“The best architects have been artists first.”
There are times in your life when the artistic and the
personal seem to intersect in one person.
Bertram Grosvenor Goodhue is that intersection for me. His drawings were “love at first sight” for
me although they were intimidating. Youth
tends to search for roll models, putting much importance in superficial
similarities, and I am no Goodhue. But
there were parallels between our lives which made me feel closer to Goodhue
than to any other architect I studied.
Goodhue was a Connecticut Yankee, although he had nothing in
common with Mark Twain’s character in King Arthur’s Court. His family roots were deep in 17th
century New England, as are mine. He had
a Revolutionary War hero in the family; ditto there. And, he was a self taught artist who also
loved history. How could I not love the
guy.
However, unlike myself, Goodhue was poor, not formally
educated, and grew up in a quaint Connecticut town a century before I was
born. He began drawing regularly at the
age of ten, and by the age of 15 had developed a talent for drawing any sort of
building with charming ease. Being
poor, he apprenticed himself to a New York City architect as an office boy, but
he quickly advanced on the strength of his drawing. At age 18 his rendering of a House and Lodge
on the coast of Oregon (above) was published by Building
magazine. An amazing rise, and a totally
different path than I followed. I should
also add that Goodhue was a genius, which I am not.
At the age of 22 (1891) Goodhue won a competition for the
design of the Cathedral of St. Matthew in Dallas, Texas (above), and became a
partner with the firm of Cram & Wentworth in Boston. In a sense his career was settled, but in
other ways he was the most unsettled of young men. He hungered for recognition, being outside
the circle of Beaux Arts graduates and gentlemen architects. His childhood poverty drove him to produce
designs and drawings at a prodigious rate.
He was a functional manic personality, going from gregarious elation to
focused depression, while spinning off images which dazzled his co-workers and
clients.
That makes him sound like a candidate for the loony bin, but
he also had a steely self discipline and an absolute belief in his
abilities. And people came to love him
in spite of his sharpness and occasional severity. His genius was obvious, and people accommodated
his occasional quirks.
The previous two images are of All Saint’s Church in
Brookline Massachusetts, one of the first projects that he worked on as a
partner (the partnership soon became Cram, Goodhue and Ferguson, and would be
his base for the next 23 years). His
confidence, seen in the sure handling of the church’s complex form, is already
evident.
Goodhue’s early professional years (1894 to 1902) had the
usual “bread and butter” architectural work, but also involved site sketching
(above). In the end however, his
professional career was originally defined by the delightful imaginary places
he dreamed up and illustrated.
The “sinuous streets” of “Traumburg” in Bohemia was first. “In its humble way Traumburg is a very
complete example of the Mediaeval German spirit. By this admission I hope to disarm criticism
of my poor attempt to describe it. Let
it also be admitted, and at once, that in Germany there does not, and never
did, exist an architectural monument of the first class, - not even Cologne
Cathedral. But there is a certain
quality, it seems to me, in German work that should possess greater interest,
and for more people, than it apparently does.
I mean that quality that has given us the Teutonic Marschen – both for
children and for grown-ups – of which the chief component may, for lack of a
better term, be entitled the macabre.”
The “ancient” church of St. Kavin’s is an amazing conception
that would fit nicely in one of the Tolkien movies by Peter Jackson.
The detail above shows the mastery of
illusion that Goodhue had reached at age 27. Note also the beautiful
vignette composition making the church and landscape describe an elegant arc.
Another, more “touristic” view of the town. Note the stork on the chimney. “Traumburg,
A small but very ancient town, about twenty miles from the
seacoast. Chief place in the county of
the same name lying between Grunefwald and Ruritania.”
St. Kavin’s from the cloister-garth. “The Church is of little interest to the
ordinary tourist because of its lack of unity, and is but rarely visited, owing
to the fact that no railway passes within a number of miles.”
The fantasy for 1897 was “Villa Fosca and its Garden”, which
had “hitherto escaped the observation of serious writers”
Again, the dream was developed both generally and in detail,
with an inimitable sense of place. “Along
the southern face of the simpler pergola which encloses the kitchen gardens,
and descending by slow degrees to the bay, is a ramp, crossed at intervals by
winding pathways, all of which converge after long and intentionally mazy
wanderings, at the Tenietto di Venere, which, like the billiard hall, is
another triumph of the baroque.” Goodhue
has a way with veiled sarcasm.
