Is it wrong to be Wright?

Last week, I took a trip to western Pennsylvania to enjoy the many delights of the Laurel Highlands. This was to include Fallingwater, the famous Frank Lloyd Wright creation. It’s worth seeing, but strikes me more as a lesson in managing specialized talent, or ego, than the epitome of residential design.

For context, my base of operations was Nemacolin. This resort provided contrast to Wright’s organic architecture. Joe Brady is more of the school, “whatever the best costs, we can spend more.” If you don’t find yourself on the short list to weekend at Buckingham Palace, Nemacolin is a good way to salve your wounds. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t lavish naked opulence upon myself, but the occasion merited it.

Fallingwater is right up the road from Brady’s homage to excess. It’s a windy, mountain road, which puts you in the proper frame of mind. From the visitors center, you follow a wooded path to Fallingwater, which you catch sight of from the opposite bank of Bear Run.

The view bodes well. The horizontal layers fairly cascade down the side of the gorge. That was almost the case, as I was to learn.

Our group met the guide on the foot bridge over Bear Run. She launched into a history of the house, addressing the obvious question. If you had purchased property with a waterfall, as Edgar Kaufmann had, why not build a house just downstream of it, instead of hovering over, so you’d have a great view? That was Kaufmann’s intent, but Wright talked him into the cantilevered approach on top of the falls, which precludes a dramatic view.

To “enjoy” the falls, a platform was suspended from underneath the lowest deck. I don’t know if I’d be less inclined to dip into frigid mountain water in a permanently shaded area or plunge into moving water just above a falls.

The guide transitioned into the rules and regs. The doorways were intentionally designed to be tight, so take care that your buckles, buttons, etc. didn’t scratch the wood. Also, Wright designed most of the furniture, which was largely veneer over plywood and somewhat fragile. Do not touch anything, much less sit or lean on it. A member of the group wondered aloud why you would go to this extent and then elect plywood furnishings. I was struggling to fit plywood into the organic scheme of things.

The guide had not exaggerated about the diminutive doorways. She went on to explain that Wright wanted you to feel like you were exploding into a room. That might be novel up to the point where you wanted to change some furniture around or just walk through a doorway without carefully lining up your trajectory.

To maintain the part-of-nature ambiance, the interior is stone and wood. Also, limited by a 6’ ceiling with elevated, slot-like windows in areas. Natural feel, if you’re a bat. Welcome to the bunker. The furniture was built low, because Wright wanted you to see nothing but trees if you looked out the high windows. Or, if you were standing, the design forced you to look outside. If I want to look outside, I’ll look outside. How about some light, in case I’m inside and want to look inside?

Yes, I know Wright’s hailed as one of the greatest architects of all time, but if I’m cutting the check, I draw the line where art butts heads with lifestyle. In this vein, Kaufmann wanted four garages. Wright pooh-poohed that, saying that doors and walls were unnecessary because the cars were going nowhere without drivers. He gave Kaufmann open carports instead. Nothing says “organic” like an exposed brace of Buicks.

All of this is a matter of the artistic eye. What isn’t is that the house cost $115,000 to build, and a hundred times that to prevent it from breaking up and sliding into the creek. It started to list almost before it was done.

It’s not like the flaws in design weren’t obvious. Kaufmann’s engineers warned him that it was structurally unsound. Experienced construction workers refused to knock out temporary wooden supports when some sections were completed. Instead, they winched them out from a safe position off to the side. Maybe it’s just me, but if I’m having a house built and the people putting it together refuse to stand under the roof, I’m going to have some serious reservations.

The engineering flaws manifested themselves as cracks and fissures. These were portals for snakes and rodents, as well as the water running down the walls of the gorge. Nothing sets off a vacation retreat like a field mouse splashing through a puddle in the living room.

It does have its touches, especially incorporating the existing rock structure. And, I would allow that it is a work of art. But, my idea of architectural genius is something that requires less than ten million bucks to prevent it from collapsing under its own weight.

A few miles down the road is Kentuck Knob, another Wright creation. It is a lot more livable. My opinion is that the livability is a credit to I. N. Hagan (the original owner) digging his heels in when it came to making some design calls.

Wright set out to design one of his Usonian creations and the original drawings called for a 1,200 s.f. structure. Usonian was Wright’s movement to design housing that almost anyone could afford.

That might be fine if you’re wedging a few hundred prefabs into a Levittown plat. But, if I’m laying out the kind of jack it takes to secure one of the prime mountaintops in the range, I might want to splurge a wee bit. The Hagans appear to have agreed with me and coerced Frank into doubling the space.

They didn’t hold firm enough, however. The knob summit overlooks the spectacular panorama of the Youghiogheny River Gorge. However, Wright said that you don’t build houses on a mountaintop because it ruins the mountaintop. You build in its side.

Excuse me, Frankie, but I just coughed up a mountain of currency for this mountaintop with the whole point of the exercise to have a mountaintop view. I did not pay the premium to look at the unspoiled knob. I paid it for the view from the knob, so put it up there. Thank you very much.

Mrs. Hagan did take on Wright in at least one area, the kitchen. Many of his kitchens seem to be an afterthought, if not something designed for a lowly retainer. You may not be far off course to link this to Wright’s numerous wives and paramours. While Kentuck Knob’s kitchen is somewhat spare in area, it resembles a World’ Fair exhibit in advanced gadgetry of the time. And, everything is still functional, attesting to the quality.

And, the present owner of Kentuck Knob still uses the home on occasion, especially for guests. This speaks to the more pragmatic nature of this creation.

Fallingwater is a sight to see if you’re a fan of art. Or, Howard Roark.