Join us for the fourth annual SarasotaMOD Weekend – tickets go on sale August 15th
The Sarasota Architectural Foundation (SAF) presented homeowner Dr. Barry LaClair with a framed poster of the Cocoon House, aka Healy Guest House, signed by the illustrator and designer John Pirman. This famous Sarasota School home was designed in 1950 by Ralph Twitchell and Paul Rudolph, and is on SAF’s Top Ten Must-See List of midcentury modern buildings in Sarasota, Florida. The house will be featured on trolley tours during SAF’s fourth annual architecture festival, SarasotaMOD, November 10-12, 2017. Event tickets go on sale August 15, 2017. SarasotaMOD.com
Proceeds from the Cocoon House poster benefit SAF’s ongoing programs and will be on sale at the MOD Shop during SarasotaMOD Weekend. For sales inquiries, please email info@SAF-SRQ.org.
Did You Know: In 1953, the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) in New York City selected the Cocoon House as one of the 19 examples of houses built after World War II as a pioneer design of the future.
The cantilevered roof has steel straps fastened to flexible insulation boards that maintains its curved catenary shape with a sprayed on “cocoon” roofing material.
On Monday, June 12, the Sarasota Architectural Foundation (SAF) announced the 2017 winners of the sixth annual SAF-Paul Rudolph Scholarships. The awards presentation took place at Ringling College of Art + Design’s Academic Center, Room 207, from 5:30 to 7 pm.
Maxwell Strauss – $5,000 college scholarship
Sarasota Christian School graduate
Bachelor’s Savannah College of Art and Design, Savannah, Georgia
Will attend the University of Texas, Austin
Bailey Jordan – $1,000 college scholarship
Venice Senior High School graduate
Will be attending the University of Notre Dame, IN
Emily Cain – $500 college scholarship
Pine View School graduate
Will be attending Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy, NY
Morgan Ann Mulholland – $500 college scholarship
Lakewood Ranch High School graduate
Will be attending both Santa Fe College and University of Florida, Gainesville, FL
About the SAF – Paul Rudolph Scholarship Awards
Since 2012, SAF and the Michael Kalman Foundation has awarded $36,262.00 to twelve Florida high school graduates enrolled in a NAAB-accredited professional degree (5-year BA or BA + MA) in architecture. Applicants must be a graduate of a Sarasota, Manatee, Pinellas, Hillsborough, Charlotte, Lee or Collier County, Florida High School and in need of financial assistance.
About Paul Rudolph
Born in 1918, Paul Rudolph studied with Bauhaus architect Walter Gropius at Harvard Graduate School of Design and was later Dean of the School of Architecture at Yale University. Buildings of his design can be found in cities around the world, including New York, Boston, Fort Worth, Singapore, Hong Kong and Jakarta. He continued to design buildings into the 1990s, and died in 1997 at the age of 79.
Rudolph, beginning his career in Sarasota, Florida, was one of the most influential architects in all of Florida in the 1950s and was the lead figure in the Sarasota School of Architecture Movement. Among his many award-winning Florida buildings include the Walker Guest House (1952, Sanibel Island), Umbrella House (1953, Sarasota) Sarasota High School Addition (1958, Sarasota), Deering Residence (1959, Casey Key) and Milam Residence (1961, Ponta Vedra).
For more information, please visit https://saf.wildapricot.org/scholarship
A look inside Paul Rudolph’s masterfully crafted Harkavy House.
At first glance, Paul Rudolph’s Harkavy House is shielded behind latticework lashes, the exterior belying the depth within. Built almost like a Japanese Shinto shrine with overhangs like a warrior’s outstretched arms flying out from either side—the easternmost hidden by the late-2000s addition—the Harkavy House’s interior warrants a sharp inhale upon entering, as you are met with 365 degrees of pure light shining unfiltered into the grand living space.
Janet Minker, chair of the board of the Sarasota Architectural Foundation (SAF), notes that like in all Rudolph designs, he begins with “one small detail and then everything else builds on it.” Here, the building blocks come from walls that aren’t walls, constructed on a symmetrical grid system. Dr. Christopher S. Wilson, a professor of architecture at Ringling College and an SAF board member, says Rudolph would set up a grid that would follow through the entirety of the design. “In the Harkavy House,” he says, “it’s a three-part grid.” In the belly of that grid lies the living area; the rectangular space bordered on the left and right by high-walled sliders, the front wrapped in floor-to-ceiling windows, with ceilings throughout the house held up by long white beams like ribs. What are seemingly solid walls take on the essence of Japanese fusama, sliding walls that open onto a secondary space—in this case, the lush outside. Open both the east and west walls and the living room and kitchen become bathed in a tropical glow, the amount of space itself almost doubled. Though awe-inspiring, the home feels innately comfortable—nothing is so dainty that it may break by simply looking at it, the bones of the structure industrial, hardy and usable.