Finally, in 1899 he invented the Italian hill town of
“Monteventoso”. In his words: “It is but
a poor place, this Monteventoso, and scarce worth discovering.”
“…despite the announcement, made by the proprietor of the
‘Albergo Della Ruota’, that in Monteventoso were to be found ‘notable’
buildings, the author must beg leave to deny any complicity in the statement.”
“As elsewhere, all the life and most of the interest of the
town centre about the piazza, in spite of the fact that the principal structure,
the church of St. Catherine, is perched on the hillside some little distance
above.”
Goodhue goes on with 15 pages of delightful sketches and
travel writing (with local gossip and traditional stories thrown in for good
measure).
His explorations were sometimes more prosaic in nature. For instance, above are two iconic “country
churches” he produced in the same time period as his exotic travel sketches. But even here is found whimsy; the tombstone
reads, “B. G. G. deit MDCCCXCIX.”
Goodhue’s last imaginary journey was to Shiraz, Persia,
where he set his story “Of Persian Gardens”.
“…but the poetry is here, and the mystery, and above all
else, the art – an art and craft of garden making no less perfect than that of
Italy, but set in the midst of surroundings as different as east is from west.”
The pencil sketch above entitled “A Castle in the forest of
Arden” seems imaginary, but is related to a proposed house for E.H. Harriman,
in Arden, NY. And so, Goodhue continues
his habit of mixing the imaginary ideal with the paid commission. It is also a clue to his rendering process: a
well developed pencil drawing followed by a freehand ink tracing. I would love to hear of other clues to his
approach to drawing.
Proposal for a church in Cleveland, Ohio
La Santisima Trinidad pro-cathedral in Havana.
Todos Santos, Guantanamo, Cuba. The poster being viewed says, “Cran runs with
bulls”. Goodhue apparently had a dry
sense of humor, as well as the admirable discipline to leave paper blank and
incomplete.
Proposed Episcopal Cathedral, Havana.
Proposed church in Winchester, Massachusetts. The gravestone reads; “This Stone marks the resting place of
B.G.G’s pen”.
St. John’s Church, West Hartford, Connecticut.
First Presbyterian Church of Rockaway, New York.
Proposed Chapel at St. John’s School, Manlius, New York.
There is a pattern in the preceding images, no? Goodhue liked the aesthetic possibilities of
church architecture, and his partner, Ralph Adams Cram, was enamored by
Anglo-Catholic liturgy and the architecture associated with it. Add in some high social connections and you
have a serious and growing practice.
Proposed Memorial Arch at the United States Military
Academy, West Point. This, and the
chapel following, were a part of an on-going relation with the Academy.
The Chapel at US Military Academy West Point; showing that
he could compose and render in pencil as brilliantly as he did in ink. The chapel was built, and is worth a visit.
The above three images are wonderful sketches. They are of a project (St. Thomas College,
Washington, DC) which I have not been able to locate in the 1983 list of his
projects. They are included in the 1914
book, but don’t show up anywhere else.
If anybody knows where this place is, I’d love to hear from you.
Perhaps Goodhue’s most famous project was St. Thomas’s
Church in New York City. This pencil
sketch of an early scheme shows a work in progress; the finished church is on
Fifth Avenue, and is one of the better examples of a formal appearing church in
a tight urban fabric.
By 1910 the practice had expanded beyond the east coast,
with several commissions in California.
Here is a pencil rendering of a cathedral and hospital in Los Angeles.
Here, an illustration of a different proposal for a
cathedral in Los Angeles.
And here, buildings for an international exhibition in San
Diego. These buildings are also extant
and are part of Balboa Park in the city.
Goodhue did a number of jobs in Minnesota (my home
state). Above is a delightfully domestic
house built on the shores of Lake Superior.
One big project that, sadly, was never built was the
Cathedral of the Incarnation in Baltimore.
