The Prodigious Builders by Bernard Rudofsky (review)

Books 343 metal (cardboard) reliefs, rubbings, imitation wood (made of paper or of plastic) marquetry and plaster-coated assemblages. The book is well illustrated and reasonably priced. While it cannot be considered a well-conceived introduction to this domain of art, it at least provides a fewexamples that can kindle the interest of some who have had no previous exposure to techniques of this kind. An Autobiography. Frank Lloyd Wright. Horizon Press, New York, 1977 (revised ed.). 620 pp., illus. $17.50 Reviewed by Dorothy Grotz* This isawelcomerevisededition of a book firstpublished in 1932 and republished in 1943. Almost as soon as the first version appeared, Wright began its revision. A new chapter, Broadacre City, as well as other recent material have been added. There are also new illustrations. Although many books have been written about Wright and about his architecture, I find his book the most colorful and revealing. Of Welsh ancestry, he was both philosophic and poetic, and a romantic mood runs throughout the book. Born in the middle-west of the U.S.A., he moved to Chicago in the 1890s to becomeanapprenticeto the architect Louis Sullivan.Working as an independent architect, he built the first Taliesin, tragically destroyed by fire. His marriage to Olgivanna (to whom this book is dedicated) resulted in the building of the Taliesin Fellowship-an architectural monument and an international architectural school. In addition to the Imperial Hotel in Japan, which survivedthe earthquake, if not the industrialization of Tokyo, he continued his architectural work at a feverish pace-houses, skyscrapers and churches. As an innovative architect, he was often thecenter ofcontroversy. Even after hisdeath somethingof this furor still persists. Half Victorian and half of the 20th century, he isthe architect who gaveimpetus to what isknown as ‘modern’ architecture in the U.S.A. Actually, Wright found his objective early. In 1909 he wrote from Oak Park, Illinois: ‘Architecture by now was quite mine: come to meby actual experienceand meant somethingout of this ground we call America. Architecture was something in league with the stones of the field in sympathy with “the flowers that fadeth and the grass that witherith”. ...I knew that no house should be on a hill or anything. It should be of the hill.’ This welding of buildings to the environment was Wright’s essential contribution to archictecture. The ProdigiousBuilders. Bernard Rudofsky. Secker & Warburg, London, 1977.383pp., illus.f8.75.Reviewed by Roger Mason** This book has two parts, illustrations and text, which are given approximately equal importance as regards the pages allocated to them. However, it is clearly apparent which of the two was given primacy. The illustrations are a delight and a pleasure; the text, a pain. Visually, the book is a collection of brilliant images, a miscellany of photographs put together by a man with the connoisseur’seye for sculptural form, texture and decoration. It is beautifully designed by Rudofsky himself, and in clarity of appearance it is a tribute to his skill as a designer. Indeed, the number of memorable and symbolic buildings illustrated is so large that I can mention only a few here; the columbaria of Cappadocia, the farmhouse on Shikoku, the fortress of Marvao, the Turkish granary, the wind-catchers of Hyderabad. There is a richness here that delights the eye. The text is another matter, for, although the book is sub-titled ‘notes toward a natural history of architecture with special *7 St. Lukes Place, New York, NY 10014, U.S.A. **The Grange, Steeple Aston, Oxfordshire, England. regard to those species that are traditionally neglected or downright ignored’, the author’s approach is more accurately described in his introduction: ‘The text is intentionally fragmentary, the illustrations deliberately promiscuous.’ The book is truly a fragmentary collection of concepts, only partially linked to the excellentselection of illustrations. An examination of the chapter titles will help to demonstrate this mental confusion. The title In Praise of Caves is clear enough, so is Strongholds. But what is to be made of Brute Architecture? How is one to make sense of the reasoning that jumps from a French open-air cafi: to beaver lodges, honeycombs and bird nests and, finally, concludes amidst dove cotes? What...