New Noguchi-Kenmochi book

This book arrived today and I've been devouring it. I first saw it over Easter weekend when visiting the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City. In particular, I wanted to spend time in the Noguchi Sculpture Court.

I knew about the Noguchi-Kenmochi exhibition at the The Noguchi Museum, but didn't know about this book and catalogue.  I'm thrilled to see new photographs, drawings, writings, designs from Noguchi's skilled hand and to learn of Isamu Kenmochi's work in Japan.

Usonian Lecture, Thu 3 Apr 08 @ SLAM

staind
Originally uploaded by Remiss63

The Frank Lloyd Wright House in Ebsworth Park is sponsoring a lecture about "The Houses of Frank Lloyd Wright".

This will be held at the St. Louis Art Museum at 7 p.m. on Thursday, April 3 by Robert McCarter, architect, author, architectural historian, scholar and recently appointed professor at the architecture school of Washington University.

Robert McCarter will talk about the Usonian Houses of which has included the Kraus House in Kirkwood where it has been restored as a house museum as well as Wright's Prairie and Concrete Block Houses.

The lecture is FREE and open to the public!

For more information, please contact Joanne Kohn, Chairman of the Board, at 314-822-8359 or info@ebsworthpark.org

Classic Mod Daylight for Sale

Daylight Research Residence
Originally uploaded by Remiss63

This Armstrong designed home in Ann Arbor, Michigan is on the market, listed for $750,000.

Check listing here.

You can view a series of photographs, drawings, and text describing the house here.

1937 Armstrong home for sale

Harris Armstrong -- Green Residence, 1937
Originally uploaded by Remiss63

Asking price $60,000.

1937 Armstrong Designed Home for Sale

Sink with integral faucet.
Uploaded by Andrew Raimist.

In response to the question, "Why is there a Harris Armstrong modern house way out in Moberly?" I've written the following:

I suspect the "story" behind this house is rather interesting indeed. The house is unusual for many reasons: it's design, it's client, it's location, and the fact that Armstrong did not seem to have taken any pictures nor published any articles about it.

In being an International Style / Art Deco / Art Moderne influenced design made a great deal of sense in relation to Armstrong's having won a Silver Medal from the French Government for the Shanley Building (Clayton, 1935) at the Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes (International Exposition of Modern Industrial and Decorative Arts) that year (i.e., 1937). Armstrong designed very few houses in this mode: using white stucco, flat roof, cantilever, and other European modernist attributes. The closest examples would be two cubic white painted brick homes: the Cori Residence in Glendale of 1935 and the Deffaa Residence in South Saint Louis of 1937.

The design is striking in its strong emphasis on the garage as the house's most striking visual element. In the 1930s, the design of garages on homes typically involved hiding the car altogether or creating garages that appeared to be carriage houses. Armstrong's love of long classic cars (see photo of Armstrong with his Rolls Royce) is reflected in the design although I don't know what sort of car the house's client owned. Armstrong's rendering for the Shanley Building published in 1935 features just such a car.

The client for the house was apparently a husband and wife with the family name Green. Armstrong's drawings for the house do not indicate the client's name nor the house's address. The set of construction documents is simply titled "A House to be Built in Moberly, Missouri." Why the name and location of the house were kept "secret" is a mystery.

Some possible explanations (purely speculative) for Armstrong's apparent lack of acknowledgment and promotion of the project include:

1. A stipulation that the location and owner's name be kept anonymous.
2. A disagreement between Armstrong and the owner's during the course of the construction.
3. Armstrong may have been dissatisfied with the result.

Regardless the reason for the house's anonymity, Armstrong was careful to save the drawings and specifications for the project in his office files following his retirement from active practice in 1967 (some thirty years later). The perspective sketch of the house is taken from the title page of the specifications for its construction.

Some anecdotal, unsubstantiated stories from a recent owner of the house suggest the idea for an overtly modernist house in a rural town in mid-Missouri was the wife's idea. It seems Mr. Green was reasonably successful financially. He may have married someone from a more "cultured" urban part of the country. Apparently she was either trained as an interior designer or was fascinated with the Art Deco mode of interior design that was then viewed as being up-to-date and cosmopolitan.

After having made a substantial investment in the design and construction of the house, it seems the Greens didn't remain there for more than a year or two. Whether this was due to business opportunities, financial difficulties, personal issues, or other problems is not known.

Although Armstrong designed works throughout the Midwest and by the end of his career, throughout the United States, the Moberly house seems unusual in being located in a largely rural town far removed from Missouri's major metropolitan centers (Saint Louis and Kansas City). While Moberly is today within commuting distance of Columbia (where the University of Missouri is located), I'm not sure the roads of the 1930s in that area would have allowed for that kind of regular automobile transportation.

