Architect Max Strang interprets ‘old-school’ ideas for a new era

By Harold Bubil, real estate editor, Herald-Tribune

Max Strang, a Winter Haven native who made his architectural reputation in Miami,

Max Strang

Max Strang, FAIA, Photo ©Scott Rhea

turned some heads when he returned to his Polk County hometown to design an elegantly bold, contemporary downtown apartment building called Raingarden Lofts.

The town is known for the progressive modernism of architect Gene Leedy. But still, the lofts, completed in 2015, stand out. Winter Haven is not Miami.

The façade of the building evokes Paul Rudolph‘s 1958 Deering House on Casey Key. That is not by chance. In 1980, when he was 10, Strang’s parents bought a rundown house on Casey Key next to Leedy’s restored beach house, which was a few houses up the beach from the temple-like Deering House. Although now largely hidden from street view by a new house on the site, it has become an icon of the Sarasota School of architecture.

“My father purchased a decrepit old shack next door to a house Leedy had renovated for his own use,” said Strang, whose firm is known as [STRANG], complete with the brackets. “I used to go shelling there all the time.”

He also used to visit the Leedy-designed Syd Solomon House on the south end of Siesta. No longer standing because of beach erosion, it was “a powerful space, too,” Strang recalls.

These childhood experiences shaped the architect’s outlook. And he firmly believes Florida’s midcentury modern architecture still has plenty to teach the designers and clients of today.

Max Strang horizontal_600px
The Sarasota Architectural Foundation presented a lecture by Strang, titled “The Evolution of Florida Modernism,” on Wednesday in the Alfred Goldstein Library at Ringling College of Art + Design.

“A good Sarasota School of Architecture house blurs the indoor-outdoor (divide) so well – the walls of glass, the light coming in from different directions,” Strang said Monday in a telephone interview. “For me, it is a sense of peace when you are inside one of those homes.”

He should know. His childhood house in Winter Haven was designed by Leedy, who got his start in Sarasota in the early 1950s before heading to Polk County.

After graduating from the University of Florida, Strang worked for Leedy as an intern. “He sent me to Tampa as free labor for John Howey, doing drawings” for Howey’s 1995 book, “The Sarasota School of Architecture.” He later worked in the firm of the late Pritzker Prize-winner Zaha Hadid. His firm has offices in Miami, Fort Lauderdale and Telluride, Colorado, where he lives.

Strang cropped

Raingarden Lofts, [STRANG] Architects, Winter Haven, Florida – Photo ©Claudio Manzoni


For the Raingarden Lofts (shown above) and the under-construction Tuckman House (shown below) in Fort Lauderdale, Strang and his bright young staff took some clues from Paul Rudolph in considering the site and climate. Both structures have vertical exterior “fins” that help control sunlight, without blocking it. Rudolph showed how this could be done at the Deering House (its beefy beachside columns cast shadows on the interior), Sarasota High School, the Umbrella House , the Milam House on Ponte Vedra Beach and other structures that sought to tame the sun without blocking it completely.

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Tuckman Residence, [STRANG] Architects, Ft Lauderdale, Florida, 2017

“The fins on the second floor, those are in response to climate and privacy in the same way Rudolph’s Milam House did with the staggered squares and the sunshades,” Strang said of the Tuckman House. “The architecture is performing a role to address the climate. The style just comes with it.”

Strang is often approached by clients who want the delicacy of the midcentury modern houses, but the luxury and size of today.

“All the time, I get a new commission to do a house, and the client will bring me reference images of Sarasota School houses, or (1940s) Case Study houses in Los Angeles, yet they are asking for an 8,000-square-foot house,” he said with a laugh. “I think there is a nostalgia for the smaller scale of these things,” a scale that is hard to achieve when flood-zone requirements mandate the elevation of waterfront homes.

“And, there are the strict product approvals in South Florida,” Strang said. “It is hard to get the sizes of the windows that we would prefer. The Florida Energy Code says you can only have so much glass in the house, too. So it is a struggle to match the delicacy and transparency of those early buildings.”

But, the ideas of Rudolph, Leedy, Tim Seibert, Victor Lundy and others endure, and can be reused, if not reproduced, he said. Those ideas include clarity of design concept, the honest and innovative use of materials, using structure to define space and not compete with it, and blending indoors with outdoors.

“It is the repurposing of the ideas, not repurposing the exact iteration of the building,” Strang said. “It underscores the timelessness of the Sarasota School. The modern movement probably got overtaken by schlocky modern buildings too quickly, and the good stuff wasn’t appreciated. Its time ended prematurely. So I am happy to help share the ongoing relevance of midcentury modernism.

