

Palace of the Republic in 1977 with the Fernsehturm in the background.

In its place, they built the Palace of the Republic–a modernist civic building where the parliament met. In the 2000s, after the fall of the Berlin Wall and the reunification of East and West Germany, that building was destroyed. In 2010, the city began rebuilding the original palace from the 1400s, and construction will be completed in 2019. This new version of that historical building will remind Berlin of its history and reintroduce a beautiful and long-admired example of great civic architecture to the city.

Numerous cities across Europe were damaged by the fighting of World War II. Many examples of great architecture throughout the continent were lost. Rather than replacing that architecture and urban fabric with new buildings that are disconnected from the city’s architectural character–and in many cases not especially beautiful in their own right, we should seek to rebuild and recreate those great buildings to reignite the beauty of these places–both commemorating each city’s past and inspiring its future generations.

New Town Square by Bernardo Bellotto.

ul Miodowa by Bernardo Bellotto.

During World War II, Warsaw, Poland’s capital, was devastated by Nazi forces to punish the Polish resistance fighters. In 1944, Hitler himself ordered the city “be pacified, that is, razed to the ground.”

After this harsh campaign, local citizens removed or recovered the vast amount of debris to be used to repair the city. Rallying under the cry, “The entire nation builds its capital,” Poland used 22 street scenes painted by Bernardo Bellotto in the 1700s as the framework to recreate the city’s Old Town. By 1955, a mere decade after the end of the war, most of the city’s Old Town had been restored with the aid of Polish architects, art historians, and conservators.

Great Fire Of London Painting by Philippe-Jacques De Loutherbourg. circa 1797.

The great cities of Europe each have histories that span centuries. By the 1660s, London was by far the most populated city in Britain. It had a sprawling medieval city plan and the buildings were mainly wood. In 1666, the bakery of Thomas Farynor caught on fire and grew into the Great Fire of London. It swept through the old Roman city wall, ignited the heart of the city, and cut off any escape from the Thames riverfront. At the time, the most effective means of extinguishing a fire was demolishing buildings with fire hooks to create blockades that trapped the flames, which could then be soaked with a fire engine. However, due to London’s narrow streets, the city’s panicked residents and fleeing refugees, and a slow response by the Lord Mayor, the fire destroyed a huge portion of the city.

The City of London as John Evelyn Esq. F.R.S. proposed its rebuilding, 1666.

A sketch of St. Paul’s dome, London. Chrisopher Wren.

In the fire’s aftermath, Sir Christopher Wren was commissioned to redesign and reconstruct the city. However, his plan– influenced by the garden at Versailles–was never fully realized due to private development and a rush to finish reconstruction. St. Paul’s Cathedral was the crown jewel of Wren’s plan and was completed in his lifetime. He also replaced more than 50 destroyed parish churches throughout the city.

An aerial view of St. Paul’s Cathedral. Mark Fosh, 2008.

St. Paul’s from the southwest in 1896.

London’s urban fabric was gutted again during the Blitz–a series of Nazi air raids completed at the end of the Battle of Britain during the Second World War. Londoners, as well as residents of other British cities, endured nightly raids intended to destroy British industry and resolve and force a surrender.

The iconic St Paul’s Survives taken on 29 December 1940 of St Paul’s during the Blitz.

Although construction materials were in short supply, both London and Warsaw, rallied from the rubble after the war to repair themselves and their cities. Unlike in Warsaw, London’s fabric was not rebuilt to its pre-war state. “In Britain, the classical landscape was, by the 1950s, as shattered as some of the battlefields that Allied troops had lately been fighting over in the Second World War….[In the 1960s,] these plans were incredibly radical, sweeping away neighbourhoods irrespective of damage and replacing them with high-rise towers nobody wanted to live in,’ says Peter Larkham of the Birmingham School of the Built Environment.

The destroyed city of Dresden as seen from city hall. 1945.

A view from city hall over the cleared former city center. 1955.

The ruined city of Dresden, Germany. c. 1945.

Propaganda director Heinz Grunewald, Mayor Walter Weidauer and architect Dr. C. Herbert discuss plans for rebuilding the city. 1946.

A man makes repairs to a damaged statue. 1949.

People clear rubble in front of the ruins of the Frauenkirche. January, 1952.

Dresden, renowned for its architecture and known as “Florence on the Elbe,” also lost many of its best buildings and much of its urban fabric during World War II. The city, its rail lines, and industrial quarter were bombed extensively by American and British forces in February of 1945. Several monuments in the city center, including the Zwinger Palace; the Semperoper, the opera house; and the Frauenkirche, the city’s cathedral, were left in ruins.

Zwinger park and memorial photochrome print around 1895.

The ruins of the Zwinger after WWII, Dresden, Germany.

Zwinger, Dresden, Germany.

Designed by the court architect Matthaus Daniel Poppelmann, the Zwinger was built by Augustus II the Strong, in the Baroque style to rival the grandeur of Versailles. Completed in 1728, its buildings and grounds were used as an orangery, exhibition gallery, and festival arena for the court.

Semperoper with the Theatre Square.

The Semper Opera in Dresden during the day.

Interior of the first opera house in 1841.

The Semperoper has eclectic mix of architectural influences, and it is home to the city’s opera, orchestra, and ballet. In 1869, the building suffered a fire, and the citizens of Dresden repaired the damage in less than ten years. Its architect, Gottfried Semper, had been exiled from the city prior to the blaze, and so his son, Manfred Semper, led the reconstruction. Less than a century later, after the bombing during World War II, it took nearly forty years to rebuild the opera house.

A statue of Martin Luther lies toppled in front of the ruins of the Frauenkirche. 1945.

