RDW

docteur / visites / service

Dosar Tematic

docteur / visites / service

text: Dan MARIN
desene: Daniela PUIA

© Vlad EFTENIE

Pairing the house with the workplace boasts a long tradition. In the Middle Ages, locating the studio or the space destined to trade on the ground floor and the dwelling upstairs was recurrent and characteristic of the city centres in Western Europe.
With the industrial revolution, the productive activities changed their nature and the relationship with the city. Separating the home from the workplace becomes a general rule in modern societies and even though nowadays information technology tends to change this situation, a radical transformation has not yet occurred.
The liberal or artistic professions have always been an exception because in these domains – medicine, law practice, architecture, visual arts – pairing the home with the studio, study or workshop was still possible.
A particular case is that of the architect who becomes his own client, having the possibility to express himself freely and to explore his ideas without any external constraints or idiosyncrasies. Beyond the practical goal or their biographical implications, these moments foreshadow subsequent evolutions or, more than once, actually become the landmarks in the history of modern architecture.

Frank Lloyd Wright, Home and Studio, Oak Park / Chicago, 1889-1895
In 1895, a short while after the start of his own architecture practice, Wright built his studio on the empty lot in the immediate surroundings of his home in Oak Park, the elite residential suburbs of Chicago. Erected in 1889 and modified in the following years due to the growth of his family, the house was a representative example, even if simplified in Wright’s manner, of what was known as Shingle style.
Pairing the home with the workspace was more than a practical need. First, the location of the studio in a quiet neighbourhood made it into a place of thought, a place „adapted to work and situated outside the turmoil of the city”1. Secondly, it fostered a close, quasi-familial relationship with his young disciples2 and a less formal relationship with the clients; actually, – Wright also had an office in Chicago „for purely business purposes”3. Thirdly, and probably most importantly, the vicinity of the studio to his home reflected Wright’s vital connection with architecture: „Finally, I had the studio next to my home, the way it always stayed since then. I could work late and then go to bed. If I couldn’t sleep because of an idea, I would get up, go downstairs to the studio and, passing through the connection corridor, go back to work.”4
As in other projects carried out in this initial period – in which multiple influences are confronted leading to the in nuce emergence of the elements of the future Wrightian language – , the plan combines local symmetry with a free general scheme [2]. In the middle, the access space conceived in a semi-monumental manner is a transparent reference to the historical tradition; on either side of the entrance hall and of Wright’s study, the main spaces of the studio are built in square plan while the library is built in an octogonal plan. Or, according to the author, „an early study of the articulation – the expression of its different functions, individualized and grouped”5.

Seen from Chicago Avenue [1], the image is that of a composition of volumes built in perspective: in the foreground, the low brick wall, with its linear geometry, marking the street limit and integrating the entrance loggia; in the middle ground, the higher structures of the library and the study; in the background, the triangular roof of the house; the prevailing use of wood for the closures provides unity to the different parts of the ensemble.
Since the home was tributary to the North American historical tradition, the studio heralded a new modern tradition, with Wright playing a central part in its establishment. The plans and elevations of the studio prefigure the vertical central volumes of Unity Temple as well as the perforated wall and the horizontal tension of Robbie House. They were designed, along with many other buildings, precisely in this studio in the following years.

Walter Gropius: The homes of the masters, Bauhaus – Dessau, 1926
The Bauhaus philosophy was based – both in its expressionist initial phase centred on artistic manual dexterity and the post-1923 rationalist phase oriented towards industrial production – , on the in-depth study of form and the basic principles of visual configuration, beyond the subjectivity intrinsic to any historical stylistic reference. The ultimate goal of this programme is represented by the preparation for the total work of art of modernity, „(…) the new building of the future which will embrace architecture and sculpture and painting in one unity (…)”6.
According to this dogmatic vision – yet not deprived of contradictions7 – , visual arts represent a prerequisite for the formation of the architect as they dominate the Bauhaus curricula: the introductory courses held by Itten, Albers and Moholy-Nagy; the art classes held by Klee, Kandinsky, Feininger, Schlemmer and others. It is for them that Gropius built, in the Bauhaus campus in Dessau, near the new premises of the school, a small ensemble hosting the manager’s house and three coupled houses destined to the tenured lecturers who held the fundamental courses.