The house stands out dramatically contrasting the other homes and buildings in Moberly. Facing onto a substantial farm, the horizontal line of the garage and its cantilevered roof seem to relate the house to it's site in relatively flat, plains landscape. A railroad track cuts diagonally across the area, bringing a note of modernity and industry to this generally rural area. Some local residents have suggested the unusual house was known as the "Boat House" for many years, probably due to certain details that suggest a steamship such as pipe railings and an external spiral stair.

Armstrong was adept at documenting, photographing, and publicizing his work. Especially during the 1930s during the Depression, he was constantly looking to find clients sympathetic to modernist design. Making a living designing modern buildings in the generally conservative atmosphere of Saint Louis at the time was practically impossible without other means of support. Armstrong's wife Louise sold real estate and took on other jobs to help keep their small family fed and housed.

So why this project was simply known as "House to be Built in Moberly, Missouri" without photographs or other documentation remains a mystery. Perhaps evidence of the Green family, their business, and activities in the area are known to some area residents or recorded in a library or historical society.

I'm looking forward to the house being purchased by a sympathetic owner who might uncover more of the house's secrets and bring it back to a state allowing for its proper appreciation and enjoyment."


Photograph by Andrew Raimist, April 2007.

1937 Armstrong House for Sale

1937 Armstrong designed home.
Uploaded by Andrew Raimist.

project: Green Residence.
location: Moberly, Missouri.
architect: Harris Armstrong, FAIA.
date: 1937.

The house definitely needs some TLC, but the essence of the original Art Deco / Moderne house is intact.

Following is information describing the house and its context based on the owner's description.

• price: $65,000.

• bedrooms: three bedrooms.

• area: approximately 1600 square feet.

• heating and cooling: original gas furnace and a 20 year old air conditioner.

• other rooms: living room, kitchen, utility room, breakfast nook, library/dining room.

• flooring: original wood floors at the stair, upstairs hallway and "master" bedroom; the original wood floors may be hidden by carpet in the other two bedrooms; living room and dining room are also covered with carpet and may have the original hardwood floors beneath; the original rubber floor in the entry way is hidden beneath linoleum; bathroom floor may also feature original rubber floor covered by linoleum.

• bathrooms: one bathroom with "split design"; shower & tub with sink in one room and toilet with sink in the adjacent room.

• two floors: yes.

• basement: no basement; there is a crawlspace about 2 feet deep with an access door.

• lot size: about 2/3 acre.

• location: quiet street, with a very large farmer's field under cultivation directly across the street; most neighbors are retired or older working adults; no small children in the immediate area; safe, friendly environment.

• reason for sale: owner is moving out of state; owner is interested to sell to someone interested in preserving and enhancing the house.

You can view a series of images of the house I've posted to my Flickr photostream here.

You can find Armstrong's original perspective sketch of the house here.


Photograph by Andrew Raimist, April 2007.

1937 Harris Armstrong House for Sale

1937 Armstrong designed home.
Uploaded by Andrew Raimist.

This house is available for sale to someone interested in a 1930s modernist home near Columbia, Missouri. The house has many of its original fixtures and moldings.


Drawing courtesy of the Harris Armstrong Archives, Special Collections, Washington University in Saint Louis.

How NOT to Redevelop the City

In response to a posting on the Brick City blog (with the above photograph) regarding the redevelopment of "blighted" residential areas of the city, I responded with the comments below.

[You can find the original uncropped screenshot here.]

Brick City posted the above image under the title "City Struggles." Along with the image are the following questions:

What do we do with areas like this?

Do we let a developer come in and create a New Town St. Charles or Winghaven? Do we build suburban style housing on the existing street grid? Do we restore the homes that are currently here and build historic replicas around them?

What should we do?


My comment:

Of the three alternatives you've laid out, I would answer, "No, no, and no."

Bringing in a developer to wipe a clean slate (bulldoze history, culture, and people) might be economically viable, but it displaces the existing residents literally and figuratively. This is wrong. Not merely in a moral sense, but with respect to the overall costs to society and the environment. Displacing people and communities simply pushes problems around and creates a defensive, separatist attitude.

Building suburban style housing on the existing street grid would be disastrous. The street itself would be destroyed except for the use of the automobile. If you're going to go suburban, you might as well rip up the sidewalks. It won't really matter all that much if you maintain the street grid or modify it. The suburban house is a poor model to follow in general and in an urban setting, it is positively destructive and deadening. It results in people being alienated from their environments and from each other.