“There can be very schlocky modern architecture, too. When someone does a traditional building poorly, it is not as bad as when someone does a modern building poorly.” SAF

Victor Lundy, Modern Architecture’s Inspired Outsider

From sketchbook musings to inspired design, Lundy’s work showcased the genius of an eclectic thinker

By Patrick Sisson, Curbed

“When I think thoughts, I draw thoughts.”

The career of architectural iconoclast Victor Lundy took many shapes over decades of designing buildings: the grand, imposing rectangles of the United States Tax Court Building in Washington, D.C. (1974), a deconstructed cube that redefined the limits of government architecture; the tree-like columns clustered around the entrance of the Warm Mineral Springs Motel in Sarasota County, Florida (1958), concrete umbrellas beckoning travelers; and the bold, angular forms of the Church of the Resurrection in Harlem, New York (1966), a powerful collection of simple shapes. But no matter the creative solution or inspired design, any building usually started as an idea sketched on a piece of paper with an ebony pencil. Lundy was an inveterate artist and drawer, constantly creating and communicating his artistic and architectural visions on endless sheets of paper.

“When he traveled, he sketched buildings in order to figure them out,” says Donna Kacmar, an architect and architecture faculty member who is currently working on a book about Lundy. “He is really curious about the world, the way people live, and the buildings that he visits. He doesn’t sketch to record, but to understand, to grasp how the building was crafted.”

GSA_US_Tax_Court_bldg.0

United States Tax Court Building

Drawing, so central to Lundy’s creative process, also serves as a potent metaphor for his career. An adventurous believer in progressive architecture, Lundy had an artist’s bent for redefinition and exploration, rarely repeating himself, and always letting the site and situation determine his drawings and designs (he was even an early experimenter with pneumatics and inflatable architecture, before the avant-garde began popularizing the form). His vision, and desire to maintain a small, hands-on practice, has made him a lesser-known member of the Modernist canon, one without a signature aesthetic. But his versatility and vitality, which filled up stacks of “brain books” with idea and observations about the built and natural world, suggest a creative force worth studying and emulating.

“With every problem I make these images out the blue—initial responses—and then I fuss with them, refine, change, and discard,” Lundy told Dwell magazine. “I work towards the irreducible.”

Born in a New York City brownstone in 1923 to a Russian immigrant family, Lundy was recognized for his drawing talent early on, a gift which played a significant role throughout his life. Encouraged by his mother, he developed his artistic talents, and eventually attended New York University, where he would begin to study architecture and learn the Beaux Arts method. When he enlisted in the Army Special Training Program and was sent to the European front during WWII, a surgeon noticed his sketches while Lundy was getting treated for his war injuries (he filled up more than two dozen sketchbooks overseas, eight of which survived), and recruited him to sketch a new medical procedure he was developing, allowing him to miss eight dangerous months on the front..

Lundy WWII Sketches_3 BuildingsLundy Rotch Sketches_2
Drawings from Victor Lundy’s wartime sketchbooks (top row) and Rotch travels

But perhaps the most impactful drawing he made, at least early on in his career, was a watercolor that earned him one of his first commissions. After returning from WWII (with a Purple Heart for his wounds), Lundy attended the Harvard Graduate School of Design, learning from modernists such as Walter Gropius, then set out for Sarasota, Florida, to make a name for himself. A local group searching for a designer for a new chamber of commerce building saw one of Lundy’s pictures, a watercolor of Notre Dame Cathedral, and asked him to create a sketch. The resulting Blue Pagoda Building, topped with celadon blue roof tile, became one of his early classics.

Victor Lundy Blue Pagoda
Blue Pagoda Building, photo ©Jenny Acheson

Discussions of the Sarasota School of Modernism often focus on Paul Rudolph, another Modernist working in the Gulf Coast community. But Lundy’s varied body of work was hard to match. In addition to the Chamber of Commerce, he created a celebrated drive-in church for a congregation in nearby Nokomis that was featured in Life magazine. His playful Warm Mineral Springs Motel, while not a standout in his body of work, according to Lundy, provides a bit of personality on a drab roadside stop, as well as an experiment in precast concrete paraboloids. To Lundy, the unique shape symbolized the fountain of youth.

Where other modernist architect, who didn’t have an artistic or Beaux Arts background, would create stark, geometric blueprints, Lundy’s sketches leapt off the page, showing an inherent sense of color and creative expression.

“Sarasota was a great place for a young architect trying to get work, and do the best job he could with the projects that he had,” says Kacmar. “He found ways to do a lot with a little, but it also created a drive to innovate and figure out unorthodox ways to solve problems. He also has a great respect for structural engineers.”