The ruined Frauenkirche. March 16, 1946.

Frauenkirche, Dresden, Germany; 2005 (illus. Ranier Lippert).

Frauenkirche interior, Dresden, Germany.

The Frauenkirche, another iconic classical monument of Dresden, was left a ruin by Allied bombing. Although originally Catholic, it is a supreme example of Protestant sacred architecture. As a reminder of the city’s past and a beacon for the future, its eventual reconstruction in the mid-1990s used scorched stones recovered from the original monument to commemorate its history.

“Bauakademie”, Painting by Eduard Gaertner, 1868.

Reconstructed corner and simulated canvas facade in 2005.

A key part of these reconstructions has been new technology. Strides in photogrammetry and 3D imaging technology have greatly simplified the recreation of these complex places. Karl Friedrich Schinkel’s Bauakademie in Berlin originally held an archive of approximately 20,000 glass-negatives that has been used to recreate other lost buildings. The building itself has since been demolished after being damaged significantly in the war, but local architecture students and citizens have campaigned for it to be rebuilt as a new museum of architecture.

The Stadtschloss project under construction.

The Stadtschloss project has sparked a debate about how cities and nations, and particularly Germany, grapple with their own history and rebuild after enduring the destruction of war. Those historic buildings– once beautiful and beloved for centuries–and their pre-war history are now lost. Rebuilding these classical buildings as they were–and reclaiming what was damaged or destroyed–not only reintroduces architecture that is beautiful and reflective of the past, but also helps to reestablish the connection between each of these modern cities and its own history.

Categories: About Michael

Paul Cret the Modern Classicist

gingerayala

Posted on October 12, 2018

University of Texas at Austin Tower, c. 1970s

When approaching the campus of the University of Texas at Austin, the first thing one notices is the Tower, which stands at 337 feet. It has become an iconic landmark not only for the University but for Austin itself. It is well known across the city for its familiar orange lights, displaying the outcome of a football game, or reflecting a black light in recognition of solemn news. Less well known is its architect, French-born Paul Philippe Cret, a student of the Ecole des Beaux-Arts.

Paul Cret’s Construction Document of University of Texas at Tower

Paul Cret was an established architect in Philadelphia, and he also taught at the University of Pennsylvania until his retirement. Many of his students, including Louis Kahn, would become great architects in their own right.

Kimbell Art Museum, Architect Louis Kahn

Although a longtime professor, Cret would go on to design multiple buildings throughout the United States as well as memorials in his home country of France.

Paul Cret’s work exemplifies his understanding of the Beaux-Art building type. For example, his Pan American Union Building, located in Washington, D.C., is considered to be one of the city’s most beautiful classical buildings. In collaboration with artists–including Gutzon Borglum and Isidore Konti–Cret symbolically blended North and South America designs and motifs.

Pan American Union Building

Meso-American motifs

Gutzon Borglum Statue on Front Elevation of Pan American Union Building

The building is square in plan with an interior patio. The main entry is triple-arcaded with classical details, iconographic sculpture, and ornamental bronze representing Meso-America.

Paul Cret continued to collaborate with artists when he designed the Folger Shakespeare Library with John Gregory, a New York sculptor who created the bas-reliefs of Shakespearean scenes.

Folger Shakespeare Library

Traditionally, one associates sculptural panels to be associated with the frieze in classical architecture, but Cret understood that by bringing them down to the ground level, they would be more easily seen and interpreted. The Shakespeare Library’s exterior is a combination of Beaux-Art classicism and Art-Moderne with Tudor elements on the interior. It exemplifies Cret’s understanding of classicism and his ability to marry distinct styles and influences into a unified and coherent whole.

Motif of ‘A Midsommer Nights Dreame’ by John Gregory

Interior View of Folger Shakespearean Library

In 1933, the second Chicago’s World Fair illustrated a shift in the style and culture of America. This fair was known as “A Century of Progress International Exposition”, and it was an “attempt to demonstrate to an international audience the nature and significance of scientific discoveries, the methods of achieving them, and the changes which their application has wrought in industry and in living conditions.”

Postcard of Hall of Science from the 1933 Chicago Worlds Fair

This fair was different from the World’s Columbian Exposition’s, known as the “White City,” held 40 years prior and can be distinguished by its architecture. The Great Depression devastated the American economy. In the mid-1930s, Americans were optimistic that the country was on the rise and that the future held new and brighter things—prosperity, economic growth, and change. The 1933 World’s Fair reflected that sentiment. The architecture was bold, colorful, and much more modern than the classical World’s Fair of the 1890s.

1893 Chicago Worlds Fair

The fair also came at a time when a divide was forming within the architecture community between traditionalists and modernists. Many architects believed that classical forms—like those typical of the White City—were out-dated and inappropriate for modern times. The twentieth century called for a new modern architectural language.

Texas Memorial Museum

As a classically trained architect, Cret understood the value of proportion, symmetry, and traditional architectural details. At the same time, he was a pragmatic designer, and he aimed to adapt those forms to the needs of the modern world. To achieve this, he used traditional building types ornamented with austere, stripped-down classical details.

Chateau-Thierry American Memorial

We can see this unique style in his memorial to American soldiers post World War I near Chateau-Thierry in France. It has a double colonnade of square fluted piers rising above a long terrace, podium, and steps. The central, wider bay is solid and frames a stylized American eagle on one side counter-balancing two heroic figures representing the United States and France on the other. The sculptor was French-American artist Alfred Bottiau.