Restoring the existing homes should absolutely be considered. Even if the cost is greater than the cost of demolishing and rebuilding, there is a sense of history and place inherent in these structures that can help to guide new construction in the area. A completely clean slate is a bad way to start. Why? Because it allows developers / builders / designers to effectively ignore the context and the site's history. Doing so paves the way for anonymous, lowest common denominator, completely "non-offensive" real estate driven investment (i.e. profiteering).

What should we do? Let me think of this a little, although I believe there is a suggestion in my above comments of the appropriate course of action which mediates between complete obliteration of the existing fabric and an attempt at historical replication.

An outline: Rebuild using the principles established by the urban design as it existed. That is, replicate the conceptual fabric for creating a new community that is based directly upon the pre-existing situation. Then, build structures that are honest, direct expressions of the needs, functions, materials, and construction methods used in creating the new homes.

So the figure-ground image of the fully developed neighborhood might resemble the pre-existing figure ground (but not replicate it). The homes would varying in style and type. The homes would not need to necessarily be brick or follow the typology of the existing buildings. Consideration for the existing buildings should be a factor in the design of the new structures, but not the primary determinant of the exterior form.

Otherwise, the exteriors become false masks over suburban crap without character or meaning.


Does that help at all?

Ray & Charles Eames Stamps coming !

In the summer of 2008, these stamps will become available through the USPS. I can't wait . . . I'm sure they'll become collector's items.

Here's a quotation from Eames Demetrios:

These stamps were designed by the remarkable Derry Noyes, who design[s] many of the stamps for the US Post Office. The first inklings of this possibility were 10 or 12 years ago when we (I am wearing my Eames Office hat here) first answered a request for research images.

There is a wonderful familial connection there, as Derry is the daughter of Eli Noyes, who was an extremely close friend of Charles and Ray’s and the director of design at IBM.

Slowly over this time period it blossomed to a full on set of 16 stamps to celebrate the richness of Charles and Ray’s work. We see the Eames House, La Chaise, the Lounge Chair, Crosspatch, House of Cards, the film Tops and more.

Just think: How many Toys are on stamps? How many short films? This is just a great thing.

Did anyone save some sheets of the Noguchi stamps of a few years back?

book review: 20 Fellows

20 Fellows: Paths Taken, Lessons Learned is a commendable, substantive book that repays reading and viewing at many levels: visual, historical, inspirational, and personal. The ostensible purpose of the publication is to provide guidance for young architectural graduates from 20 St. Louis Chapter AIA Fellows. While fulfilling this mandate in an appealing, engaging manner, it also offers as a historical snapshot of St. Louis architectural practice in the fifty years from 1950 to 2000. It provides a more personal and at the same time more objective first person commentary on pursuing a career in architecture than can be reliably find elsewhere. In an age in which self-promotional marketing materials are often distributed in the guise critical monographs, this book fills an important niche.

The book is the brain child of Jamie Cannon, FAIA. He and his unfailing wife Mary Jo are to be congratulated for taking a good idea, doggedly pursuing it, locating funding, soliciting written and visual contributions, editing and organizing them, arranging for excellent graphic design and high quality printing. If nothing else, the book is a professionally executed document of the thoughts, history, works, and advice of highly recognized and accomplished architects in this time and place (something worthwhile of itself).

William Odell, FAIA of HOK.

Harper College, Palatine, Illinois.

Photograph by Paul Rivera (p. 107).

The book’s structure and layout (graphic design by Kiku Obata) is appropriate to the task of communicating each architect’s experiences, views and opinions on architecture as a meaningful, fulfilling profession. Each Fellow is allotted one chapter to offer advice, knowledge, and experience based upon their own personal history.

The range of viewpoints and experiences is fortuitous including several designers of the highest caliber; practitioners involved a range of building types & scales, and successful architects working in private, public, and not-for-profit organizations. In addition to the more “stereotypical” career paths expected, individuals included represent dedication to architectural education, community activism, local politics, and historic preservation.

Given its format, twenty brief chapters each authored by one Fellow, the book is an easy read. It can be viewed in discrete moments since each chapter features one Fellow’s writing with accompanying illustrations. The book includes examples of world-class architectural photography and design.

Albert B. Fuller, Jr., FAIA.

Naval Aviation Cadet Patrol Squadron 47.

The inclusion of sketches, paintings, and personal memorabilia provides a wonderful sense of the individual behind the words and images. Poignant illustrations include a young Al Fuller in aviation gear, Gene Mackey’s evocative sketches, Dinos Michaelides’ Athens Polytechneion student ID, and Lou Saur’s objective yet personal record of his father’s workshop.