3- Walter Gropius: The homes of the masters, Bauhaus, Dessau, 1926

The manager’s house – a ground floor and first floor apartment with a conventional interior space and no studio – is a composition of prismatic volumes reminiscent of Neoplasticism8 and Corbusian Purism. The artists’ houses, grouped in revolving asymmetrical pairs, are circumscribed to the same Elementarist aesthetics: large white surfaces, rigorously positioned rectangular windows, balconies underlining the horizontal profile and delicate metallic railings [3].
The geometrical forms and the positioning relations generate directions and create perceptual tensions pointing out that „art, applied art and architecture are all generated by the same laws”9: the square, a Bauhaus iconic form, tells its own story not only in „Point and Line to Plane”, the essence of Kandinsky’s course, but also on the buildings façades.
The two-floor apartments have upstairs studios entirely lit by large glazed surfaces.
The interiors designed by Gropius and Breuer, more than merely continuing an aesthetic line asserted on the exterior, they propose a lifestyle best characterized by the specific German term of sachlich. The general tone is that of practical simplicity reflected in the furniture and the use of new industrial materials: linoleum floor, chrome plated steel tubes furniture, stratified wood panels. The radical Hannes Meyer, an opponent of the formalism of the “Bauhaus Cubist cubes”10 must have appreciated this austere functionalism. Not the same can be said of the painter-residents and their wives who took no time to make numerous transformations with respect to the type and location of the furniture, the presence of works of art or the differentiated chromatic treatment of the walls.

Alvar Aalto: The architect’s home and studio, Munkkiniemi, Helsinki, 1934-1936
While Aalto’s starting career years are under the sign of local classicism, functionalism and constructivism, the house in Munkkiniemi – where he was to live and work until the end of his life11 – indicates a major shift. It is one of the first examples of the “organic tendency”12 which will mark the future evolution of Aalto’s architecture, an architecture which sees form both rationally and intuitively, as a sensitive relationship with life and human needs, nature and materials: “The present phase of modern architecture is doubtless a new one, with the special aim of solving problems in the humanitarian and psychological fields […] Technical functionalism is correct only if enlarged to cover the psychophysical field. That is the only way to humanize architecture.”13
Located on an unlevelled terrain bordering the forest and initially oriented directly towards the sea, the building generates a double perspective: to the north, a courtyard with an opaque brickwork enclosure facing the street; in the south, a transparent wooden fence overlooking the valley. Both display a direct connection to the interior ground floor spaces as “the garden (or courtyard) belong to our home just as much as any of the rooms”14.

4 - Alvar Aalto: Home and Studio, Munkkiniemi, Helsinki, 1934-1936, view from the street

The L-shaped plan of the house reflects the separation of the main areas: the entrance and the studio – with a double height and split level welcome space and drawing studio; the actual house – the ground floor space of the living room flowing into the studio and the upstairs bedrooms and their corresponding annexes. The relationship between the house and a studio which does not have a strictly personal character as several employees work there is both direct and ambivalent: two living room steps and a sliding door both separate and connect the living room and the studio, private life and professional life.
To the north, the house closes up [4]: the street view reveals a composition of prismatic volumes and full surfaces, with local, rectangular openings, apparently influenced by international modernism yet lacking its abstract character or industrial references. On the contrary, the natural materiality is pervasive, amplifying the separation of the two main areas: the white limed brick surfaces of the entrance, studio and precinct wall facing the street are in contrast with the volume of the upstairs bedrooms covered in vertical wood lamellas.
To the south, the house opens up: the glazed surface amplifies considerably and the volumes split to make room for the ground floor and upstairs terraces by creating custom-designed spaces and emphasizing the domestic staircase of the building. A discreet door located in the corner of the studio connects it to the terrace and the garden.
The presence of vegetation, the way natural materials are used or the junction with the land are important details, indicative of the intention to unify and create the feeling of an organic continuity between the land and the building: the climbing plants trellis on the ground floor walls; the round wood used for both the upstairs railings and the south fencing; the slabs replacing the entrance steps; the rubble stone support wall assuming the land declivity and delimitating the terrace garden. Architecture is seen not so much as an object per se but rather as a part of the landscape.