Lundy experimentation also earned him church commissions, a type of building naturally imbued with symbolism, and perfect for his poetic approach to design. St. Paul Lutheran Church Fellowship Hall, a swooping grace note of laminated lumber, became one of a number of adventurous creations he made for congregations around the country. The Unitarian Meeting House in Hartford, Connecticut (1964), envisioned as a lotus blossom, contains a singular worship space separated by a series of concrete fins, and a roof held aloft by a unique system of steel cables. The First Unitarian Church in Westport, Connecticut (1965), was covered by a series of parabolic arches meant to symbolize a set of praying hands.

Victor Lundy St Paul Lutheran Church
St. Paul Lutheran Church Fellowship Hall, photo ©Jenny Acheson

“Lundy tended to work with younger congregations, and each building featured one idea done beautifully,” says Kacmar. “His religions is architecture and art.”

Lundy’s scrappy start in Sarasota set a tone for the rest of his career. He kept his practice small, hiring just a handful of employees, and focused on just a handful of projects. He also followed projects without just focusing on the bottom line. He went for a client meeting to submit a design a church in Harlem, and when he arrived, discovered he had won the job because no other architect bothered to show up. The result, his powerful Church of the Resurrection, has since been demolished, but offered a monumental, almost Brutalist interpretation of sacred space.

As architecture shifted in the late ‘60s and ‘70s away from the classic definitions of Modernism, Lundy would have appeared perfectly poised to seize more of the spotlight, with his knack for sculptural, unorthodox designs and experimentation. Lundy’s small office never produced the same volume of work as his some of his peers, and despite certified late-career masterpieces, including the bold United States Tax Court Building in Washington, D.C., and the Sri Lankan Embassy, his work isn’t as well known as it should be. A later position as design director at the firm HKS resulted in few built works.

Retired and living in Houston, Lundy still spends his days painting and sketching, continuing to fill up notebooks with ideas and thoughts, as he’s done his entire life. He’s disappointed that some of his built work hasn’t been as well preserved as it should be, that the end results of his inventive sketches haven’t been protected. It’s perhaps the unfortunate result of an eccentric creative career. Lundy’s life has been filled with a number of unique projects and career milestones—having his work features in an exhibit in Moscow during the Cold War or designing futuristic space flowers for the 1964 New York World’s Fair—that make him tough to pin down. While that diversity makes Lundy harder to classify, it often makes his work all the more striking.

“He didn’t spend time creating a marketing package,” says Kacmar. “He focused on his design work. Everything he did was singularly developed.”


The third annual SarasotaMOD Architecture Festival celebrating artist and architect SarasotaMOD WeekendVictor Lundy takes place in Sarasota, FL November 11-13, 2016. Featuring the opening party in the iconic Blue Pagoda building, Lundy art exhibition, legacy presentations and film documentary at Ringling College of Art + Design, trolley tours of Lundy and Sarasota landmarks and midcentury homes tours. SarasotaMOD is presented by Sarasota Architectural Foundation (SAF) in partnership with Sarasota Museum of Art, a division of Ringling College of Art + Design. Click to Buy Tickets

SarasotaMod Weekend Nov. 6 – 9

Umbrella House

The Umbrella House in Lido Shores, designed by architect Paul Rudolph in 1953. Photo by Bill Miller.

Sarasota High School

Sarasota High School designed by architect Paul Rudolph in 1958 and restored by the Sarasota School Board in 2015. Photo by Dan Snyder.

July 17, 2015
By Harold Bubil
harold.bubil@heraldtribune.com

It will be “all Paul, all the time” at the second SarasotaMOD, Sarasota Architectural Foundation’s celebration of midcentury modern architecture.

The focus of the Nov. 6-9 event is the architectural legacy of Paul Rudolph, who started his career here and designed such notable buildings as the Umbrella House, Riverview High School and an addition to Sarasota High School, all in the 1950s, before becoming dean of architecture at Yale University and expanding his influence globally.

Rudolph will be the subject of lectures, dinners, parties and tours on foot and by trolley.

Walker Guest House Replica

A replica of the 1952 Paul Rudolph designed Walker Guest House will be featured at SarasotaMOD Weekend. Illustration by John Pirman.

The highlight of the weekend is the opening of the Walker Guest House replica on the grounds of the John & Mable Ringling Museum of Art. SAF, with the help of architect Joyce Owens of Fort Myers and builder-architect Joe King of Bradenton, has constructed a replica of Rudolph’s famous 1952 Sanibel Island beach cottage. It will be displayed for 11 months at The Ringling, and can be disassembled and shipped to other museums as an educational exhibit on midcentury living and design concepts.

