Whoa. Do I actually like modern architecture?

8 November 2013

It’s no secret that I love good architecture.  Everybody knows that.  Most people also know that I love the architecture of the end of the 19th century and first decade of the twentieth, and especially American architecture.  I’m not a huge fan of the 1920s and 30s, though I will admit that there is some stuff from that period that I actually like… just not as much as the late 19th century.  

By the 1920s in France an architect going by the name Le Corbusier (though his real name was Charles-Édouard Jeanneret) was really making a name for himself designing very modern, sleek buildings in a style that would soon become known as the International Style.  With their flat, white-painted facades, lack of ornamentation, and modern building materials, these structures were altogether unlike accepted architectural norms.  

In 1923, just a five minute walk from where I am in Paris, Le Corbusier (Corb) started on a project for a man named Raoul Albert La Roche.  Interestingly, apparently around the same time that La Roche approached Corb, Corb’s own brother also approached the architect about designing a house for him, and these two houses ended up being placed at the end of a cul de sac in Paris’ 16th arrondissement, where they share a party wall. 

The cul-de-sac from the street.  

At the very bottom you see these two very modern houses.  Dorothy, we're not in Kansas anymore!

Today the Jeanneret house is the home to the offices of the Fondation Le Corbusier while the La Roche house is open to the public.  Luckily, however, because of its location and because Le Corbusier is largely unknown by the masses, the Maison La Roche is a fairly quiet museum unless, as I found when I arrived, there is a group of middle school children running rampant.  Luckily for me, they left soon after I started my visit.  

Because of the weather, which was grey and dismal when I arrived, I decided to start with the interior of the house and then hopefully the rain would stop when I was done and I could look around the outside without being soaked.  Unfortunately, when I arrived the man told me that the visit was self guided and he handed me a brochure in French of the house, which confused me because the website said there was a guided tour in English on Tuesdays.  I politely asked for an English version of the brochure instead, because I thought I might want to send it on to a favorite professor of mine afterwards.  Now I cannot figure out why, at this point, he didn’t tell me that there was an English tour that would take place shortly, but about twenty minutes later I head people talking in English and it was the English tour guide, with a French accent.  Since I had already seen a good part of the house, I decided I would come to the lobby, join the group, and then do the tour with them to see what I could learn.  

Normally I’m not a huge fan of guided tours, but since it was Le Corbusier and I was already far from my comfort zone, I thought I should really go all the way and do the tour as well.  While the tour wasn’t groundbreaking, it was a lot better than other tours I’ve witnessed.  The tour guide clearly adored Corb in a way that seemed almost religious, and I think that is really important.  

When you enter the house, you walk into a large room, three floors high that really isn’t very deep.  In fact it’s small.  There’s a door the left and to the right as you enter, but you look at a blank wall.  Up above you is an overhanging balcony and there are some walls with cutouts in them, but it’s almost unsettling.  According to the guide, this was the purpose: to throw you off a bit.  The guide also said that Le Corbusier wanted Mr. La Roche to be able to have a sort of theatrical entry, which is why the overhanging balcony existed.  This way he could have his staff open the door and he could make a grand entry from the next level up and invite them up to that level, which was the level of the dining room and art gallery, which were on opposite sides of the atrium-like entry, connected by a bridge.  