Le Corbusier: The house and studio of painter Ozenfant, Paris, 1923
In 1918, Amédée Ozenfant and Pierre Jeanneret published „Après le cubisme”, the manifesto of Purism: the break off with the fragmentation produced by the various trends of the visual avant-garde before and during the First World War and the retrieval of the integrity of form or, in a broader sense, the southern European tradition of the closed form. Leaving the realm of painting aside, Purism became, thanks to Jeanneret – Le Corbusier – the aesthetic support of a new architectural ideology.
Although in Le Corbusier’s perspective architecture is an essentially artistic field – „architecture is a fact of art (…) outside of the problems of construction, beyond them”15 – , his architectural system cannot be separated from his technical prerequisite, the reinforced concrete frame. Several projects at the beginning of the 1920s – Maison d`artiste (1922) or Maison en série pour artisans (1924) – represent, through their technical data (large openings, non-load bearing partitions) and spatial details (double height studio, zenithal light), a generous territory for exploring the expressive resources of concrete and establishing the Corbusian architectural vocabulary filtered by Purist aesthetics.
In the same period, Citrohan House began to display a particular section, a genuine archetype derived from a famous café in Paris: the two-level free space overlooking the façade and the split level with a rear apparent staircase. A recurrent custom section used in Pavillon de L`Esprit Nouveau and the Parisian villas in the 1920s as well as the apartments in the various Unités d`habitation built in the 1950s: an ideal section for an artist’s studio.
Ozenfant’s home and studio reflect a peculiar urban situation – a corner lot situated at the intersection of two streets part of a continuous building front – , as well as a specific formalizing will: a prismatic vertical volume with the first two floors hosting residential spaces and a double height floor sheltering a studio with a light trihedron [5].
The visual theory conceived in collaboration with Ozenfant hence finds one of its first architectural correspondences: the script of the plan matches the curved lines of the interior walls; the geometry of the façade controlled by regulating lines; the pure volume, whose surface is accused through the front position of the windows; the ship-like railings and the industrial light well. Briefly: a prefiguration of the Corbusian aesthetics of the 1920s, in which the geometric discipline of the classical tradition intersects with the references of the new machinist era.

Le Corbusier: The home and studio of painter Guiette, Antwerp, 1926
A few years later, the theme of the studio house was revisited in Antwerp, in the residence of painter René Guiette. The similar vertical development was dictated, as in the previous case, by the constraints of a narrow 6-metre lot situated at the front. The lengthwise configuration of the stairs allowed for a spatial organization scheme which included the house – the kitchen and the living room with a direct connection to the rear garden, on the ground floor; the bedrooms and the annexes, on the first floor – and the studio, on the last two floors, with its split level giving access to the terrace camouflaged in the prismatic levelled volume of the building [6].
Out of the five points of Le Corbusier’s architectural doctrine – „Les cinq points d`une nouvelle architecture” was published in the same period – , three are present: the free plan, with no-load bearing curved walls accommodating the accidents of the scheme; the strip window; the roof garden, the artist’s “secret” garden.
The form and distribution of the windows reflect both the interior spatial configuration – especially the symbolic presence of the studio which reiterates the formula used in Ozenfant’s studio -, and the intrinsic horizontal-vertical tension of the high narrow volume imposed by the inadequacy of the lot.