Each architect has taken their own approach in developing their essay. Some offer opinions and advice for young aspiring architects. Others recount their educational and professional experiences in a manner that reveals the sometimes serendipitous nature of the development of a life.

Some writings are philosophical and even polemical. I welcome the thoughtful commentary on architectural topics (Obata on design; Odell on the creative process) as well as societal issues (Cotton on economics; Danna on community outreach). The essays implicitly or explicitly address the impact of the culture of modernism. This generation of architects has experienced first-hand massive societal changes on a global scale -- economic, political, and military -- during the mid to late twentieth century.

William A. Bowersox, FAIA of PowersBowersox.

Forest Park Golf Clubhouse, Saint Louis, Missouri.
(Photograph by Robert Pettus, p. 19).

These architects were generally educated in the context of modernist philosophy of the post WWII era. The extent to which they respect and draw inspiration from works of the past is heartening. The fundamental importance of architectural history is evident. While International Modernism theoretically rejected the forms and habits of history, it’s clear that each of these architects has been informed and enlightened by visiting and studying the canonical architectural forms of the past (European, Mediterranean) as well as benefiting from non-traditional sources of inspiration (Asian, vernacular).

These architects are invariably strong, independent minded thinkers and doers who’ve made substantive contributions to the profession. While the realms in which their activities vary including corporate offices, university buildings, and housing for the wealthy and the displaced, they generally demonstrate the validity of George Nikolajevich’s thesis regarding the imperative role of the individual of intelligence, will, determination, and belief.

Eugene J. Mackey, III, FAIA.

Sketch of the Golden Gate Ferry, San Francisco, 1990.

While such sentiments may bring to mind authoritative architects like Frank Lloyd Wright and Mies van der Rohe, Nikolajevich makes clear the critical importance of meaningful collaboration between an architect and his or her client, consultants, and associates when he writes, “ . . . a design team resembles a jazz band where the individual member’s expression remains intact, and at the same time has a transformative effect on the work of other team members” (p. 91).

Some aspects detract from the book’s overall strengths. The quality of the texts vary revealing the extent to which architects may prefer the use of the written word over visual and oral communication. One approach to overcoming this limitation would be to conduct interviews of those architects who express themselves especially well through the spoken word. Of course such an undertaking would involve considerably more effort and expense.

Constantine E. Michaelides, FAIA.

Student Identification Booklet, Athens Polytechnion, 1948.

Other details could be improved upon in subsequent versions and I do hope this kind of collaborative effort for the benefit of young professionals will be repeated in the future. Providing an index would be helpful for contemporary readers as well as for future historians. These architects are invariably connected with one another professionally, educationally, and/or personally. Providing an index would be a meaningful step toward integrating these individual essays into an even more coherent, cohesive document.

Another way to expand the book’s scope would be to mount an exhibition, conference, roundtable discussion or other similar event from which many stories would undoubtedly emerge of historical interest and of practical use for young architects starting out along with the added benefit to young architects of the opportunity to personally meet these esteemed professionals.

While the list of St. Louis Chapter Fellows, Gold Honor and Gold Medal Recipients, provided (p. 164) offers some background and context, a variety of additional features could meaningfully expand its scope and impact. A timeline and/or brief history of the St. Louis Chapter AIA would help to place these essays into a meaningful, well-rounded context. Similarly, an essay by a historian familiar with the development of the architectural profession in St. Louis would help to flesh out the overriding concerns and themes forming the implicit context of individual careers. Of course, there have been several worthwhile publications addressing such concerns including Modern Architecture in St. Louis, The Way We Came, A Guide to St. Louis Architecture, and the many excellent Landmarks Association publications.

Gyo Obata, FAIA of HOK.

Community of Christ Church, Independence, Missouri.

Photograph by Balthazar Korab (p. 101)

It takes special people with unusual focus and determination for a project of this nature to balance an individual’s desire to protect and enhance their legacy for the collective benefit of the profession and our culture. My hat is off to Jamie Cannon for following through on his idea, bringing it into realization with quality, personal meaning, and further benefiting the future of our profession.

Finally, I want to make reference to the excellent essay by Robert W. Duffy for the book's Foreword. I commend it to you as a succinct expression of the power and meaning architecture can have for people and communities unknown to the original architect. I will address his evocative text in a future blog entry.