Entry hall

The art gallery, which I just found to be an amazing room, is at the top of the stairs and is sort of strangely shaped, with one curved wall and one flat wall, which has almost no windows.  (Obviously windows would get in the way of hanging space for art.)  It has a small fireplace and a ramp that goes to the library on the next level up.  According to the guide, the ramp was used by Le Corbusier because he felt that it allowed the two different floors to feel as though they were one floor; stairs very clearly break up the layers of a house, while the ramp sort of bridges the gap between the floors.  What really shocked me about the gallery was how colorful it was.  In my head the work of Le Corbusier was monochromatic: white.  Oh no.  In the gallery alone I counted at least seven different colors being used.  Some of them were various shades of the same color, but they were different. The floor was a sort of pink color (a rubber chosen by Le Corbuser when he did renovations to the house in 1928), the ramp was a chocolatey brown, certain features were a battleship grey, blue was used on the light fixture (also a 1928 addition by Corb), the table was black and had black tiles beneath it,  and the walls weren’t all the same color.  Luckily, paint analysis in the last few years has allowed the foundation to repaint the rooms in the same colors that Corb chose originally, and it provides a very interesting insight in the style.  The gallery also has three of the very few pieces of art in the entire house.  They are all large paintings by Le Corbusier, himself and, while not my personal favorite of styles, they work perfectly in the space.  Likewise, I’m not the biggest Picasso or Braque fan, but Mr. La Roche was, and I totally understand how these artists and their work fit into the space.

I dont understand why they placed the settee in front of the door because the original photos don't show it that way, and it totally blocks the door.  The little thing to the right is the fireplace with the slide-down doors typical of French fireplaces.  The rounded column like thing is the chimney.  Sleek, huh?

As I started going up the ramp to the top level and its library, I encountered a problem.  The ramp was so steep that it was actually a challenge to ascend.  Of course, I should mention that visitors are forced to put on little blue hospital booties so there is no tread on your feet, but still.  It was hard!  The ramp was slippery and super steep!  I made it, nonetheless, to the library and it was a really interesting space.  It opened into both the central atrium and the art gallery, but was largely hidden when you were in either space.  In fact, according the guide, Mr. La Roche liked the library more than any other space in the house because it was so private and he could remain totally unseen there.  Interestingly, the bookcases in this room are concrete, and are actually part of the architecture!  I guess there was never a fear of overloading a shelf if they built the bookcases of concrete, though photos of the house while it was lived in show some free-standing bookcases as well.  

Corb-designed chair in the library

View across the atrium from the library. Notice how the ceiling heights block out the heads of the people on the other side of the atrium, headed to the bedroom.  Sort of unnerving, isn't it?  But cool, too.

Sliding back down the ramp (literally) and walking through the gallery, I took the bridge across the open atrium to the dining room. In actuality it’s not so much a bridge as it is a catwalk because it is against one of the exterior walls of the building.  BUT… what makes it feel like a bridge is the fact that the exterior wall is almost entirely glass!  It’s interesting because this huge wall of glass lights the entire entryway/atrium, but when you walk into the house all you see are solid walls.  

The bridge looking toward the art gallery which is to the left and the library which is at the top.  Notice how the interior color isn't quite white, it's a pale beige.  This was also the original color of the exterior of the house.

Another view of the bridge and the art gallery, with its high windows.

The dining room really wasn’t very large at all and, again breaking with my interpretation of Corb’s work, wasn’t white.  It was sort of a café au lait color, and quite small too, with an attached smaller butler’s pantry and dumbwaiter from the ground floor kitchen.  Like most of the rooms in the house it was largely unfurnished, having only a barbarian (the guide’s word, not mine) carpet, a dining room table, and four French café style chairs, painted grey.  The table was designed by Le Corbusier for this particular room, while the chairs are average café chairs from the time, painted the same grey as the radiators to make them different and more industrial.  The guide had a special term for this, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it was now.  Attached to the dining room toward the rear of the house was a small terrace which I suppose could serve as an extension of the dining room during nice weather, which is nice.  With nothing on the walls, you really had a chance to look at the details of the room, and I was really impressed.  Take the light fixtures for example, those on the walls, not the bulbs hanging from the ceilings (which is exactly the way it was in Corb’s original design).  The wall fixtures are the same fixtures used throughout the house and they are a Corb design.  Apparently, according to the guide, Corbusier wanted something unique so he got glass vials at the pharmacy and used them as inspiration for the outer part of his light fixture.  In the center is, I guess, some sort of neon or fluorescent light, but it is hidden by the outer part.  