Pierre Chareau, Bernard Bijvoet: Maison de verre, Paris, 1928-1931
Literally, the authentic machine à habiter is not the Corbusian villa of the 1920s – where the instrumental sense is undermined by aesthetic apriorism – but Maison de verre, the home and medical practice of Doctor Dalsace.
Maison de verre is not an independent object but an insertion replacing the first two floors of an edifice in the centre of Paris, with the last level remaining intact due to the owner’s refusal to sell. In the newly created space, the ground floor is destined to the access area and the medical practice; the first floor hosts the living and social spaces while the second floor is dedicated to private and sleeping spaces.
Within this planned frame, three modernist themes describe this paradoxical and sophisticated object: the logics of the machine, mechanical aesthetics, the transparency of glass.
The logics of the machine must be understood in terms of function, as a perfect instrument adapted to a practical goal but also in terms of production, with reference to the industrially made modular components. The punctual structure made of steel pillars and beams allows for the free and flexible organization of each level, with interior spaces separated by fixed walls and mobile (either sliding or rotating) panels made from glass or metal.

7 - Pierre Chareau, Bernard Bijvoet: Maison de verre, Paris, 1928-1931, view from the access courtyard

Maison de verre is an architectural mechanism [7], in which the technical form implicitly turns into an artistic form: the bolted metallic structure is noticeable; the sanitary installations and electric cables are visibly displayed; the action mechanisms of various components turn into „ornaments”; the raw materials – steel profiles, perforated metallic panels, rubber tiles or industrial hardwood floors and apparent concrete surfaces – become sources of expressivity.
The aspect that grants force to this object to the greatest extent is the external closure made from glass slabs mounted in metal frames, a translucent screen with partly mobile clear glass insertions controlling the transparency and the visual relations. Hence, Maison de verre grows into a space of light, blatantly yet fully justified from a functional and psychological perspective: „Light circulates freely in this block whose ground floor is destined to medicine, the first floor, to social life and the third floor, to nocturnal habitation (…) The ground floor, the professional part of the building, allows for a light work and gives the patients, once the first emotions have passed, an immense tranquillity. The entire house was created under the sign of friendship, in a perfect emotional balance”16.

Le Corbusier: Curruchet House, Buenos Aires, 1948
Some of the Corbusian topoi of the 1920s (les pilotis, le plan libre, la promenade architecturale) and the 1950s (brise-soleil) – are confronted in Buenos Aires with a real urban situation, a narrow and deep lot aligned according to the rule of a Parisian-inspired avenue. The rule of the front is not denied, as required by the functionalist planning promoted by Le Corbusier in the 1920s, also in his South American conferences – „il faut détruire la rue corridor”17, but reinterpreted, by taking over the alignment and through a layered configuration of two independent structures in the depth of the lot; with a view to resuming an established formula, a „virtual transparency”, based not on parallel plans but volumes [8].
Beyond all ideology, it is a perfectly logical solution, prompted by the elongated form of the lot and the nature of the scheme, with its two complementary components, the house and the medical practice, united and separated at once.

Occupying the rear part of the lot, the house has three floors, with the last two resuming, in a finite form, the classical Corbusian layout, with a double height and split level living room. Connected to the house volume through a ramp and a half-level difference, the medical practice allows for street level access and makes room for a „terrace garden making good use of the blessings of the sky, light, sun and shade”18 as an extension of the living room.
The idea of elevating the house with the help of pilotis and a volume „traversed by air”, as Giedion19 calls it, undergoes, due to land constraints, a radical reinterpretation resulting in a profound spatiality: the volume – that is, the virtual volume defined by the limits of the lot – is disintegrated, perforated lengthwise by vertical openings allowing the light to reach the ground and letting plants grow freely [9].
In the case of Parisian villas, the interior spatial exuberance was dissimulated by the „mask of simplicity”20 – the enveloping, unifying surface of sheer volume. Street camouflage now takes the shape of the brise-soleil, the sun shading device used on a large scale in the following years in Chandigarh and Ahmedabad.