Andrew L W Raimist, AIA
St. Louis, Missouri
Friday 4 January 2008

Isamu Noguchi & Isamu Kenmochi

Round rattan chair designed by Isamu Kenmochi (left). A woven bamboo chair designed by Noguchi and Kenmochi working collaboratively (center). Kenmochi's Kashiwado Chair (right) was inspired by the stance of a sumo wrestler.
Uploaded by Andrew Raimist.

Noguchi and Kenmochi first met in Kenzo Tange's Tokyo University office in 1950. They worked together on a series of furniture projects of unusual design, materials, and craftsmanship. Although they collaborated for less than two years, the output of their work together is impressive. Kenmochi was technical officer of the Industrial Arts Research Institute (IARI) in Tokyo. An exhibition highlighting their work is presently on display at The Noguchi Museum in Long Island City (through 25 May 2008).

As described in the exhibition notice on the museum's website:

The two Isamus shared a similar mission: to create and design a universally exceptional object, something with an intrinsic beauty of simplicity that is grounded in the knowledge of natural materials but also combined with a vision and embrace of experimental techniques and materials. Based in Japanese traditions of design, they both understood that this shared mission needed to go beyond the mere exotic.

Other important works by Noguchi from this time period are included in the exhibition. In particular, the furnishings he created for the Shin Banraisha, or “New Welcoming Space,” (1951-52) at Keio University. Noguchi designed these spaces in honor of his estranged father Yonejiro Noguchi, a professor at the University. Unfortunately a few years ago, Keio University demolished the building that included this work, a classic design of Noguchi's encompassing architecture, sculpture, and furniture set in coordinated interior and exterior spaces.


“Design: Isamu Noguchi and Isamu Kenmochi” is on view through 25 May 2008 at The Noguchi Museum, 32-37 Vernon Boulevard, Long Island City, Queens; telephone: (718) 204-7088.

Noguchi & Yamaguchi, 1952-53

Isamu Noguchi & Shirley Yamaguchi.
Uploaded by Andrew Raimist.

This image of Isamu Noguchi and Yoshiko Yamaguchi in Chuo Koron Gallery, Japan, 1952-53 is part of an exhibition entitled Design: Isamu Noguchi and Isamu Kenmochi.

Noguchi and Yamaguchi were married from 1952 to 1957. A prolific actress (also known in English as "Shirley Yamaguchi"), she was dubbed "The Gudy Garland of Japan". Unfortunately, they were both in demand in their respective fields resulting in substantial periods of time living separately. Yamaguchi was denied a visa to enter the United States resulting in more personal and professional difficulties. Although she was eventually permitted to enter the U.S., their relationship had been strained. Each artist made their work their highest priority making it difficult for them to resolve their temporal and geographic displacement from one another.

This photograph is part of an exhibit presently on display at The Noguchi Museum. The marble coffee table is on display along with other Noguchi furniture designs of the 1950s. His collaborations with Isamu Kenmochi form the nexus of the exhibit featuring rare, classic examples of their work from this period, some recreated especially for this presentation.


Archival image courtesy of The Noguchi Museum (photographer unknown).

Noguchi -- Lunar Landscape, 1944

Lunar Landscape, 1944.
Uploaded by Andrew Raimist.

sculpture: Lunar Landscape.
sculptor: Isamu Noguchi.
materials: magnesite cement, cork, fishing line, electric lights and acetate on wood mount.
dimensions: 34.5" h. x 24.75" w. x 7.9" d.
date: 1944.

Lunar Landscape is elaboration and development of his earlier model for a work of land art entitled This Tortured Earth. The implicit suggestion of the earth's surface serving as a metaphor for a body's flesh in that work becomes more specifically and graphically anthropomorphic here. In Lunar Landscape identifiable elements of human anatomy including such gendered attributes such as a woman's breasts, a pregnant belly, and a male phallus.

Colored light emanates from a series of slits in the surface of the work: a long thin slit across its top (perhaps suggesting a vaginal opening) as well as two diagonal slits across the protruding belly. Noguchi employed colored acetate to achieve the effects of colored light (red, yellow and blue) from these cuts into the surface of the work giving the impression that the colors emanate from within the body of the land itself.

The horizontal phallic element across the bottom of the work projects a clear white light back onto the surface. This element reappears in several of Noguchi's lunars. In each case the form projects outward from the surface and shines light back onto the surface creating a intensely back lit form silhouetted against strongly reflected light. It seems that a key aspect of Noguchi's concept of self-illuminated works of sculpture as "lunars" involves the reflection of light from a hidden source (just as the nighttime illumination of the moon glows with the light of the unseen sun).