Notable speakers include Los Angeles architect Larry Scarpa and Rudolph scholars and authors Joe King, Christopher Domin, Roberto de Alba and Timothy Rohan; the latter wrote a definitive book on Rudolph in 2014, “The Architecture of Paul Rudolph”. Also speaking is Erica Stoller, daughter of Ezra Stoller, whose large format, black- and- white photographs of Rudolph’s buildings in the 1950s brought both men worldwide acclaim.

SarasotaMOD_logo draftsC. Ford Peatross, founding director of the architectural archive at the Library of Congress, will moderate a panel discussion on Rudolph’s legacy. While the architect is known for his delicate beach houses on Lido and Siesta keys, he also was a leader in the use of raw concrete to monumental effect in public buildings,starting with Sarasota High, continuing with the Yale Art & Architecture building, and continuing in Southeast Asia with high rise residential buildings. This style is known as Brutalism.

Several houses designed by Rudolph will be open for dinners and cocktail parties. Walking tours of Lido Shores, where Rudolph drew a number of houses for developer Phil Hiss, will be conducted by Christopher Wilson, Architecture and Design History professor at Ringling College and SAF board member, and the Herald-Tribune’s Harold Bubil.

The event closes on Monday, Nov. 9, with a bus tour of St. Petersburg’s architectural highlights, led by Bubil. Other presenters include Sarasota architect Carl Abbott, Tampa architect and author of “The Sarasota School of Architecture” John Howey, architect Tim Seibert, Sean Khorsandi of the Paul Rudolph Foundation and Miami Herald architecture critic Alastair Gordon.

“It will be important to talk about architecture as an art form,” said King. “Rudolph’s work, as a leader in Sarasota modernism, is so strong that people will gain a good feeling of that. The cultural and historical context of Rudolph in Florida will help people, especially in Sarasota, know and understand more about the place they live, and that is always a good thing — to be engaged with the community.”

Tickets go on sale August 14 at SarasotaMod.com.

Sarasota School Reunion

Veteran Sarasota architects reunite for inaugural mid-century design festival on Florida Modernism

By Mike Singer

Gene Leedy, FAIA, started his career as Paul Rudolph’s first employee in the mid-century master’s Sarasota office when it opened in the 1950s. Decades later, at the 1982 AIA Florida annual conference in Tampa, Leedy coined the phrase “Sarasota School” to frame a special sort of design ethos that Rudolph’s firm spearheaded.

“In those days, they used to refer to the architects in Chicago as the ‘Chicago School,’ so I called us the ‘Sarasota School,’ and it stuck,” he says.

Leedy, now 86, returned to Sarasota last month, joining four other AIA fellows, all now in their 70s and 80s, who recalled the Sarasota School’s bright lights—Victor Lundy, FAIA; Paul Rudolph, FAIA; Ralph Twitchell, FAIA; and other Modernist pioneers—and their impact on the subtropical Gulf Coast of Florida, as part of the city’s first-ever SarasotaMOD Weekend, a four-day celebration of mid-century design.

“During the 1950s, Sarasota was probably the greatest place in the world to be an architect,” Leedy said. “To me, it was like Paris after World War I.”

Tropical Modernism and Trying Times

Today, Sarasota’s community preservation leaders are capitalizing on the city’s rich architectural legacy with renewed vigor. The Sarasota Architectural Foundation, SarasotaMOD’s sponsor, hopes the festival will deepen public understanding of an important regional center of Modernism—this year and in subsequent years—and propel architectural tourism and preservation.

From an alfresco dinner at Rudolph’s Sanderling Beach Club (Image 1) to tours by trolley, boat, and foot around Siesta Key and Lido Shores, design enthusiasts got a rare chance to tour privately owned mid-century gems and learn how a town with fewer than 25,000 residents in the 1950s became a hot-bed of Modernism.

“A more informed, motivated and stimulated audience will ultimately result in a better built environment—one that is both respectful of our buildings and our history,” said Carl Carl Abbott Quote_SAF2Abbott, FAIA, chair of SarasotaMOD. “As lovely and architecturally significant as Sarasota is, many of our own mid-century buildings face enormous [preservation] challenges.”
If those challenges can be boiled down to some critical factors, certainly the long-term effects of climate on materials are on that list, as are the technical aspects of maintaining and restoring older Sarasota buildings. Above all, however, those things are made easier by widespread public awareness—not only of important local architectural legacies, but also stewardship of physical buildings and important design principles exemplified by those buildings.

SarasotaMOD panelist John Howey, FAIA, interviewed 22 architects active in the school, from 1941–1966, almost two decades ago for his book The Sarasota School of Architecture (MIT Press, 1997). In the book, he outlines five key principles advanced by Rudolph—largely adopted from Walter Gropius at Harvard—for what a regional school of architecture could mean.