Luckily, we have these three pencil renderings (below) of the
proposal. The conception is more
traditional than Goodhue normally liked, but they are all iconic images, and
can teach an illustrator a lot about composition and value.
Besides churches and cathedrals, Goodhue was quite popular
as a country house designer. Like Edwin
Lutyens, his English contemporary, he was traditional but quirky. The images below might seem over done with
ornament, but for his time Goodhue was restrained in his use of ornament, and
would progressively simplify as a project moved toward construction.
The Parish House, Saint Peter’s, Morristown, New Jersey.
A half timbered cottage for a Ladies Home Journal article.
A house near Greenwich, Connecticut.
Proposals for a house at Briarcliff, New York.
Bertram Goodhue house, Montecito, California.
Anyone who has worked in an architectural office knows how
much time a principal spends in meetings, travel and socializing. As Goodhue became famous he was inundated
with clients, and the time available for design and especially drawing became
more limited. By 1914 he left Cram and
Ferguson and started his own office in New York City, which placed more
pressure on him, but also gave all the fame and fortune to him alone. From now on rendering was often done by others
in the office, or farmed out to specialists such as Hugh Ferriss and Birch
Burdette Long. As his practice became
nationwide, he found that “travel” involved long trips by train to California, Florida
or Montreal, and jaunts by ship to Hawaii or Cuba; severely limiting his time in
the office.
These three renderings of the Nebraska State Capitol
building illustrate Goodhue’s later years.
The design is ground breaking in its simplified expression of forms, and
its limited and orderly use of ornament.
None of the renderings however, are by Goodhue himself, but rather are
by the anonymous office worker, a professional renderer (Birch Burdette Long),
and a talented in-house artist/architect (James Perry Wilson).
One of the best renderings by Hugh Ferriss is the
Convocation Tower designed by Goodhue as a portfolio example of his ability to
design tall buildings. And, yes, I’ll
have to do a full post on Ferriss some time.
Although it is another project rendered by others, the
Kansas City War Memorial (above) is too good to not include here. Goodhue did not win the competition, but in
the presentation drawings (actually watercolor wash drawings done by his office
in the Beaux Art tradition) you get a clear idea of the direction his design
ideas were going. He had always been a
romantic, but had also seen the need for the architect to balance mass forms
with ornament, classical order with natural dynamism, and abstraction with
narrative.
Saint Bartholomew’s Church in New York is another of the New
York City churches he is famous for.
This rendering is by James Perry Wilson, from Goodhue’s office.
The sketch above is the last known drawing by Goodhue. It was done while returning home from the
west coast on the Union Pacific Railroad.
It is entitled; “View of the (poorer) business quarter of the city of
Sarras”. He died unexpectedly 10 days
later of a heart attack in New York City; he was only 55 years old. The sketch proves that he retained his visual
creativity and romantic spirit to the end.
The title suggests that the early poverty that drove him his whole life
was still an undercurrent pushing him beyond his physical limits.
“The sense of romance possessed him.” -Ralph Adams Cram
Goodhue’s life was a balance between tradition and
freedom. This was a reflection of the
age, and others were exploring the same dichotomy, and questioning the status
quo of the Beaux Art and eclecticism.
Unfortunately, his career was cut short, so we don’t know what he would
have made of the European modernism of the 30’s and 40’s.
Anyway, we’ll never know…
The Great Depression and World War 2 came along and undermined the already
shaky ideals of Western Civilization.
The result has been an exciting, chaotic roller coaster ride
that we can’t seem to leave behind.
Note:
In case you want to learn more about Goodhue,
the best book about his life and career is Richard Oliver’s Bertram Grosvenor Goodhue (1983). Most of the drawings and renderings in this
post are from a large format book published by The Architectural Book Publishing
Company of New York in 1914, entitled, A
Book of Architectural and Decorative Drawings by Bertram Grosvenor Goodhue. Other images are from Drafting Room Practice by Eugene Clute(1928). Many of the later renderings in Goodhue’s
office seem to have come from the hand of James Perry Wilson (noted in the
post), a Columbia architecture graduate, who was also, like Goodhue, a talented
artist. An interesting site on his life
is here.