Two Heroic Figures on West Facade

Paul Cret envisioned that his stripped classicism would become the typical style of government buildings in the twentieth century. Its simplified but recognizable details, massing, and scale spoke to the traditions of the past while adapting its forms for the modern world. The Eccles Federal Reserve Board Building is another example of his work in this style located in Washington, D.C. The four-story building, with an exterior of Georgian marble, is the shape of an ‘H’ in plan with courtyards to either side of the central mass.

Eccles Federal Reserve Board Building

Paul Cret’s work–spread across the east coast, Midwest, Texas, and Europe–is remarkable in its ability to adapt classical forms to the needs and demands of twentieth century life. His had a unique perspective that marries a classical understanding of design, ornament, proportion, and artistry with a wide variety of local architectural and cultural influences to create distinct buildings and spaces–each specific to its purpose and place.

Cincinnati Museum Center at Union Terminal

In America alone, ten of Cret’s buildings are on historic registers. Each of these is uniquely suited to its purpose, place, and meaning. The next time you find yourself in Austin and you see that University of Texas at Austin tower shining orange, remember Paul Philippe Cret. He designed iconic buildings and memorials, which can still be visited today, not only in Texas but across America and in Europe.

Goldsmith Hall with University of Texas at Austin Tower beyond

Categories: About Michael

The Built Image of Democracy—Part III

Alice Arnn

Posted on October 5, 2018

McMillan Plan, 1902.

This is the final installment of a three-part series on the architectural heritage of Washington, D.C. and the National Mall. Click here for Part I and Part II.

In 1893, the World’s Columbian Exposition opened in Chicago, Illinois. The product of a two-year whirlwind of design and construction, a series of enormous classical buildings rendered in white plaster lined a broad pool commemorating Columbus’ exploration of the Americas and housed countless exhibits with the world’s newest and most inventive technologies.

Chicago World’s Columbian Exhibition, 1893.

To the delight of 27 million visitors that summer, the entire complex was electrically lit every night and exhibitors presented the Ferris wheel, moving walkway, Juicy Fruit gum, Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, and other inventions for the very first time.

The first Ferris Wheel at the World’s Columbian Exposition, 1893.

Integral to the execution of this ideal city were some of America’s greatest architects and designers–Daniel Burnham, Charles McKim, and Frederick Law Olmsted. Though their masterpiece of classical architecture was meant to be temporary and stood for less than two years, it would have a far more lasting legacy. The White City captured the imagination of the entire country, and it charted the course of the City Beautiful Movement which shaped architecture and city planning in America for decades.

Chicago World’s Fair, Thomas Moran, 1894.

Just eight years after the Fair, McKim, Burnham, and Olmsted–joined by sculptor Augustus St. Gaudens–were presented with another challenge. Since the American founding and L’Enfant’s original plan for Washington, D.C., the development of its monumental core had been piecemeal and unorganized.

William T. Partridge’s drawing, “L’Enfant Plan of Washington Superimposed on the Rectangular System from which He Worked.” National Capital Park and Planning Commission, 1930.

Prepared by Brown, the plat shows existing conditions of construction on and around the Mall. This was used by all speakers at the 1900 AIA meeting point for their discussion, 1901.

Brown’s suggested plan for development of the Mall with government buildings constructed along both sides and an extension from the Washington Monument to a memorial bridge across the Potomac. The plan was prepared for the August 1895 Architectural Record and later included in the Senate document which printed the papers of the 1900 AIA Annual Meeting.

A meeting of the American Institute of Architects in 1900 highlighted the mediocrity of D.C.’s fragmented public spaces and buildings, and numerous solutions were proposed. In 1901, the Senate ordered a commission of architects and designers be formed to outline a single unified vision for planning in Washington. The Senate Parks Commission was born.

From the outset, they intended to follow the principles and intent of L’Enfant’s original plan. They began with a five-week voyage across Europe, planned by Olmsted, to see both their predecessor’s influences first-hand and the way European cities had dealt with the same challenges faced in Washington.

Plan of Versailles.

There they outlined their plan for the city’s core and agreed upon developing L’Enfant’s Grand Avenue at the center of the city into a National Mall, a wide tree-lined lawn articulated by periodic fountains and formal gardens, based on French examples in Paris and at Versailles.

McMillan Plan, 1902.

Designers working on the Senate Park Comission model already installed in the Corocran Gallery fo Art, Photo courtesy of the Library of Congress.

When they returned, the Commission developed their plan and its details and presented dramatic and comprehensive models, drawings, and plans at a formal exhibit. Though never officially adopted by Congress, the bold plan and powerful images–the talented Jules Guerin rendered much of the presentation–guided the Mall’s development throughout the twentieth century.

National Museum of Natural History, Hornblower and Marshall/Daniel Burnham and Charles McKim, 1910.

National Gallery, John Russell Pope, 1941. Rendering by Otto Eggers.

Smithsonian Museum of American History, McKim, Meade, and White, 1964.

First among their proposed additions were monumental Beaux-Artes museums built of limestone to line the grassy, open Mall and contrast with the whimsical brickwork of the existing Smithsonian buildings. Over the course of the next fifty years, some of America’s best architects would contribute buildings to house the Smithsonian’s collections.

Proposal for the Lincoln Memorial, National Mall, Henry Bacon, watercolor by Jules Guerin, 1911-12.

Lincoln Memorial under Construction, Henry Bacon, c. 1920.

A monument to Lincoln, with post-and-lintel construction intended as a foil to the vertical proportions of the Capitol dome, was built in 1912 to anchor the west side of the Mall and connect Arlington National Cemetery and Confederate General Robert E. Lee’s former home to the federal city. The competition between Henry Bacon, who eventually won the commission, and John Russell Pope would produce incredible drawings–by the aforementioned Guerin and Pope’s partner Otto Eggers–that were a testament to the ambition and boldness of the architects and of the time.