Noguchi's suggestion that the surface of the work is comparable to the surface of the moon (or the earth) is supported by the small elongated divot on the left side that seems to have been caused by the impact of a ball-shaped object (such as an asteroid). The suspended cork spheres suggests such satellites, moons, planets or other such bodies in motion.

These spheres hang down from points of support projecting from the work's surface. They simultaneously suggest orbiting heavenly bodies while hanging distinctly downward reacting to the pull of gravity since the work is mounted vertically to a wall. This piece would not work properly mounted any other orientation. It certainly would lose its effectiveness if positioned horizontally as a kind of "table landscape" as some of his other landscape works of the period where after being cast in bronze (i.e., Contoured Playground of 1941 and This Tortured Earth of 1943).

While the connection between Noguchi's personal life experiences and his motivations for producing works of art may not correspond in a direct, explicit manner, it is difficult not to interpret his work in the context of his life's experiences. Some critics have argued strongly against such a reading of the critical themes of an artist's life in their artworks, however, Noguchi sometimes explains his work in exactly those terms, at least as part of the implicit context of and basis for interpreting his work.

Works such as My Arizona and This Tortured Earth are both explicit reactions to his experiences during World War II. The former work relates to his time as an internee at the War Relocation Center in Poston, Arizona in 1942. The latter work was specifically prompted by a photograph of the destructive impact on the earth of aerial bombardment in North Africa.

Lunar Landscape of 1944 seems to be a development of the forms and ideas begun in those two works of 1943. All were made from magnesite cement and offer an abstract interpretation of the earth in sculptural terms.

With regard to his confinement in Poston, Noguchi commented:

The memory of Arizona (Internment Camp, 1942) was like that of the moon, a moonscape of the mind . . . . Not given the actual space of freedom, one makes its equivalent -- an illusion within the confines of a room or a box -- where the imagination may roam to the further limits of possibilities, to the moon and beyond.
-- -- Isamu Noguchi, A Sculptor's World, 1968.

His thoughts suggest that his exploration of a sculpture of the moon's surface was a part of his
mental protection from the harsh realities of racism and militarism as he found in all of it's raw feelings of pain and sorrow. He enjoyed imagining of worlds beyond the earth (often directed toward the lunar surface) a place without the difficulties and horrors of the real world.


Archival image.

Top 100 Architecture Blogs

We've been accorded the honor of being one of the top 100 architecture blogs in the category Musings. I'm not sure what criteria or on who's authority this decision has been made. Regardless, we'll celebrate the compliment.

Memorial to the Dead of Hiroshima ("corrected")

Hiroshima Memorial ("corrected").
Uploaded by Andrew Raimist.

Model for Memorial to the Atomic Dead, Hiroshima (unrealized proposal), 1952.



This image above is a composite of two photographs.

In this version of the montage have modified the top and bottom photographs to align with one another, particularly the lines of the two massive supports below ground with the legs of the arch above ground. In addition, the horizon line has been straightened to be level rather than sloping toward the left.

While these modifications of the montage are really quite subtle and don't change the essential idea being communicated, I've discovered several things about this memorial design that were otherwise obscure and unclear.

You can view an image of the overall site design here. This image of the site model reveals what appears to be a trapezoidal shaped slot in the ground plane. I have struggled to reconcile the slot admitting light to the underground chamber with this presentation of the design and have struggled to understand the relationship between the arch, the slot, and the memorial block located in the crypt.

Unable to resolve the seeming conflicting spatial arrangement suggested by the composite above and below ground image with the site model, I was only able to gain more insight into the design by breaking the two photographs apart. This approach to viewing the memorial design suggested itself to me when I recently discovered a Japanese publication of 1953 representing the work that Noguchi had assembled for exhibit there following his arrival there in June 1951.


Note: My research into the design of Noguchi’s Hiroshima memorial was stimulated and enriched by the following seminal article:

Winther, Bert. "The Rejection of Isamu Noguchi's Hiroshima Cenotaph: A Japanese American Artist in Occupied Japan". Art Journal, Vol. 53, No. 4, 'Sculpture in Postwar Europe and America, 1945-59' (Winter, 1994), pp. 23-27.

Archival image from Isamu Noguchi: A Study of Space by Ana Maria Torres (New York: Monacelli Press, 2000).

Noguchi -- model for "Memorial to the Atomic Dead, Hiroshima" (above ground)

Hiroshima Memorial (above ground).
Uploaded by Andrew Raimist.

model for Hiroshima Memorial (unrealized proposal), 1952.




This photograph depicts the above ground portion of Noguchi's proposed memorial. You can view an image of the overall site design here.