Corb-designed wall light

Above the dining room was the “purist bedroom,” Mr. LaRoche’s bedroom, bathroom, and dressing room, which are all empty now except for a reproduction table in Mr. La Roche’s bedroom.  Once again, the attention to detail is very impressive and it’s all you have to look at since the house is empty.  

La Roche table in the Purist bedroom

Corb-designed door handle

Staircase headed up to the bedroom

One detail that I really loved throughout the house were the windows, which I could tell were swinging windows from the hardware.  What I didn’t realize, however, was that they pivoted on their center rather than swung open from one side.  I think it’s such a cool idea.  Of course, it would never work in the US because we have lots of flying bugs but, for whatever reason, France doesn’t really have that issue, so window screens are not a priority.  Corb also took the time to consider the impact of rain coming in through the giant pivoting windows and made the windowsills concave to collect the water before it dripped down the walls.  But… better than that… he included weep holes so whatever water was collected inside would end up back outside.  How clever is that?!  It’s so much like a boat and it makes such good sense.  Of course, Corb was also fascinated with ocean liners because of their beauty, grace, and efficiency, so it’s not a huge shocker to see nautical details, but the fact that he considered the negative impact of water sitting on a painted concrete surface really shows what a comprehensive architect he was. 

View down into the atrium from just outside the bedroom.  Luckily there is a stainless steel net to keep you from falling out of the hallway, which wasn't a Corb-approved change.

Above this bedroom is the rooftop terrace, a signature feature for Le Corbusier, who felt that people living in his houses should go to the rooftop terrace and do exercises.  Unfortunately the rooftop terrace was closed to visitors, but I did get a chance to look it over and my consensus is that it would be much better suited to cocktails than exercising.  The only issue would be coming back downstairs because the staircase is a bit steep and narrow.  

Back on the ground floor, there was only one space that I had not yet visited: the service area.  Like many houses in Paris of the time, the Maison La Roche was equipped with large room where his butler and maid/cook could live, which happened to be attached to the kitchen.  Unfortunately no photos of this sleeping/living room for the staff have been found to show it as it was originally furnished, but it is a very strangely shaped room and I spent a fair amount of time trying to envision how two people lived and worked out of that space.  Better yet, the original paint scheme shows that it was orange and green - not exactly dim colors - and I really wonder how those colors played into Corb’s idea of how the space should be laid out and used, because I’m sure he chose the colors for a reason.  From there I went into the kitchen which was miniscule.  Just tiny.  And everything seemed very inconvenient.  The counter was at a very strange height - just barely too low - and was oddly deep.  The cupboards were huge and went all the way to the ceiling and were varnished plywood, which stood in stark contrast to the rest of the room, which was very white and sanitary.  In total, the kitchen seemed to me to be almost non-Corbusian because it was so awkward and non-efficient seeming.  

The frosted glass panel at the left is the back side of the dumbwaiter from the kitchen to the butler's pantry above.

With the interior of the house fairly well investigate, I was just getting ready to get my jacket on as the door opened and 30 French art students were standing outside, waiting to come inside to draw the house.  Well I certainly know an opportunity when I see it, and I knew this was a perfect opportunity to get out of the house.  Not that it wasn’t great, but it definitely was not big enough for all of these students.  Plus, it was finally getting nice out so I could take some photos of the exterior of the building, which proved difficult because of the placement of the building on the lot and the way it is shaped.  Although the house is now painted white, investigations carried out at the same time that the interior colors were researched showed the the exterior was not originally white.  In fact, it was the same off-white greyish color of some of the interior spaces.  By next year the Foundation will have the exterior repainted to match its original colors.  

The grayish color is the original paint color.

The art gallery from outside

The La Roche house starts at the left hand garage door and goes to the left, while everything from the right is the Jeanneret house.

Jeanneret house

Having spent an entire afternoon thinking about 1920s architecture, I was really beginning to question who I was as a student of architectural history.  And more importantly: did I just like a piece of modern architecture?  Whoa… That’s deep, man.