Proposal for the Lincoln Memorial, National Mall, John Russell Pope, 1911-1912.

Proposal for the Lincoln Memorial, National Mall, Henry Bacon, watercolor by Jules Guerin, 1911-12.

Parts of the McMillan plan, however, were ruled too ambitious–or too expensive–particularly during and after the Great Depression began in 1928.

William T. Partridge viewing model of Monument Gardens, ca. 1932. Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division.

Terracing and gardens at the existing Washington Monument were proposed to complete the original plan and to formalize the axes between the Capitol, White House, and monuments. This garden would then connect to a series of public recreation buildings, parks, and pools to the south (now the site of the Tidal Basin and Jefferson Memorial).

In the late 19th century the Potomac and its marshes lapped at the base of the Washington Monument. In 1900 the architects suggested extending the Mall from the Monument to the Potomac, work which became a part of the Senate Park Commission’s 1901 plan. Dredging and fill of wetlands shown here provided the land where the Park Commission’s Reflecting Pool and Lincoln Memorial would later be located. Photograph taken in 1885, soon after the Washington Monument was completed.

However, the plan was quickly ruled impossible due to the unstable and swampy ground on which the obelisk was originally built. Any significant new building would compromise its foundations. The recreation area and lagoons to the south at the Tidal Basin were also discarded because of expense. Franklin Delano Roosevelt would eventually propose a monument to Jefferson on the site, and he would be instrumental in the eventual construction of John Russell Pope’s design for the rotunda.

Proposal for the Jefferson Memorial, John Russell Pope, watercolor by Otto Eggers, 1943.

Federal Triangle in the early 1900s before the Archives were built, c. 1930.

Federal Triangle (as built).

Finally, a critical area northwest of the Capitol Building was developed into the Federal Triangle, a group of monumental office buildings, an ornate auditorium, and the Archives Building that would enshrine exhibits on the “Charters of Freedom”–the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights.

Three Proposals for the National Archives, 1930.

The National Archives.

That building, designed by John Russell Pope, was the development’s centerpiece and built on the site of Center Market, the city’s former transportation and commercial center. Pope wrapped a massive and impenetrable structure reminiscent of a bank vault in classical colonnades and pediments.

Proposal for the Mall, Robert Mills, 1841.

The plan of the Senate Parks Commission was one of America’s largest planning initiatives, and it made the city, once characterized by a few iconic buildings–the White House, the Capitol Building, the Smithsonian Castle, and others–linked together by lackluster parks and disjointed public spaces into a cohesive and monumental whole to rival the great capitals of Europe.

Plan of the National Mall, 1928.

That document still guides the development of the city today. It is remarkable to think that, although they look as if they’ve stood for centuries, many of its most iconic buildings–the memorials to Lincoln and Jefferson, the National Archives, and the vast facades of Federal Triangle–and the National Mall itself are, in fact, modern–just over 100 years old.

Categories: About Michael

The Built Image of Democracy – Part II

Alice Arnn

Posted on September 28, 2018

The Mall Looking toward the Washington Monument, c. 1863. Library of Congress. Photo taken from Worthy of the Nation.

…continued from Part I on the L’Enfant Plan and the founding of Washington, D.C. Click here for Part III.

During the Civil War, Washington became “an armed camp; later, a vast hospital.” As a symbol of national unity as much as a functioning city, Washington was an important stronghold, and new armories, barracks, and stables were created quickly and in unlikely places. Troops were quartered in the Capitol, the Treasury Building, at historic Georgetown, and on the open green where the Mall would be built.

The U.S. Capitol, 1846.

Despite this time of trial in the nation’s history, work on a new dome for the Capitol Building proceeded. The original copper-clad dome was completed in 1822, but expansions to the north and south wings of the building to accommodate the growing Congress had thrown off the proportions of the building. A new dome was called for in the 1850s.

A section through the new cast-iron dome as designed by Thomas Walter, 1859.

East Front of the Capitol, 1860. Photo courtesy of The Atlantic.

The dome under construction during Lincoln’s First Inaugural Address, 1861. Photo courtesy of The Atlantic.

The East front of the Capitol and the new dome in 1863. Photo courtesy of The Atlantic.

The replacement dome was double-layered, designed by Thomas Walter, and modeled after those at St. Peter’s in Rome, St. Paul’s in London, and the Pantheon in Paris. Cast iron was the chosen material for the vertical proportions, height, and fire resistance it would allow. Construction would take 11 years.

Workers hauling a column to the Capitol dome construction site, November 1856. Photo courtesy of The Atlantic.

A column to recognize Abraham Lincoln is raised into place, November 1860.

Just after the Civil War ended, the new dome was completed and crowned with the Statue of Freedom, a 19-½’ tall bronze statue of a classical female figure with sword, shield, and laurel wreath by Thomas Crawford.

Architect of the Capitol employees atop the Capitol dome while restoring the Statue of Freedom, 1913.

The Capitol dome project was meant as a symbol of the strength and unity of the federal government during the war, and its completion ushered in an era of growth for the city itself. The newly united nation considered moving its capital to a wealthier or more central city like Philadelphia or St. Louis. Washington, still the center of diplomacy for the country, had to prove itself a modern city through infrastructural, civic, and commercial upgrades.

The west front of the Capitol dome under construction in 1861 with the old Washington City Canal in the foreground.

The old canal system, once full of potential, had effectively become a sewer during the war years, and it was almost completely filled in in the decades after.

The Capitol dome under construction with Pennsylvania Avenue in the foreground, c. 1858.