Luis Barragán: The architect’s house and studio, Mexico City, 1949
Luis Barragán’s house is relevant to the series of polarities characteristic of his biography and work. With a double diploma in engineering and architecture, Barragán asserted himself as a landscape planner but he was also a real estate promoter; it was then when he developed, starting with the mid-1940s, the project called Jardines del Pedregal de San Angel, a residential ensemble destined to the elite of the Mexican capital.
Yet it is not here that the architect will chose the place for his own house – and later on, his studio – , but in a popular neighbourhood, where the vitality of the local tradition can generate an authentic alternative to the uniformity of the international style. For Barragán is searching for a double answer: „(…) firstly, the creation of a modern built environment [ambiente], an environment which is in Mexico and is part of it (…), secondly, the use of natural and raw materials for modern comfort”21.

In other words, a synthesis of European modernism and Mexican vernacular – divided, in its turn, into American Indian and Hispanic – , of the abstract purity of the form and the sensory quality of the material, of architecture seen as an act of artistic and intellectual elaboration and nature as a primordial, inescapable presence.
The street-aligned façade reveals a massive, compact and formal volume, perforated by just a few isolated openings; the sole clue pointing to the difference between the house and the studio is the height decoupage separating the two [10].
At the back, in absolute contrast with the austerity of the street façade, the greenery-flooded courtyard brings in an explosion of light and colour through the large living room window: a radicalization of the introverted character of the house.
On the inside, the semi-traditional planimetry, with massive walls, operates with clear-cut spaces located on the ground floor and the first floor. Its seeming „commonness” is actually supporting a complex spatiality generated by the direct yet limited communication between the two levels, the light descending from the last floor and the walls turned into abstract surfaces of colour [11]. Similarly, the railing-free stairs become sculptural objects in space while the terraces, bounded by high walls, „rooms” soaring to the sky.

Charles & Ray Eames: House and Studio, Pacific Palisades, Ca., 1945-1949
Charles and Ray Eames House and Studio is probably the best-known example in the series called Case Study Houses – whence the official name of Case Study House #8 -, an architectural experiment initiated by „Arts & Architecture” and carried out between 1945 and 1966, resulting in the creation of economic residential models destined to the American middle class by resorting to “new materials and new techniques”22.
The programme aimed at building a house for a creative professional couple centred on “mechanic experiment and graphic representation”23, a description resuming the various domains of interest of the Eames couple, ranging from architecture and furniture design to graphic design and film. Having a “free relationship with the ground, the trees, the ocean”24, Case Study House #8 was originally conceived in the form of two distinct volumes – the house and the studio – perpendicularly placed on top of another; following the transformations carried out during the execution phase, the final configuration displayed two collinear volumes separated by a green courtyard and reclining against a long support wall on the high-sloped terrain. [12]
The body of the house comprises a double height and split level living room, with a ground floor dining space and upstairs bedroom and annexes; the studio has a similar layout, with a double height space and two-floor annexes. In both cases, the structural and closure system is identical – prefabricated frames made from metal profiles and glass or stratified panels.
While the initial project of the building, signed by Charles Eames in collaboration with Eero Saarinen, evoked Mies’ crystal clear purity25 – a glass box, elevated from the ground and challenging the structure – , in the final project, the modernist rationalism was deviated by an artistic will in which Neo-Plastic aesthetics meets the influence of Japanese architecture26.

The façades of both structures assume the image of an abstract composition [13] in contradiction with the functionalist idea of constructive „sincerity” and the pragmatism of industrialized production: on a local level, the structure is no longer visibly expressed, just as the use of various materials enables the common homogeneity of the closure to be replaced with a shift between transparent, translucent and opaque, between pure colour and non-colour. The rigorous rectangular space of the industrial structure is rendered human by the different shades of light, the richness of textures and colours, the organic curves of the furniture, the objects, fabrics and works of art inside the house, the visual presence of the luxurious, invading vegetation coming from the outside.

