Off Topic: The Farnsworth House

Someone reminded me of one of my favorite touring destinations in Chicagoland: the Farnsworth House, just south of Plano, IL.  The drive itself is only OK.  The Fox River Valley is mostly straight, flat, and densely populated, with few twisties.  But the destination is worth the trip.

The house was done by architect Mies van der Rohe, for Edith Farnsworth between 1945 and 1951.  Along with Philip Johnson's "Glass House" (done for himself) and a number of office towers, it has become an icon of the Minimalist School.  Minimalism was famously summed up by Mies as "Less is more."

A digital rendering/enhancement of the Farnsworth House.  This "cleans it up" by removing a large Oak tree
that both Mies and Farnsworth left standing.  Their idea was to "bring the outside in" by maximizing the
features of the natural setting.  But this rendering highlights the look Mies was going for, for the house itself. 

The Farnsworth House as it really looks in autumn.  It was intended to "float" in the landscape.  Interestingly, the
approach to the house--the way you were meant to first see it--is from the river.  Edith Farnsworth didn't own a boat.
Her garage was up the hill (a good ways) behind the house.  The house was sited for maximum visual impact.

Minimalism can be seen as an architectural counterpart to car-styling preferences.  People who like knotty-pine paneling and embroidered samplers find minimalism austere and cold.  If they care about cars at all, they like cars that make an emotional statement.  For people who prefer minimalism (like me), the kitsch of a "homey home" is clutter.  Minimalists say "If it's not functional, out it goes."  At one extreme, automotively speaking, we have what General Motors offered 1958-59.  At the other, in the same era, we have the Italian School: PininFarina and Bertone.

Edith Farnsworth was a single, middle-aged, "liberated," woman with a thriving medical practice in Chicago which allowed her to indulge her tastes.  She asked Mies to do a weekend getaway cottage for the Fox River frontage she owned.  Even though their tastes were in synch, it was an unhappy professional (and gossip said personal) relationship.  It eventually resulted in a lawsuit for over-billing and inadequate provision for practicalities, which Mies won.  An example: the screens for the porch never worked properly.  Frank Lloyd Wright's houses caused similar complaints from their owners.  His houses were expensive to maintain, if they could be maintained at all without constant rebuilding.  When you're rich, and want to indulge your tastes and ego by hiring a famous architect, bring even more money and aspirin than you'd planned, for his ego.

Another problem: although Mies read the Fox River flood studies, and placed the house above the highest water levels
then recorded, the Farnsworth House has flooded three times, twice in recent years.  The worst took water to a foot above
the floor.  With buried power lines and utilities in the "central core" which drops below floor level, flooding is even more
 consequential than it would normally be.  But the reflection makes a great picture.

Another rear view: two small bathrooms, the kitchen (seen here), and a fireplace (opposite) surround all utilities in the
"central core," which itself runs about the width of the kitchen.  This is a small, one-bedroom house (about 1500 sq. ft.).

The "living room" of this open-plan house.  Furniture designed by Mies.  Smoke from the fireplace (left) discolored
the beautiful wood of the cabinets because he didn't provide for enough draft with an "unsightly" chimney.  A clever
feature was to heat the entire stone floor (electrically) to avoid ugly forced air vents.  This works fine in a moderate
climate.  A bone of contention between Mies and Farnsworth was the wardrobe in the background.  Mies felt that it
blocked the view; Farnsworth needed space for her clothes.  He relented--this time--and did the wardrobe for her.   

One reason the Farnsworth House took so long to complete was that Mies and Farnsworth took pains with the smallest details and the design went through several refinements.  Mies revised the details of proportions and the central core in minor ways several times, although the size and look of the house was not changed.  Construction was complex too.  The basic structure is a single welded-up steel frame, so care had to be taken with window fitment (especially at the four corners).  Everything in the house (including the steel for the frame) was manufactured to special order with the exception of minor items like sinks, a bathtub, and some appliances.

Top to bottom: 1) Preliminary Plan I, 2) Preliminary Plan II, 3) Final Plan, 4) as lived
in by Edith Farnsworth, 5) as used by the second owner.  The house is now owned
by the National Trust For Historic Preservation and is on the U.S. National Register
Of Historic Places.

Obviously personal privacy is not a hallmark of the design.  But Farnsworth's lot was a large one (about 20 acres), and the house is sited so that it can be seen only from the river.  Sixty years ago, the Fox had much less recreational use than it does today.  Farnsworth and the subsequent private owner allowed a few smaller trees and some low scrub growth to reclaim the river bank, providing privacy that the glass walls don't.  She used the house frequently until she retired, when she lived there full time until her death.

If you're interested in minimalist architecture and are in the Chicago area, you can visit the Farnsworth House; Google its website for information.