The National Mall laid out to the Capitol’s west in the nineteenth century was remarkably different than the Mall we know today. Pennsylvania Avenue, lined by Robert Mills’ stone federal buildings, served as the ceremonial symbolic federal center. L’Enfant’s Grand Avenue was much more humble.

The Grounds of the Washington Monument Served as a Cattle Yard during the Civil War. Library of Congress. Photo taken from Worthy of the Nation.

Capped by the Washington Monument to the west, it was a lush green area of swamps and hills that was used as pasture and farmland through the Civil War. New proposals—including a proposal from Frederick Law Olmsted who had redesigned the grounds of the Capitol complex–for the large public green were typical of the late 1800s in their design with winding paths, forested areas, picturesque views. However, this reorganization would not be fully achieved until the early 1900s.

Andrew Jackson Downing’s Proposed Plan for Laying Out the Mall, 1851.National Archives. Photo taken from Worthy of the Nation.

Frederick Law Olmsted’s design for the Capitol grounds, 1875.

View of the Mall from the US Capitol, ca. 1885. DC Public Library, Washingtonian Division, DC Community Archives. Photo taken from Worthy of the Nation.

As the city worked to establish a more formal and symbolic core at its center, the area became the city’s cultural center. L’Enfant had intended for it to be lined with grand residences for foreign ambassadors, but it instead became the home of the city’s national museums.

Smithsonian Castle, James Renwick. c. 1849.

The first major, non-governmental building built was the newly-founded Smithsonian Institution, now called the Smithsonian Castle. The design also included provisions for a vast picturesque series of parks to replace the unorganized and swampy existing green area.

Washington, DC, in April of 1865. A bird’s-eye view of the Smithsonian Institution building in the near distance with the Capitol building in the background.

Designed by James Renwick and finished in 1842, its Norman-style turrets, towers, and decorative brickwork set on the south side of the Mall established the precedent for maintaining the open axis between the Capitol and the Washington Monument.

Early Lithograph of the Smithsonian Castle on the Mall. Robert Dale Owens, Hints on the Public Architecture, 1849. Photo taken from Worthy of the Nation.

Much of the architecture built in the late 1800s was also brick and contrasted dramatically with Mills’ limestone facades on Pennsylvania Avenue in design and scale. These buildings spoke to D.C.’s local–rather than federal–character.

Center Market. c. 1872.

First among these were a series of market buildings. Originally conceived by L’Enfant, they were critical to the city’s economic and commercial growth. Center Market, at the time the largest market hall in the country, was designed by German-born architect Adolf Cluss and made the area northwest of the Capitol Building the city’s retail center. Though it functioned in that building from 1872 until 1931 when it was demolished, Cluss’ design was predated by a market begun under Washington and visited by Jefferson.

Northern Liberty Market. c. 1875.

Eastern Market, Adolf Cluss. c. 1871.

Nearby, Northern Liberty Market, designed by James H. McGill, provided an additional market and a convention hall until its destruction in 1985. Eastern Market, located southeast of the Capitol, was Cluss’ second market in the city. Built in 1873, it is still open today and has been continuously functioning since 1805.

The National Museum, now the Smithsonian Arts and Industries Museum, Adolf Cluss. c. 1881.

Working in the same brick as the Smithsonian Castle and the market buildings, Cluss also provided the design for the city’s first major National Museum and new modern public schools.

The Arts and Industries and the Victorian Era gardens surrounding it. c. 1881.

A display by Joseph Palmer in the U.S. National Museum, 1875.

The National Museum, now the Arts and Industries Museum, is rendered in polychromatic brick, and speaks to the whimsical and exuberant Castle just to the west.

The Wallach School by Adolf Cluss, which was located near Eastern Market, another of Cluss’ designs, building until its demolition in 1949.

The Franklin School, Adolf Cluss. c. 1869.

The public schools, placed in burgeoning neighborhoods throughout the city, symbolized the city’s focus on education and public works. The Wallach School (since demolished), Sumner School (now housing the museum and records for the DC public school system), and Franklin School (soon to become a new museum of linguistics) were a major modernization effort, and Cluss used the latest technology in construction, safety, and climate control to great public approval.

Aerial View of the National Mall Looking West from the Capitol Building, c. 1885.

The second half of the nineteenth century saw DC evolve into a national capital economically and symbolically at the center of a unified and vast nation. With improved infrastructure and new public buildings, it was no longer a small town dotted with monumental federal buildings, but a bustling and modern city with a distinct architectural character of its own. But that city and that character which had developed after the Civil War would be transformed again by the influence of the 1893 World’s Columbian Exhibition in Chicago and the City Beautiful Movement.

To be continued…in Part III.

Categories: About Michael

The Built Image of Democracy – Part I

Alice Arnn

Posted on September 21, 2018

City of Washington from Beyond the Navy Yard, George Cooke, 1833.

This is the first installment of a three-part series on the architectural heritage of Washington, D.C. and the National Mall. Click here for Part II and Part III.

“A great city is nothing more than a portrait of itself, and yet when all is said and done, its arsenals of scenes and images are part of a deeply moving plan.” – Mark Helprin, Winter’s Tale

In 1790–just three years after the Constitution became law, a swampy 10-mile-square plot along the Potomac River and north of Alexandria, Virginia, became the nation’s new capital. Congress had considered many sites for the future city, including Philadelphia, the city where the Constitutional Congress was held, and a site near Princeton, New Jersey.