“Clarity of construction, maximum economy of means, simple overall volumes penetrating vertically and horizontally, clear geometry floating above the Florida landscape, and honesty in details and in structural connections,” recalls Howey, “are the guiding principles of the Sarasota School.” Howey, 88, continues to utilize those principles in his Tampa-based practice.

“What happened here in Sarasota was very unique,” says Abbott, 78, a former student of Rudolph’s at Yale University whose work such as the Putterman House (1986, Image 2) continues to draw from the native Kentuckian’s formal experiments in massing and in section.

For Abbott, though, the Sarasota School represents two distinct influences that made it a unique expression of modern architecture: Rudolph and that of Ralph Twitchell, an Ohioan who opened his Sarasota office in 1936 and hired a 23-year-old Rudolph, fresh out of Auburn University, in 1941.

“There were two places in the world where both the Bauhaus School and the Organic School took root together,” says Abbott. “One was in Los Angeles and the other was here in Sarasota. Rudolph studied under Gropius at Harvard, and Ralph Twitchell favored the organic architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright.”

Together, Twitchell and Rudolph designed two important projects before Rudolph’s departure for graduate school at Harvard: their catenary-roofed Healy Guest House and the lattice-encased Umbrella House (Image 3, Image 4). Both projects received positive reviews in the architectural magazines of the day. Upon Rudolph’s return to Sarasota, the two architects formed Twitchell & Rudolph in 1946, a firm that had a productive five-year run before disbanding in 1951.

“Many people don’t know this, but Rudolph was a great merchant,” said Leedy. “He gave the magazines a little package with his beautiful drawings, a story, the whole ball of wax—all they had to do was sign their name to it. Paul made it so easy for all of them.”
Widespread publicity about the early Twitchell-Rudolph experiments attracted other young architects.

Frank Folsom Smith, FAIA, took a leave from his architectural studies at the University of Virginia in the late 1950s to apprentice with Sarasota’s other rising architectural star, Victor Lundy, FAIA, for $75 a week. But, as Smith reports, Lundy and Rudolph were never friendly, despite being classmates in graduate school.

“I always thought about Paul Rudolph and Victor Lundy as fire and ice—because Paul was cool and Victor was hot,” said Smith. “Victor was much more competitive [than Rudolph] and an excellent mentor. He could sit down and start a drawing on butcher paper, never miss a stroke, and end up with a design. He’d hand it to me and say ‘draw this.’”
For Smith, “this” included two landmark buildings: St. Paul’s Lutheran Church complex and the Waldman Building (Image 5, Image 6).

Edward “Tim” Seibert, FAIA, was just 25 in 1953, and a draftsman for Paul Rudolph, when he designed the stilt-raised Hiss Studio (Image 7). Philip Hiss, a visionary Sarasota developer and modern design advocate, sold Lido Shores properties from the office Seibert’s firm designed—including the speculative Umbrella House designed by Rudolph next door.

“I opened my own office in 1955, and for about a dozen years I lived in an architect’s paradise, although I didn’t realize this at the time,” Seibert, a panelist at SarasotaMOD, recalled. “I thought it must be like this everywhere. Sarasota abounded then in people who understood a new architecture, and wanted to be part of it.”

Today, however, the question is: How can preservationists encourage Sarasotans to see that once-new architecture as part of their futures?

Preservation and Expansion: Sarasota’s New Frontier

Sarasota has seen the same rapid growth and development as other Sun Belt cities, and preservation has not always been the rule of the land. Rudolph’s Riverview High School, completed in 1958 (the year he left to accept the deanship at the Yale School of Architecture) and the center of strong local preservation support, was razed in 2009 to make way for a parking lot (Image 8).

“The Building Itself Teaches,” the current exhibit at the Sarasota County Visitor Information Center and History Center Museum, tells the story of nine public schools constructed when Hiss served on the Sarasota Board of Public Instruction from 1953–1960. Hiss’s leadership transformed the county’s public educational environment, marrying modernist design with progressive pedagogy and setting a precedent for school design in postwar America.

Schools featured open floor plans and movable partitions and furniture that allowed for team teaching. “A lot of ideas that are common now about students working with other students, kids teaching kids, team teaching,” said Lorrie Muldowney, Assoc. AIA, manager of the Sarasota County History Center, in an opening-night speech at SarasotaMOD, “and these concepts informed the designs of schools such as Englewood Elementary by Jack West.”

Jack West, FAIA, who worked for Twitchell and Rudolph, started his own firm in 1951, and ultimately formed West and Conyers/Architects and Engineers in 1966, which he led through the 1990s.