This model represents the arch as one massive piece of carved granite. Realizing that such an arch was impossible to create on the site, Noguchi subsequently worked out in detail the construction, erection, and fabrication required for creating this monument as visible here.

I've found this image of the memorial to be compelling and powerful. While it seems to draw upon the parabolic arch shape of Eero Saarinen's design for the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial on the Saint Louis riverfront, it clearly expresses an archaic, heavy weight of darkness. This character is a complete reversal of Saarinen's design emphasizing modern construction, materials, aerodynamics, and lightness.

The aspect of this photograph that has continually puzzled me is the juxtaposition of the massive arch with what I believed was a bowl-shaped funerary urn below it. Viewed in this manner, it seems to be a complete composition in itself. When the underground crypt is added it seems to replicate the honorary memorial of the urn.

I suspect I continued to view the shape below the arch as a freestanding urn based upon seeing the montaged image of the above and below ground sections simultaneously as well as the general blackness of the arch and the urn shape below it.

After examining these photographs more closely and comparing them to the other available images of the site model, I've come to realize that dark shape is not an urn at all! It is actually a trapezoidal (or rectangular) opening in the ground. Understanding the slot in the pavement in this manner begins to make more sense of the below ground view. That slot in the ground is the "skylight" focusing light upon the granite block below. Since the same slot is viewed from above and below in the montaged image and the two photographs aren't entirely aligned, it suggests two rather different objects.


Archival image from Isamu Noguchi: A Study of Space by Ana Maria Torres (New York: Monacelli Press, 2000).

Noguchi -- model for Memorial to the Atomic Dead, Hiroshima" (below ground)

Hiroshima Memorial (below ground).
Uploaded by Andrew Raimist.

sculpture: model for Memorial to the Atomic Dead, Hiroshima (unrealized proposal), 1952.



This photograph depicts the below ground portion of the memorial. Two massive supports surround a central granite block inscribed with the names of the dead. The calligraphic symbol inscribed is for "Isamu" meaning "courage". Noguchi apparently added this inscription to the model after the design was rejected by the City of Hiroshima.

The stated reason for the memorial's rejection was that the design was too abstract for common people to understand as a place to pray. The actual reason the project was rejected was the fact of Noguchi's American citizenship. It was felt inappropriate to have an American design a monument for an act of horrific destruction perpetrated by Americans.

This photograph is almost always shown with an image of the above ground portion of the memorial design. There are several distortions and contradictions that are evident when the two images are viewed as if taken of a sectional view of a model depicting the above and below ground portions of a singular model.

One problem I've noticed is that in the typical montage shown, the massive concrete supports below ground are somewhat misaligned with respect to the memorial arch above. In correcting and adjusting the two images to fit together, I came to realize several things about the design.

I was always mystified by the trapeziodal opening admitting light to the below ground chamber containing the names of the dead. In Noguchi's design, the names were to have been inscribed on a massive granite block. The means of support for this block is vague at best. I could only assume it must be positioned up against a wall and supported in that manner, giving the illusion of a floating mass of black granite.

However, the trapezoidal skylight seemed positioned in a very particular manner to admit light from above to create a special aura. I couldn't imagine that Noguchi's design hadn't accounted for the position of the sun, shadows, times of day, and the seasons of the year.

I just couldn't reconcile the below ground image with the arch above. Investigating further offered more information, but additional complications.


Archival image from Isamu Noguchi: A Study of Space by Ana Maria Torres (New York: Monacelli Press, 2000).

Kirkwood Moderne For Sale

Streamline Moderne Home For Sale.
Uploaded by Andrew Raimist.

This Streamline Moderne home on South Geyer Road is presently for sale. While it has many characteristics of homes by Harris Armstrong, it was apparently not one of his designs.

The website with the real estate listing includes interior and exterior photographs. I encourage anyone interested in the house to visit and take a look for themselves.

In years past, the condition of the house (particularly the exterior white painted brick) was deteriorating, stained, and flaking. It has more recently been tuckpointed and repainted. The landscaping has been updated and it seems the overall condition of the house improved.



Photograph by Andrew Raimist, 2006.

Shanley Building -- perspective

Perspective.
Uploaded by Andrew Raimist.

Armstrong's rendering of the Shanley Building is taken from a somewhat unusual point of view. The geometry of the construction puts the viewer just below the top of the wall. This is evident by the alignment of the horizon line (at the left and right sides of the background trees) and the three ventilation grilles located above the long horizontal strip of glass blocks leading from the planter on Maryland Avenue back to the cantilevered canopy over the inside corner entrance.