Map Showing Alexandria to the South, Washington, D.C., and Georgetown to the North, President George Washington’s home at Mount Vernon and Alexandria are just to the city’s south; the small town of Georgetown was just to its northwest; and it is situated between Maryland and Virginia. It provided easy access to the Atlantic and to the unexplored West by way of the Potomac and Ohio Rivers.

The choice of a place so connected to George Washington, so well-placed between the northern and southern states, and so connected to trade routes and the West was no accident. The city serves as a symbol of unity among the thirteen states that made up the young nation, of compromise between northern and southern states, and of the new nation’s potential for growth economically and west across the continent.

Federal Hall, New York City,

Pierre Charles L’Enfant was a Frenchman and the architect of the much-admired Federal Hall in New York City. An immigrant, he had fought in the Revolutionary War, and had been commissioned to paint General Washington’s portrait before being captured, released, and appointed to Washington’s staff.

Plan of the city intended for the permanent seat of the government of the United States, Pierre Charles L’Enfant, 1791.

L’Enfant’s plan was ambitious from the beginning. Where others, including Thomas Jefferson, imagined a scheme more typical of other colonial towns, L’Enfant saw a grand and vast city and drew on European models to use the natural topography to place monumental buildings prominently on the highest ground.

Plan of L’Enfant Topography.

Unlike in a European town, however, he placed the Capitol Building, housing Congress and symbolizing the sovereignty of the people, in the highest and most important position instead of the palace of the king. Wide, diagonal streets, would at once represent the connections between these important buildings–the president’s house, the Capitol, and others–and provide faster routes between key places.

John Evelyn’s Plan for London after the Great Fire in 1666.

Influenced by a proposal by John Evelyn for London to rebuild after the Great Fire in 1666, L’Enfant blended the block system of a Georgian town in Britain with wide avenues like those often seen in France, in Paris or at Versailles. These long avenues cut through the grid of smaller scale gridded streets to connect major buildings and establish symbolic connections within the city’s plan.

Plan of Versailles.

With the support of Washington, L’Enfant was asked to develop the plan further and produce more refined drawings. However, insistent on perfecting his original plan and realizing it in full with little regard for time, he came into conflict with several officials involved who wanted to prioritize the speedy construction of the key federal buildings. He resigned from the project in 1792.

To maintain momentum, Andrew Ellicott was hired to recreate L’Enfant’s work and develop a practical system by which the street system could be created and the actual lots of land could be bought and sold. Though based on L’Enfant’s original work, Ellicott’s plan makes several departures from L’Enfant’s, and because his work was cut short, L’Enfant’s intentions for specific areas like the White House, the Capitol complex, and the public squares were never realized.

Concept Drawing of L’Enfant’s Vision for the City’s Canals, Elbert Peets.

One of L’Enfant’s now forgotten contributions was the city’s canal system. Though now mostly filled in except for a small section in Georgetown, the canals connected the new federal city and Georgetown to nearby Alexandria and Harper’s Ferry to enable easy trade between them and provide water power and transportation to each city.

In the city itself, they ran directly across L’Enfant’s Grand Avenue–now the National Mall–from the Anacostia River, alongside the Capital’s west front, to Georgetown. Though originally envisioned to bolster Washington economically, the canals never reached their full potential and were obsolete before the end of the 1800s.

Panoramic View of Washington, D.C., Looking West from the Capitol, 1856.

Map Showing the Route of the Canal System in front of Jenkins Hill, alongside Constitution Avenue to Georgetown.

L’Enfant and Ellicott’s maps look remarkably like the city we know today, but many of the most recognizable parts of the city–the National Mall and the Beaux Artes inspired museums and memorials were not built until the first half of the 20th century. In the city’s early decades, the monumental scale of the city’s first federal buildings were isolated incidents of restrained grandeur amid vast areas of pasture land and brick facades.

But that’s not to say that the city remained a small town until 1900. In fact, what was built along the city’s new street system helped develop distinct character for America’s federal buildings. First among these major projects to be built were the President’s House and the Capitol building.

View of the President’s House, William Strickland, 1814.

Washington selected James Hoban’s design for the presidential mansion, and the ornamental design, strongly influenced by buildings in his native Ireland, was completed by 1800 and then destroyed by the British soon after in 1814. The replacement, designed by Benjamin Latrobe and overseen by Hoban, added the porticos that can be seen today. The white plaster wash used to cover the stone’s dull grey gave it the moniker “The White House.”

Design for the U.S. Capitol, William Thornton.

Design for the U.S. Capitol, Benjamin Latrobe.

The Capitol was built over the course of the first two decades of the 1800s. Though the initial design was submitted by William Thornton, construction of the initial south wing was supervised primarily by Benjamin Latrobe, who had become the surveyor of the nation’s public buildings and gained the support of Thomas Jefferson. Though not the original designer, he had significant sway over the design.

Design Proposed for the Hall of Representatives, Section from North to South,” Benjamin Henry Latrobe, 1815.

“Plan of the Principal Story of the Capitol,” Benjamin Henry Latrobe, 1806. Library of Congress.

The U.S. Capitol after the Burning of Washington, D.C. in the War of 1812, George Munger, 1814.

Latrobe oversaw the north wing’s construction, introduced his own designs, and connected the two with a temporary central structure. After the British burned the building during the War of 1812, Latrobe supervised its rebuilding. That work was then completed by Charles Bulfinch who was the designer of the building’s pre-Civil War dome.

Corn Cob Capital by Benjamin Latrobe, U.S. Capitol Building.

Daguerrotype of the U.S. Capitol by John Plumbe, c. 1846. Library of Congress.

Next to influence monumental Washington was Robert Mills, a South Carolinian who designed the Greek Revival Treasury Building next to the White House and subsequently a chain of distinguished public buildings along Pennsylvania Avenue between the White House and the Capitol.