Today, only four of the nine schools commissioned by Hiss still stand. However, in a major preservation victory, the façade of Rudolph’s Sarasota High School, 1958, is now undergoing restoration as part of a $42 million campus overhaul (Image 9). Jonathan Parks, AIA, principal and founder of Jonathan Parks Architect, an 11-person firm based in Sarasota, helped guide restoration efforts. Other pioneering schools on the other hand, such as Jack West’s Englewood Elementary School, have been demolished.

Elsewhere in Sarasota, the University of Florida recently launched CityLab-Sarasota, which is on track to offer an M.Arch degree program in the coming year. In a city that never had a school of architecture, Sarasota School examples will become a living lab for graduate students. The new academic program will be housed in a former 1960s furniture showroom designed by Sarasota School modernist William Rupp, AIA, and share the space with the Center for Architecture Sarasota, which opened in 2013.

Even Rudolph’s first solo commission, the Walker Guest House (Image 10), will live on in a new context. While the original, privately owned home still stands in nearby Sanibel Island, the Sarasota Architectural Foundation plans to reconstruct it on the grounds of Sarasota’s Ringling Museum of Art and ultimately take it on the road as a traveling kit of parts and mobile education studio.

“This is a very unusual ‘preservation’ project because we are building fresh from scratch, from the original drawings,” says Joe King, a Sarasota architect, co-author of Paul Rudolph: The Florida Houses (Princeton Architectural Press, 2009), and construction manager for the Walker Guest House reconstruction.

Once completed, the 580-square-foot house will be installed on the grounds of the Ringling Museum of Art in Sarasota, where attendees to SarasotaMOD in 2015 will have the opportunity to tour it, learn about Rudolph’s use of jalousie windows, and experience period furniture and fixings.

“[The client] Elaine Walker is very enthusiastic about the project and wants it to travel to the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis after its run at the Ringling,” says Joyce Owens, AIA, who moderated a panel at this year’s event and helped guide the reconstruction plans based on Rudolph’s original drawings. “After all, it was always one of Paul Rudolph’s favorite buildings.”

Decades may have passed, but the legacy of Rudolph and his trailblazing contemporaries still shines brightly in this southwestern Florida city.

Mike Singer is a frequent contributor to AIArchitect.


Photos shown above:
Image 1: The Sanderling Beach Club cabanas, 1952, overlooking the Gulf 
of Mexico, were Paul Rudolph’s first major non-residential project. 
Photo by Jenny Acheson.
Image 2: Putterman House, 1986, designed by Carl Abbott. Abbott studied 
under Rudolph at Yale and used his mentor's guiding principles of 
“simple overall volumes penetrating vertically and horizontally” in 
this monolithic street façade. Photo by Steven Brooke.
Image 3: Healy Guest House, aka the Cocoon House, 1950, designed by Paul 
Rudolph and Ralph Twitchell. Notable for its cantilevered roof and water 
bank overhang, the house generated widespread national publicity for the 
two. Photo by Greg Wilson.
Image 4: Umbrella House, 1953, designed by Paul Rudolph. The home's 
original umbrella latticework was blown away in a 1996 hurricane and 
replaced in 2008. Photo by Bill Miller.
Image 5: St. Paul's Lutheran Church (Fellowship Hall 1959, Sanctuary 
1968), designed by Victor Lundy. With a soaring roof suspended by steel 
cables, the church's simple exterior encloses a sculpturally curved 
wooden ceiling. Photo by Greg Wilson.
Image 6: Waldman Building, 1958, designed by Victor Lundy. It once 
served as a studio in which the dancers appeared to roadside observers 
as suspended in space. Photo by Greg Wilson.
Image 7: Hiss Studio, 1953, designed by Edward J. "Tim" Seibert. A glass 
box raised on 14 slender steel columns, this was the 1950s sales office 
where developer Philip Hiss sold his Lido Shores modernist houses. Photo 
by Greg Wilson.
Image 8: Riverview High School, 1959, designed by Paul Rudolph. Designed 
in the International Style, Rudolph's first public high school building 
was torn down in 2009 following a highly contentious preservation battle. 
Courtesy of Sarasota County Historical Resources.
Image 9: Sarasota High School Addition, 1960, designed by Paul Rudolph. 
Rudolph's last project in Sarasota, the exterior of the building is 
being restored and the interior repurposed as part of a $42 million 
rebuild of the Sarasota High School campus. Photo by Greg Wilson.
Image 10: Walker Guest House, 1952, designed by Paul Rudolph. Rudolph's 
last project in Sarasota, the exterior of the building is being restored 
and the interior repurposed as part of a $42 million rebuild of the 
Sarasota High School campus. Photo by Greg Wilson.