Apart from each architect’s sensitivity and approach, pairing the house with the workspace can be analyzed from two perspectives: on a spatial level, as a proximity report as well as a functional relationship, and at the level of image, as a visual and symbolic expression of this union. They bring about a variety of situations because the separation or the connection of the two functions is never complete, just as their architectural expression is subject not only to the logics of use but also aesthetic norms.The painters’ and architects’ studios are linked to their homes even though they have different degrees of integration or operate in separate buildings, as is the case of Wright. The case of Charles & Ray Eames is a particular one: given the Californian climate, the home and the studio can also operate in the absence of a direct, interior connection.
The medical practices are separated from the dwelling area from the very beginning out of obvious reasons: at Curruchet House, the separation is possible due to the ramp, at Maison de verre, through the floor plan layout and the three distinct door bells at the entrance, „docteur / visites / service”.
Not only the spatial configuration but also the representation of the two components and their relationship are variable. Placing the house in the middle ground, Wright resorts to a composition of articulate, clearly individualized volumes and even historical references for his studio – the symmetric plan design, the colonnade and the decorations of the entrance hall – in order to enhance its representativity; we are still in the 19th century.

Gropius and Le Corbusier (Ozenfant and Guiette cases) define the space of the studio through a large glazed surface clearly differentiating it from the rest of the building, concurrently following symbolic and visual logics derived from the abstract formalism of modernism.
Despite the fact they are situated in very different, even opposed, geographic spaces and environments, the studio houses designed by Aalto and Barragán display several common features. In general terms, they both illustrate two hypotheses of a modern localized architecture which shirks the modernist uniformization27 through materiality and the relation with nature and light. Both of them have a firm orientation, with a closed street front and scarce hints of what is going on inside: in Aalto’s case, the common-sized window of the studio is the only visible one; as for Barragán, the situation is reversed, the only major window is that of the living room but it only allows light, not vision.
In real terms, Charles & Ray Eames House and Studio comprise two independent structures, separated by a courtyard. Yet drawn closer, unified by the courtyard pavement and sharing the same geometric and optical features, they could be read differently, as a single virtual prismatic volume deprived of the middle section.
Maison de verre and Curruchet House share not only their adjacent medical function but also the fact that they visually unify the interior by inserting a screen between it and the outsider: translucent glass, in the first case and transparent to translucent, in the second.