Sketch of the Washington Monumnet as Designed by Robert Mills, mid-1800s.

Arguably his most important contribution was the iconic Washington monument begun in 1848 amid the agricultural fields of the National Mall. In as early as 1783, the Continental Congress had agreed to create a monument dedicated to Washington and his efforts to aid the recently founded country. By 1833, the Washington National Monument Society was founded and a design by Robert Mills, the newly chosen Architect of Public Buildings for Washington, was chosen in 1845. However, a variety of financial, political, and construction issues delayed the monument’s completion until 1888.

Bird’s Eye View of the City of Washington from the Potomac Looking North.

By the 1850s, the new capitol had endured major trials and also benefited from upgrades and growth. Once dwarfed by nearby Alexandria and Georgetown, it had grown into a mature city guided by L’Enfant’s plan with monumental government buildings and significant infrastructure. Despite the trials of the Civil War in the 1860s, the second half the 19^th century would see a similar trajectory as Washington, D.C., developed a distinct character that was at once federal and local.

To be continued…in Part II.

Categories: About Michael

A Bridge to the Past

Robert Dinkins

Posted on September 14, 2018

A postcard shows buggies in use in 1890 along Commerce Street in downtown San Antonio. Photo: Courtesy Texas Transportation Museum.

“We have no city except perhaps New Orleans that can vie, in point of the picturesque interest that attaches to odd and antiquated foreigness, with San Antonio.” – Frederick Law Olmsted’s First Hand Account of San Antonio, 1856

The Alamo.

La Antorcha de la Amistad, “The Torch of Friendship.”

Recently I took a friend from out of town to visit several landmarks throughout the city of San Antonio. When friends come to town, they always ask to see the Riverwalk, and because it conveniently connects other San Antonio highlights, we also make stops at the Alamo; La Antorcha de la Amistad, “The Torch of Friendship”; and the Tower of the Americas. As we walk the city’s streets, we feel its vitality around us. In the early evening air, downtown is alive with the buzz of Tejano music, the aroma of the local restaurants, and the energy of its denizens.

Commerce St. bridge. View looking west from Alamo St. The iron bridge was installed in 1880.

We casually wind our way through the streets alongside the river, stopping only for my friend to tie his shoe on Commerce Street Bridge. I have toured San Antonio with friends and family time and time again, but it’s details struck me in a new way this last time. Its pillars and the roadway they support triumphantly emerge from the river to bear the burden of new and old travelers alike–like the weight of the world on Atlas’ shoulders in a minor way.

Sketch, conjectural view of the Alamo in Ruins (circa 1845) by John A. Beckmann in 1895.

Church of San Fernando.

Intrigued, I began to research its history. Constructed over the river near La Villita in 1739, the crude bridge had six major beams and connects Mission San Antonio Valero to the east and San Fernando de Bexar to the west. Although meant to unite the community and the missions, the bridge was the cause of much contention between the local priests and soldiers stationed on the other side of the river who would harass women as they traveled along the road. Eventually, after several disagreements between the clergy and the military, the bridge became an established crossing for the city.

Mayor Juan Seguin, 1841.

Around 100 years later in 1841, Mayor Juan Seguin implored the city council to raise a tax to improve San Antonio’s infrastructure after hearing several reports of the bridge’s collapse on more than one occasion. In some instances, people had even fallen through. The council approved the tax and enlisted R. T. Higgenbotham to design a more structurally sound beamed bridge to replace the original and fairly crude crossing point. But the new bridge and others in the city were still prone to flooding, and the local population was forced to continue to maintain the old and new bridges alike. By 1873, there were a total of ten bridges throughout the city, crossing the San Antonio River and San Pedro Creek, that all required yearly maintenance and were at risk of being swept away quite easily.

Frederick Law Olmsted was the leading landscape architect of the second half of the 19th century.

Portrait of Frederick Law Olmsted, 1893.

After Texas became a state, the city of San Antonio rose in popularity and attracted the interest of landscape architect Frederick Law Olmsted in 1858. Olmsted admired the ingenuity of the Commerce Street Bridge and the water’s naturally vibrant blue. He wrote: “The effect (of the water) is overpowering. It is beyond your possible conceptions of a spring. You cannot believe your eyes, and almost shrink from sudden metamorphosis by invaded nymphdon.” And “the temperature of the river is of just that agreeable elevation that makes you loth [sic] to leave a bath, and the color is the ideal blue. Few cities have such a luxury.”

Commerce Street, 1850.

Over time the bridge again fell into disrepair, and a child was tragically killed after falling through its beams and drowning in the river. The incident captivated poets, writers, and the public alike. The written works created in memory of the child gave rise to an apt nickname for the bridge: “Literary Bridge.”

William Sydney Porter, better known as O. Henry, an American short story writer depicted in his 30’s.

The cover concealing O. Henry’s, A fog in Santone. Henry,

Later on, the bridge would be renamed again after the writer O. Henry wrote several short stories about it. In his work, A Fog in Santone, an invasive fog penetrates the city leaving three thousand people with various terminal illnesses. As the story begins, the sickly protagonist leaves a shop after purchasing morphine pills and quickly wades through a dense fog onto the iron Commerce Street Bridge. While crossing, he is overtaken by a fit of coughing which O. Henry describes as it echoes through the bridge’s structure:

The ‘Literary Bridge’ in San Antonio, later named after O. Henry, gives us an insight into how the iron version of Commerce Street had been.

Photos by Gerald E. McLeod.