The home is wrapped in a sort of lattice, a screen, Wilson explains, that helped to provide shade (and privacy) before the days of air conditioning. Go up the original stairs to witness the next parts of the grid; head left into the addition—the wide bay window of the bedroom looks out onto the pool through the crisscrossed lens of the sunscreen, the once visible from the outside arms of the overhang at eye level here. Look down and you’ll see the two-by-fours holding the house up sit perched on cannonballs, a characteristic pulled from the Walker Guest House. Head right off the stairs and you’ll be met with the two original bedrooms, both modest in size, one typified by Rudolph’s classic built-ins, the other by the lattice wrap on the exterior, where sliders open to nothing but a thin screen and salty air. Of the house, Minker puts it simply: “It’s pure Rudolph.”
Visit the Walker Guest House on the grounds of The Ringling Museum to see a tiny house with minimalist design.
Beach houses started out as a way to live simply, stay close to nature and block out the stressful world. But beach houses, like so many other mid-century concepts, have evolved and not necessarily in a good way.
The architect Paul Rudolph developed a reputation for designing mid-century modernist residential homes, many in Sarasota and the surrounding area, featuring geometric forms and dynamic interiors influenced by the Bauhaus School of Design. In 1952 he designed and built a true beach house for Dr. Walter Walker on a piece of property on Sanibel Island. The Walker Guest House, as it is known, is unique in many ways, and its tiny house minimalist design is a teaching moment in what relaxed living really is.
The house is 576 square feet and measures 24 by 24, with a combination of screens and glass walls that can be covered with plywood panels operated on a counterweight system fitting together like a puzzle. Rudolph was a naval architect who used that experience in the Walker house design; he even uses boat cleats inside the house to tie off the wood panels when they were in the raised position.
The interior of the house is a flow of space with one bedroom and one bath, an open living
area and galley kitchen. The structure is elevated off the ground and is compared to a crouching spider in the sand. Rudolph said, “With all of the panels lowered the house is a snug cottage, but when the panels are raised it becomes a large screened pavilion.”
I happen to know about this wonderful one of a kind house because I attended a lecture at the Ringling Museum regarding Paul Rudolph and specifically the Walker Guest House and subsequently toured a duplicate of the home on the museum grounds.
The duplicate at Ringling is the exact size and structure as the original, and except for a few interior modifications, is identical to the Walker property, which I believe still exists on Sanibel Island. I also learned at the lecture that this modern home was one of Paul Rudolph’s favorite projects.
I found this to be an educational experience and encourage anyone who is interested in home design to take a ride over to the Ringling and walk through the house. It is a fun and interactive experience that you can participate in through April of next year without paying an entrance fee to the museum. Paul Rudolph died in 1997, but thanks to the Sarasota Architectural Foundation and The Ringling Museum, one of his iconic projects continues to be an inspiration.
There has been a lot of discussion recently about mid-century design in homes, and indeed Anna Maria Island has many homes built in the 1950s. Hopefully some of these properties will survive and retain their beach house character and mid-century values. In the meantime, you can always check out the “crouching spider in the sand,” an elegant tiny house.
More information, visit SAF-SRQ.org/WalkerGuestHouse
Carl Abbott brings an architect’s insight to the legacy of the Maya
Carl Abbott is a thoroughly modern architect, a working practitioner of the Sarasota School of Architecture. He’s not a Luddite or the architectural equivalent of Indiana Jones. Abbott looks to architecture’s future. But he also sees surprising echoes of that future in the past.
Ancient architecture fascinates him — Maya structures most of all.
We speak about it at his north Sarasota offices, a low-slung complex on a sprawling tract of land off Whitaker Bayou. It looks like a jungle. It’s easy to imagine a Maya temple rising up in the distance.
I tell him that. Abbott smiles and says, “Sure.” He politely adds that, outside of the fakery of Disney World, a Maya structure wouldn’t really work in Florida. They exist in context. Specific buildings, designed for specific sites.
