Provocative, timely, and compellingly readable: this is an even more valuable survey than Victoria Newhouse’s 1998 study, Towards a New Museum (updated in 2007). There, she explored the relationship of art and architecture with a keen critical eye; now she adds the sense of hearing, examining the design and performance of new halls, as experienced by players and audience, and as they respond to (or ignore) their surroundings. It’s timely because, for better and worse, grandiose music venues have begun to supplant museums as must-have trophy buildings, even in China where they have no relevance to traditional culture and are often mis-used. It’s provocative, because Newhouse is unflinching in her criticisms, and it’s readable because she distills a mass of information and observation in lively prose.
There’s a historical survey of the musical theater, from ancient Greece to the 19th-century landmarks in Vienna, Amsterdam and Boston that provide a standard of excellence to which every new hall is compared. Then come chapters on the transformation of Lincoln Center, the eclecticism of recent work, the hubris of the Chinese authorities, and prestige projects in the making. Thirty new and upcoming projects are analyzed in detail, with input from musicians who have performed in these spaces, and the acousticians who worked on them. Newhouse questions the disconnect between boldly expressive architecture and conventional theater plans, and asks whether good design can rejuvenate the audience (as it clearly has in Gehry’s New World Center in Miami, and Walt Disney Hall). Her book will be an invaluable resource for architects, acousticians, clients, and music-lovers, and inspire everyone to look and listen with the passion she summons.
Early May brings two events that every architect and aficionado should try to attend. The AIA/LA Spring Home Tour on May 6 includes four exceptional properties in Pacific Palisades by Barbara Callas, William Hefner, Michael Lehrer and William Wagner (above). Sponsored by Gruen Associates, the tour offers a rare opportunity to view houses of great originality that are hidden away in canyons leading down to the ocean. For tickets and information, click here.
On May 8 at 7:30pm, LACMA hosts Jeanne Gang in its Distinguished Architects Lecture Series. Winner of the MacArthur “genius” award and head of Studio Gang Architects, she’s been acclaimed for the Aqua apartment tower—a stunning addition to the Chicago skylines.
Her collective of architects, designers and thinkers have enriched the fabric of their home city and created a rich array of provocative projects. These are chronicled in Reveal Studio Gang Architects (Princeton Architectural Press, $45) and the book makes one eager to witness her presentation. Tickets may be ordered by calling 323.857.6010 or at lacma.org. Parking in the Pritzker Garage on Sixth Street, east of Fairfax, is free after 7pm.
On my first trip to Venice in 1963, I arrived at 3am, dropped my bags at the hotel and strolled though the deserted city, delighting in the watery reflections and the skyline etched black against the pale light of dawn. I’ve never repeated that nocturnal exploration, but looking at Christopher Thomas’s magical images I think I shall. The German photographer went to live in Venice and every night he would set off with his large format camera and tripod to capture a specific view or detail in long exposures. Relying on street lamps, the moon, or the faint glow of dusk and dawn, he created monochromatic compositions of extraordinary beauty. Misty or pin-sharp, they show the piazza and the neighborhood campi, the canals and bridges, polished pavers and fanciful facades in all kinds of weather. There are no people. “It is an attempt to recover the serenity of Venice found in images from the nineteenth century and to release the city from mass tourism,” he writes.
All that needs to be said about Venice has already been written, as Goethe noted two centuries ago. The poems of Albert Ostermaier that are interleaved with the photographs are trifling. However it’s good to read the afterword by Antonio Foscari, an architect and professor who restored La Malcontenta, his family’s Palladian villa. He praises the “genial intuition” of Thomas that he could capture on film only one aspect of a city that eludes comprehension, even by those few residents whose roots run deep.
John Pawson, the British maestro of minimalism, famed for his refined white interiors and perfectly calibrated details, has created an album of personal snapshots. In the introduction he explains that photography is one of his compulsions: “if you don’t record everything, moments slip away and are lost forever.” Culling his collection of a quarter of a million images—an average of 85 a day since he bought his first digital camera in 2003— he has selected a modest 272, arranged in pairs on facing pages. He likens them to “an archive of a way of looking”, and it’s fascinating to see what caught his eye. There are a few recurring favorites—his own house in London, Woodland Cemetery in Stockholm, and Le Thoronet Abbey in Provence—but they are far outnumbered by chance encounters—the ordinary made extraordinary through meticulous framing. What links the landscapes and cloudscapes, the close-ups and aerial views, the textures of wood and stone, form and light, is geometric or organic pattern. He composes images as carefully as he creates interiors. This obsession is, he insists, “not so much a reflection of an ordered mind, as the need to control, as tightly as possible, those limited areas of life that can be controlled.” Even designers who shy away from that intensity will find inspiration and delight as they browse this elegant anthology.
A Visual Inventory John Pawson (Phaidon, $49.95)
Next time you are gridlocked on the 405, imagine an alternative LA: a city in which cars speed without stalling or colliding on a network of freeways that loop around an eclectic array of towers. Trains run on elevated tracks and the ground lies forgotten, far below. It’s the city that Filippo Marinetti conceived in his Futurist Manifesto and Fritz Lang brought to the screen in Metropolis. Eighty-five years later, Chris Burden has revived the concept as Metropolis II and this mesmerizing installation is on long-term loan to LACMA, a few steps from Urban Light, his forest of vintage street lamps. Orson Welles described the RKO Studio as “the greatest train set a boy ever had,” and Metropolis II is a kinetic toy to delight frustrated drivers and their offspring.