“The purchaser of the morphia wanders into the fog, and at length, finds himself upon a little iron bridge, one of the score or more in the heart of the city, under which the small tortuous river flows. He leans on the rail and gasps, for here the mist has concentrated, lying like a foot-pad to garrote such of the Three Thousand as creep that way. The iron bridge guys rattle to the strain of his cough, a mocking pthisical [sic] rattle, seeming to say to him: ‘Clickety-clack! Just a little rusty cold sir—but not from our river. Litmus paper all along the banks and nothing but ozone. Clacket-y-clack!”

The Brackenridge Park Bridge was built in 1890 by the Berlin Iron Bridge Co. of East Berlin, Conn. It’s one of several historic iron bridges still being used in San Antonio. Photo: Billy Calzada /San Antonio Express-News.

The Arsenal Street Bridge is in the King William area over the San Antonio River. Photo: Billy Calzada /San Antonio Express-News.

The bridge as we know it today was updated in 1915 and includes concrete railings, piers, and spandrels with rich naturalistic ornamentation. The friend who visited led to my discovery of the lore surrounding the Commerce Street Bridge, and others throughout the city, and my fondness for it. Though happy to know its story and many charming details now, I’m not quite sure how I missed them in the first place.

The Commerce Street Bridge over the River Walk in downtown San Antonio. Photo by Mike Patterson.

Categories: About Michael

Rondeval Rendezvous

Michael Imber

Posted on August 31, 2018

William Cahill, a master thatcher adjusts and trims the reeds he’s placed to roof the rondeval.

On most hot dusty days you can find William Cahill standing in the background waiting for the builder, architects and owner to finish their meeting. He is anxious to speak about his portion of the project. His lyrical Irish accent is out of place in the South Texas heat, but soothing as he launches into a discussion about his art- thatching. He’s in no hurry and has a lot to say.

The bundles are layered every seven to fifteen inches and held in place by large metallic rings to counterbalance the other layers.

Reeds that break or naturally fall inside the rondeval are trimmed.

William hails from a small town where he used to dream about the old Irish farm houses with thatched roofs while riding his bike as a kid. This interest eventually led him to a trade program where he would learn the craft under a “Master Thatcher.”

An exterior shot of the rondeval during the thatching process.

The project, a large ranch headquarters in South Texas has been underway now for three years. For the last year, William has been at almost every meeting. Although his portion of the project is a small African style hut; what we call the “Rodeval”, set on the edge of the compound, William has traveled from Ohio to be here consistently to coordinate with other craftsmen.

Melvin (left) and Mark (right) discuss the placement of future structural timber.

Melvin has grown up in the valley, his great grandparents forging out a living in hostile Indian territory. His job is to collect native timber from the ranch to frame components of the rondeval. Mark, grew up in a family of wood workers. He still cherishes the set of handmade chisels passed down from his grandfather. He will select Melvin’s finds for the material to frame the Rondeval’s structure.

The trio share a discussion concerning the thatching processing.

The men have grown close over the year, having coffee and pie at the local café, exploring the ranch for material and planning their roles to create a unique structure. They have spent months at the ranch, not because they are getting paid much for their efforts, but because this is their passion. This is what they live for.

Melvin walking the grounds to identify potential cedar trees to be used as timber.

Designated trees are trimmed and treated to become a part of the rondeval.

The men drink up discussions with the architect like fine whiskey, savoring the nuances of the vision. Melvin will spend long hours in the thorny brush seeking the ancient cedar that will have just the right character for a beam or a column; seeing what others can’t see within the form of a twisted tree most consider a nuisance to be rid of.

The craftsmen discussing how their teamwork has led to a magnificent entrance for the structure.

Mark will cull and select Melvin’s material for perfect fit and form. He will meet with the architect, working through mock-ups and twisting and turning heavy columns for just the right configuration of twisted limbs to support the rustic curvature of the roof, and spend days marrying misshapen members into a uniform structure.

William adjusting the piles of reeds as they dry.

Finally, after storing his bundles of reed collected from a distant marsh and harvested “at just the right time as to not harm the plant”, William is prepared to begin thatching the roof, He waxes and wanes about the world-wide use of thatching and the sustainability of thatched roofs and their natural thermal qualities. He can spend hours talking, never loosing his enthusiasm for the subject.

More than fifteen bundles will be placed in each teepee formation to drain excess moisture in the Texas heat.

William uses the 5-foot long reeds in bundles, placing each batch in place, and gently coaxing the edges into place. Bundles will then be layered into a 16” thick roof wired in place. The reeds natural silicon will shed water and the hollow core of each reed will offer excellent thermal properties, lowering the temperature within the structure naturally by 15 degrees in the summer and retaining heat in the winter. It will last at least 20 years before needing to be refreshed.

A proud Cahill taking the time to be admired for his craftsmanship.

When finished, the structure will provide a cool vantage point for viewing the Ranch’s many African exotics as they roam the prairie below. William will proudly leave part of his soul with the simple building, and will follow the Irish thatcher’s tradition of hiding a whiskey bottle within its reeds for the next thatcher.

Categories: About Michael

The blog of Michael G Imber Architects

Reconstructing Beauty

Robert Dinkins

Posted on October 19, 2018

Paul Cret the Modern Classicist

gingerayala

Posted on October 12, 2018

The Built Image of Democracy—Part III

Alice Arnn

Posted on October 5, 2018

The Built Image of Democracy – Part II

Alice Arnn

Posted on September 28, 2018

The Built Image of Democracy – Part I

Alice Arnn

Posted on September 21, 2018

A Bridge to the Past

Robert Dinkins

Posted on September 14, 2018

Rondeval Rendezvous

Michael Imber

Posted on August 31, 2018