This is what it is like to live in a Frank Lloyd Wright House

Signature tile at Taliesin. The Bogk House does not have a tile

Architecture is a visual medium. A three dimensional visual medium. And all architecture is dependent on many externalities. To steal shamelessly from Witold Rybczynski, some of these are:

1. Ideas
2. The Setting
3. Site
4. Plan
5. Structure
6. Skin
7. Details
8. Style
9. The Past
10. Taste

(read his book) 

I am not going to go into each one of these characteristics as I write about what it is like to live in a Frank Lloyd Wright House (should I say WIILTLIAFLWH? No? ok) because I am trying to capture something that is while not ethereal exactly, at the least somewhat intangible. I know we live in the age of "vibes" and I think that is the epitome of lazy writing, but indulge me for a moment. 

It is the vibe of the house that you first notice when you enter. 

I'll try to explain with words. (You may notice a lack of images in this post. This goes against everything I have learned about blogging over the past 25 years, but I guess I am trying to make a point. There are a lot of images of the house in many of the other posts. You can go look at those if you want)

You enter the house into a foyer that is small and has a relatively low ceiling. (yes, a little compression) The, as you walk up the three steps into the living room, you see a couple of things: The Crane Fountain, perfectly framed by a gap in the bookcase; the bookcase and the leaded glass doors; and finally, the release of a 10' 6" ceiling that towers above the orange carpet, the 1917 Wright designed library table, the other bookcase and leaded glass cabinet, and the Henredon furniture that Wright designed in the 1950s.

It takes your breath away.

You stand in silence for a moment as you take it all in. Unconsciously your eyes sweep the room and notice the fireplace. The built-in desk and settee. The sconces that seem to float out of the walls. The map rail. The ceiling detail.

And mostly, the proportions. 

The Golden Mean is golden for a reason. The living room is a manifestation of the Golden Mean. You want to (you need to) sit and take it all in. You don't want to talk, and you don't want to "learn" about the house. You want to just, well, experience the vibe.

Because everything you see is in the right place. Every detail, on first glance, is what you want to see, when you turn your head to look. 

The square motif that recapitulates the details in the lintel over the door.

The long, deep rake of the horizontal mortar joints.

The almost invisible narrow vertical mortar joints.

The wire cut tapestry brick that is exactly the same as the brick on the exterior of the house. 

And you understand that the whole was written in the detail of the parts. The Golden Mean is self referential, and the House is self referential as well. Every single part of this room, this first room you see, tells you that you have entered a special place, a place you don't want to leave.

And that is just the living room. Each room in the house has details that it takes time to recognize, and time to understand. You are overwhelmed at first, but slowly you begin to realize what a magical place you have come into. 

The step up to the dining room brings you closer to the Crane Fountain mentioned above, as well as the details around the planter and conservatory that exploit the "borrowed view" of the neighbor's garden. 

The Wright designed dining room table, chairs (lightly modified by George Mann Niedecken to make  them more comfortable) , ceiling fixture (again, a Niedecken design) as well as a card table, a built in buffet, and the glorious art glass windows that reflect the same windows that are in the living room. 

I could go on. There are only three rooms downstairs (ignoring the coat closet and power room) and each one will track you attention and reward your investigation into detail. In previous posts I try to capture some of that magic. But this media does not reward such attempts richly.

But that is not what it is like to live in a Frank Lloyd Wright house. That is what it is like to be in a Frank Lloyd Wright house. 

You need to understand that you live in this house like you live in any other house. You need to park your car. You need to carry groceries into the house. You need to put away the groceries. You need to do laundry, wash dishes, and prepare meals. You need to nap, to sleep, to have parties, and to read books. 

Plumbing needs to be maintained, electrical outlets and switches need to be fixed, windows need to be repaired, and everything needs to be cleaned. There is magic in the house, but magic does not obviate the need to do your everyday living. This is still a 108 year old house, with all the problems and issues that every 108 year old house has. Wright or no, if you are not willing to deal with these things it will be a hard slog.

The sense of wonder and the ability to uncover some hidden details never ends. The previous owners lived here for almost 70 years and raised five kids in this house. I know (because I asked) that they felt that they were finding new things out about the house until the day we they left, and we moved it.

Now it is our turn to experience that wonder, as well as the headaches, heartaches, and expenses that come with owning this house.