SarasotaMOD: Inspired, Iconic, Irresistible

Image

SarasotaMOD October 9-12, 2014

SarasotaMOD Weekend Tickets on Sale

Tickets now on sale!
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This four-day architectural festival takes place in Sarasota, and includes lectures and presentations by leading modernist architects, including Lawrence Scarpa, Tim Seibert, and Carl Abbott. Presenters also include architect John Howey, author of The Sarasota School of Architecture: 1941-1966; and architect Joe King, the co-author of Paul Rudolph: The Florida Houses. Author, critic and filmmaker Alastair Gordon, journalist Harold Bubil, and landscape architect Raymond Jungles will also lend their insights. Guided bus, boat and walking tours will explore Sarasota’s mid-century legacy by land and sea. Many festival gatherings will take place in acclaimed modernist structures.

Presented by the Sarasota Architectural Foundation
Lead Sponsors: RGB-Architects and Vue Sarasota Bay
Media Sponsor: Sarasota Magazine
Community Sponsors: City of Sarasota and Visit Sarasota

For more information about the festival, please visit www.sarasotamod.com

Architectural Lessons from the Sarasota School

Join SAF for a tour of the Cooney House on Sunday, August 4, 2013 from 2 – 4 pm. The featured speaker is Sam Holladay, AIA, principal of Seibert Architects, with special guest Tim Seibert, FAIA. $10 SAF Members; $15 Public – join SAF and admission to this event is free. Click to reserve online. info@saf-srq.org

The following article was originally published August 25, 2001 in the St. Petersburg Times. All rights reserved.

The founder of an award-winning design firm reflects on the exciting creative community of a half-century ago and its continued influence.

On Aug. 4, 2001, Seibert Architects of Sarasota received its second Test of Time award from the Florida state chapter of the American Institute of Architects. In 1999, the firm was honored for the 1966 John D. MacDonald House on Siesta Key, the home of one of Florida’s most distinguished writers and the creator of Travis McGee, detective, rough diamond and defender of the state’s ruined natural beauty.

The 2001 award, presented at the Florida AIA convention at the Renaissance Vinoy Resort Cooney House Tour August 4, 2013 from 2-4pmin St. Petersburg, recognized Seibert’s design for the 1965 Cooney residence on St. Armand’s Key. The award honors works that, by the timelessness of their design, have influenced a particular building variety.

The Cooney house, occupied for a third of a century by its original owners, is an outstanding example of the Sarasota School of architecture. This school, active between 1941 and 1966, is characterized by horizontal lines, open plans, large expanses of glass that merge indoors and out, bArchitect Tim Seibert, FAIAroad roof overhangs and a lack of ornamentation.

Seibert Architects’s founder, Edward J. “Tim” Seibert, now retired, offers these thoughts on the Sarasota of half a century ago, an incubator for design creativity, and on the state of architecture today.

For more on the Sarasota School of Architecture, visit www.saf-srq.org/sarasotaschool.

* * *
by Architect EDWARD J. SEIBERT, FAIA

Clarity of concept and meticulous detail and workmanship, using ordinary materials, are what make this design work. Thirty-five years ago this house was built on a 50-foot lot as simply and inexpensively as we could make it. It had bearing block walls, a flat roof, stock windows and stucco and drywall finishes.

What was special about the house was the pavilion living area with its 10-foot ceiling, full-height glass walls, and visual extension to the outdoors. We took advantage of the heavily planted neighboring lots for the view from the living pavilion and porch, but the remainder of the four-bedroom house turns inward, providing a contrasting experience in the more intimate bedroom and service spaces. On one end, the master bedroom wing opens to a private, walled courtyard, while the opposite end of the house contains two bedrooms, a bath, family room, kitchen, laundry and garage.

The simplicity of form required perfect detailing. A successful flat-roof design requires clean flashing and perfectly straight gravel stops and a way for the water to leave the roof without staining white walls. Both interior and exterior walls had to be perfectly fair and flat so that the spare geometry would have perfect shadows in the strong Florida light. “Less is more,” but the “less” must be flawlessly done.

For a third of a century the house has served its owners well. It was featured in the summer 2000 issue of Echoes magazine, for 80 years a key resource for 20th-century modern design. Last January it was on the Sarasota tour of the Southern California Society of Architectural Historians. In November it will be included on the “American Legacy” tour and symposium sponsored by the Fine Arts Society of Sarasota. The Florida Chapter of the American Institute of Architects has now recognized the Cooney house with its 2001 25-year “Test of Time” award.