The position of the viewer horizontally is also far from coincidental as it aligns with the face of the floating garden wall. This view allow Armstrong to reveal both sides of this long narrow space leading from the sidewalk directly southward toward the entry. On your left as you enter the garden gate is a largely blank white stucco wall relieved by a long horizontal strip of glass blocks set flush with its surface. This line of glass gives the wall a sense of dematerialization by denying any visual suggestion of structural support for the portion of the wall above.

The three ventilation grilles punctuate this wall with a rhythm echoing the visual structural supports creating the illusion of a floating garden wall. The vents allow for fresh air between the interior ceiling and the shallowly sloped roof (hidden behind the flat parapet).


Drawing courtesy of the Harris Armstrong Archives, Special Collections, Washington University in Saint Louis.

Noguchi -- This Tortured Earth, 1943

This Tortured Earth, 1942.
Uploaded by Andrew Raimist.

sculpture: model for This Tortured Earth.
sculptor: Isamu Noguchi.
materials: bronze casting.
dimensions: 28" x 28" x 4".
date: 1942.

Noguchi apparently said he'd conceived the piece after seeing an aerial photograph of a North African desert riddled with bombs. I can understand the literal destruction and idea for representing it, but I suspect there's much more angst in this work that addresses human interaction, behavior, hatred, violence, racism, and other forms of discrimination. I see this work as a abstract reconceptualization of his earlier, more literal image of a contoured, twisted human figure in Death (Lynched Figure) of 1934.

Following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor (Sunday 7 December 1941), people of Japanese descent in the Western part of the United States were interred in relocation camps. Noguchi voluntarily left New York to work with the Japanese-American community. He made plans for crafts, parks, playgrounds, etc. for the settlement in Arizona where he was placed (Poston I). The government managers (Bureau of Indian Affairs because the settlement was located on Native American reservation) encouraged him to develop these plans for improving the life of the Nisei (people of Japanese descent born in the U.S.). Unfortunately, they had no intention of providing him with any assistance. It seems that Nisei viewed him with suspicion because of his cooperation with the government.

After enduring terrible living conditions, heat of 130 degrees F., people being made to construct their own dwellings, stuff their own mattresses, etc., he eventually decided to leave. At that point, his case came to the attention of Washington bureaucrats who opened an FBI file on him. He was refused permission to leave.

He eventually obtained a temporary pass to leave and returned to NYC. It is at that point that he began to develop works such as:
-- Monument to Heroes
-- My Arizona
-- Red Lunar Fist
-- I am a Foxhole

A more recent color photograph depicts this piece at a downward angle where it is positioned like a table.


Archival photograph by Kevin Noble.

Noguchi -- This Tortured Earth, 1943

This Tortured Earth, 1942.
Uploaded by Andrew Raimist.

sculpture: model for This Tortured Earth.
sculptor: Isamu Noguchi.
materials: bronze casting.
dimensions: 28" x 28" x 4".
date: 1942.

"The idea of sculpting the earth followed me through the years, with mostly playground models as metaphor, but then there were others. This Tortured Earth was my concept for a large area to memorialize the tragedy of war. There is injury to the earth itself. The war machine, I thought, would be excellent equipment for sculpture, to bomb it into existence."
-- Isamu Noguchi.

It's unclear whether Noguchi considered this model for a large scale earthwork sculpture to be considered metaphorically or as an actual proposal. The story is that he'd seen an aerial photograph of a bombed area in North Africa and was struck by the incredible malleability of the earth as a medium for three dimensional sculptural exploration. From the title and his comment regarding the "tragedy of war, it seems clear he saw this approach as an opportunity to make a statement about the destructiveness of war.

His rendering of the earth as a tortured surface suggests a living being that's been torn, damaged, and deformed as a human body might be following torture. It seems to draw upon the analogy common to many world cultures of the idea of the earth as a mother, as a source of life and regeneration. Noguchi explored these themes throughout his career in representational, symbolic, and abstract works.


Here is a link to an alternative view of this work looking directly downward on the model.


Archival photograph from The Noguchi Foundation, Inc..

Noguchi -- My Arizona, 1943

My Arizona, 1943.
Uploaded by Andrew Raimist.

Isamu Noguchi produced this abstract piece following his return from confinement at the Japanese-American internment camp in Poston, Arizona (from May through November 1942). It seems that he's attempting to use "pure abstraction" to express some very real, powerful emotions and perhaps to purge some of the harsh memories of his time there.

Although Noguchi initially volunteered to join other Nisei (American born Japanese Amer