1. Extract from the notice in which Wright publicly announced the opening of his office in Oak Park, 1898, in Brendan Gill: Many Masks. A Life of Frank Lloyd Wright, Heinemann, 1988, p. 129.
2. „Liebermeister Sullivan had fifty draughtsmen whom he held in the utmost contempt («Wright! I have no respect for draughtsmen!»). Yet Wright, given his concern for interhuman relations, would have never had this kind of attitude towards his employees. Both in Oak Park and later on, in Taliesin, he felt the need to keep them close to his family life”, Norris Kelly Smith: Frank Lloyd Wright. A Study in Architectural Content, American Life Foundation & Study Institute, 1979, p. 82-83.
3. Op. cit. note 1., p. 129.
4. Frank Lloyd Wright: An Autobiography, Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1943, p. 138.
5. Frank Lloyd Wright: Berlin exhibition catalogue, Ausgefuhrte Bauten, Wasmuth, 1910, English edition, Studies and executed Buildings, Dover Publications, 1983.
6. Walter Gropius, Manifest und Program des Staatlichen Bauhauses Weimar, 1919, in Ulrich Conrads, Programs and manifestoes on 20th century architecture, The MIT Press, 1971, p. 49.
7. Although the supreme goal of Bauhaus was architecture, it was not included in the study programme until 1927, with Hannes Meyer’s appointment as a director.
8. Insofar as the volume and surface relationships are concerned, Alfred H. Barr associated the north façade of the director’s house with the painting entitled „The Cow”, by Theo van Doesburg, in Barr, Alfred H., Cubism and Abstract Art, MOMA, 1936, p. 157.
9. Kandinsky, the manuscript of the courses held at Bauhaus, 1922-1933, French edition, Wassily Kandinsky, Cours du Bauhaus. Introduction a l’art moderne, Denoel Gonthier, Paris, 1975, p. 212.
10. Hannes Meyer, Bauhaus und Gesellschaft, 1929, Romanian edition, Bauhaus și societate, in Nicolae Lascu (ed.), Funcțiune și formă, Meridiane, 1989, p. 357.
11. Apart from this studio integrated in his house, Aalto was to build a second larger one, in the vicinity, around the middle of the 1950s.
12. „Organic trend”, Alvar Aalto, a letter to Walter Gropius, 1930, in Schildt, Göran, Alvar Aalto: The Decisive Years, Rizzoli, 1986, p. 66.
13. Aalto, Alvar: „The Humanizing of Architecture”, The Technology Review, November, 1940, republished in Schildt, Göran (ed.), Alvar Aalto in His Own Words, Rizzoli, 1997, p. 107.
14. Aalto, Alvar: „From Doorstep to Living Room”, 1926, republishd in Schildt, Göran (ed.), Alvar Aalto in His Own Words, Rizzoli, 1997, p. 52.
15. Le Corbusier, Vers une architecture, 1923, republished Flammarion, 1995, p. 9.
16. Dr. Jean Dalsace, in Rene Herbst, Pierre Chareau, Editions du Salon des Arts Ménajeres, 1954, apud Kenneth Frampton, La maison de verre, a text initially published in Perspecta 12/1978 and republished in Architecture, Movement, Continuite, no. 46/1978.
17. Le Corbusier, Le Plan „Voisin” de Paris, conference held at Buenos-Aires, October 1929, in Precisions sur un etat present de l’architecture et de l’urbanisme, Editions Vincent, Freal & Co, Paris, 1930, p. 169.
18. Le Corbusier, Oeuvre complète, 1946-1952, Birkhäuser, p. 46.
19. „The solid volume is opened up whenever possible by cubes of air, strip windows, immediate transitions to the sky (…) Le Corbusier’s houses are neither spatial nor plastic: air flows through them! Air becomes a constitutive factor!”, Siegfried Giedion, Construire en France, construire en fer, construire en beton, 1928, ed. fr. Editions de la Villette, 2000, p. 85.
20. Le Corbusier, L’Exposition de l’Ecole Speciale de l’Architecture, 1924, apud Bruno Reichlin in De Stijl et l’architecture en France, Pierre Mardaga, 1985, p. 108.
21. Luis Barragán, apud Esther McCoy, „Luis Barragán statement”, Archives of American Art, in Federica Zanco (ed.), „Luis Barragán: The quiet revolution”, Barragán Foundation & Vitra Design Museum, Skira, 2001, p. 93.
22. Case Study Program, in Arts & architecture, January 1945, in Elisabeth A.T. Smith (ed.), Case Study Houses. The Complete CSH Program, 1945-1966, Taschen, 2009, p. 14-15.
23. Case Study Houses 8 and 9, in Arts & architecture, December 1945, in Elisabeth A.T. Smith (ed.), op. cit., p. 92.
24. Ibid.
25. Sketch for a mountain house, probably set in northern Italy, around 1934, see Detlef Mertins, Mies, Phaidon, 2014, p. 223.
26. V. Pat Kirkham, Charles and Ray Eames: Designers of the Twentieth Century, The MIT Press, 1995, p. 116.
27. „The art of Barragán is modern but not modernist”, Octavio Paz, in Vuelta, June 1980, p. 43.

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