The Modernist work being produced 35 years ago by a number of architects in our community is what later became known as “the Sarasota School of Architecture.” This architecture is about the enclosure of space and capture of light. Clarity of geometric and structural concept, economy of means, and honesty in the use of materials were also the signatures of this native Sarasota architecture. While the basic theories had originated in Europe with the Bauhaus in the 1920s, Paul Rudolph and others of us adapted European Modernism to Florida’s landscape and climate to make a new regional architecture.

I believe this was the appropriate architecture for our times in Florida, a unique new heritage for this special place offering fresh social, economic, political and historical ideas. It was a time for new ideas, in Sarasota and all over America. Ours was a premonition of a new way of life, not only in architecture but also in literature, art, furniture, tableware and politics.

Paul Rudolph, today acknowledged around the world as one of the important architects of the last century, started his career right here in Sarasota. I believe most of the principles of the Sarasota School (so named in 1982) originated with him. Nearly 50 years ago, as a young draftsman, I heard him discuss with Henry-Russell Hitchcock (who named the International Style in his book) the idea that lesser talents in architecture needed an academy, with a set of design principles and standards for those of less godlike talents to follow, as had been the case once for those trained in the Beaux Arts school.

Listening carefully to this and other conversations, I divined that I was to be one of these lesser mortals, and that Paul Rudolph was to be elected master and teacher, a new Vitruvius. I decided to learn my lessons from the master, and I remember now with joy those lessons. Like some others, I believed I had found the answer. This, for many of us of the school, was our beginning. Those of us who have worked hard and are especially creative sometimes successfully break the rules, as Paul did, quite often.

I opened my own office in 1955, and for about a dozen years I lived in an architect’s paradise, although I didn’t realize this at the time. I thought it must be like this everywhere! Sarasota abounded then in people who understood a new architecture, and wanted to be part of it.

It is difficult to explain the ambiance of the Sarasota of that time. By the start of the 1950s, the county had about 25,000 people. It was a small and pristine place, and its unsullied beauty attracted writers, painters, sculptors and intellectuals of all sorts. There were real artists, famous writers, professional bohemians, fakes, people with independent incomes, bums and some with brains who did menial labor to stay in this small-town natural paradise.

Sarasota was alive with ideas about art and architecture then, and we spent our bibulous nights talking about it. It was a happy and exciting place to be in those times. There was camaraderie of optimism among us who believed we were the inventors of new art forms.

Looking back 35 years, I am confronted with huge changes that have taken place in architecture. In the last several decades, goofy Post-Modernism has done its damage to architecture, and I believe to all art. Now science is developing so quickly that it is difficult to see what direction architecture will take.

The computer makes it possible to design buildings of complexity formerly impossible. Now buildings are made with shapes that once could not have been described on paper, much less built. The Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain, is such a building. Are its spaces friendly to humans? Does it work for the display of paintings? Or is it simply a huge advertisement, a tour de force symbol for a city, as the Eiffel Tower is for Paris? How will its titanium skin weather? One must see the building to make any real judgment, because most of the architectural press is full of blather and hype. This architecture could be the future. I hope it is. Computer design will require more talent and good judgment than we used before.

For most of the architects who must produce the everyday work of the world, those who are not media stars, architecture’s lack of an accepted modern direction is a cultural flaw that drives architects to do meaningless, irrelevant work, as evidenced by our disturbing commercial corridors. Many architects become plan services for the unknowledgeable. The results can be seen all about us in the creation of whatever badly crafted “style” the client may have thought he or she wanted. Some 60 years ago the schools quit training in the classics (the so-called Beaux Arts approach), so the formal discipline which once attended Mediterranean-style buildings, say, or Georgian, or whatever, is today gone.

So now we see “McMansions,” a sort of pastiche of what the untutored think is classical. Some governments want to solve the strip mall aesthetic by assigning a “style” to a community, not understanding that now no one is trained to do “styles” well, or that in today’s world doing “styles” right is unaffordable, for to do the detail and proportion correctly is enormously expensive.

That’s the reason modern architecture was invented in the last century, and that’s the architecture anybody under 70 is trained for today. It is sad to see young architects betray their training and ideals to earn a living. I look back 40 years ago to the joy we had here then, doing our best work, our pleasure in the work, making it not labor at all, but a way of life. We weren’t getting rich, but we had a hell of a fine time, and we thought we were rich.

There are more fine young contemporary architect-designers in Sarasota now than ever before (the community is, after all, some 15 times as large as at the time of which I write), and Sarasota certainly reaps more than its share of architectural awards these days. The Fine Arts Society is raising public awareness of design with a symposium in November 2001. The designers in my former firm delight me with their work on my weekly visits. The Sarasota School of Architecture lives!

For more information, please visit www.saf-srq.org to learn more about Sarasota’s architectural legacy and the Sarasota School of Architecture. Email: info@saf-srq.org