Well, by definition every building relates to its site. But some do it better than others. Frank Lloyd Wright was the modern architect who did it best. The relationship of structure to site was the foundation of his organic architecture. Abbott follows in Wright’s footsteps with his insistence that every building be “informed by the land.”
A very modern principle. And an ancient one, as Abbott discovered in 1976.
That’s when he and his two young sons traveled to the Yucatan to experience the architectural legacy of the Maya.
“I thought they’d be excited,” he says. “But I was more excited than they were. I could see that the Maya buildings were tied to the sun, to the stars, to the form of the land itself. There was a whole spatial vocabulary and set of connections.”
Abbott had detected a Mayan resonance with the principles of modernist architecture, and his own work. “I realized that what the Maya were doing was very close to what I was doing. Of course, they did it first, thousands of years ago.”
In the years that followed, Abbott explored the Mayan connection.
It started with research and occasional trips. About a decade ago, those trips became more frequent. The architect teamed up with archeologists and anthropologists. This dream team of Ph.D.s includes New College professor Tony Andrews; Millsaps professor George Bey; Davidson College professor Bill Ringle; Tomás Negrón, an archaeological researcher at Mexico’s National Institute of Archaeology and History; and Patricia Plunket, a professor at the University of the Americas (and Sarasota writer Bob Plunket’s sister).
They’re the top specialists in their fields. And far more likely to contribute to National Geographic than Architectural Digest. But Abbott has an architect’s eye. And he saw things they didn’t.
“I’d point something out,” he says. “The initial response was, ‘Abbott, you’re crazy.’ But they finally realized I was onto something.”
The architect has shared his insights at the Maya at the Playa international conference, and at slideshow lectures around Florida and the nation. He shared his insights with me—in a highly simplified form.
Here’s an overview of the Mayan/modernist connection:
Relate to the Land
Before designing for a site, Abbott always goes there in person. He’ll rent a bucket crane to see what it looks like from different elevations. Work out the permutations of sun, wind and view for a structure that doesn’t exist yet. It’s standard operating procedure. Or it should be.
Abbott lists examples of Western architects and city planners imposing Cartesian order whether the land likes it or not—and the disastrous results that followed. The Maya were the opposite. “Each Maya structure was different,” he says. “They specifically designed each structure for the contours and orientations of its site. The land always came first. The Maya had organizing principles, but they adapted their sense of order, never imposed it.”
Sun and Shadow
According to Abbott, any decent architect thinks about a building’s relationship to the sun. A good architect thinks about that relationship over time. His latest work in progress is one example — a beachfront house on Casey Key. The structure has two wings, each oriented to tap into the sun’s heat in the winter and offer shade in the summer. The view sides face the water, naturally. The building’s largest overhang directly faces the sun during the summer solstice, he says. “The shadow effect will be very dramatic.”
Abbott adds that it pales in comparison to what the Maya did at Chichen Itza, where every equinox, the stairs cast an undulating shadow resembling a snake as a tribute to Kukulkan, the serpent God.
“The level of engineering and astronomical awareness is astonishing,” he says.
Secrets and Surprises
Abbott lists other parallels between his work and the Maya’s surprisingly high-tech techniques. His stairway at the Dolphin house on Siesta Key is wider at the bottom than the top, creating the illusion of greater height. It’s called forced perspective, and the Maya beat him to it. Another technique? Rotating an element off a building’s dominant axis to create a sense of surprise. Abbott often skews floors at different angles from the building’s main orientation. The Maya did it with stairways and walls.
What’s going on, exactly?
It’s probably the most modern technique of all … mind games. “Psychology,” says Abbott. He says Maya buildings play with one’s perception. “Essentially, the structure creates a set of expectations in your mind, and then it does the unexpected.”
It’s something Abbott does in his own work. It takes one to know one, as they say.
“A static building is dead,” he says. “A building that surprises and engages you is alive. That’s what Wright, myself and others try to do. That’s what the Maya did, and it flowed out of their animist belief system. Their buildings weren’t dead stones; they were alive. That’s what they thought, and, in a sense, they were right. Centuries after they were built, the Maya structures still have life.”
Carl’s Upcoming 2016 Talks: Carl Abbott will speak about the sacred architecture of the Maya at the Florida American Institute of Architects convention July 22, 2016 in West Palm Beach and at the Sarasota Architectural Foundation’s (SAF) talk on August 4, 2016 at Ringling College of Art + Design (Click to buy advance tickets online).