It can start with a single building. For me, it was Independence Hall in Philadelphia. Growing up in suburban South Florida, examples of noteworthy historic architecture were few and far between. Trips north to visit my grandparents inspired my love of architecture and history. I can still remember climbing the stairs of the iconic brick building, grasping the smooth wooden banister, and learning that George Washington had ascended the same staircase over 200 years before.
Unlike an affinity for math, science, or English, a love for architecture is often sparked in the field. It is seeing, hearing, touching, and smelling a space that tells us it’s good. Whether or not you studied architecture, you can surely name a place that is constructed permanently in your memory: your grandmother’s kitchen, the local library, an inspiring museum. Like a favorite book, spaces take root in our memories.
For the past seven years, I have volunteered as a docent at East Hollywood’s Hollyhock House, Frank Lloyd Wright’s first completed project in California. It was built for Aline Barnsdall, an oil heiress, avant-garde theater producer, and philanthropist, and completed in 1921. The stucco-covered facade and battered roof, both adorned with cast-concrete ornamentation representing the eponymous flower, contain spaces decorated with honey-colored oak, mica-flecked plaster, and sculpted bronze light fixtures. Some of the ceilings are unusually low, as Wright intended – part of his design theory of ‘compression and release.’
Hollyhock House. Photos by Jim.
Guests at Hollyhock are a varied bunch: tourists, students, Wright enthusiasts, toddlers. We regularly see visitors from Asia, Australia, Central and South America, and Europe. All 50 states are represented. I find it equally rewarding to meet Angelenos who have lived here for decades and are just seeing the house for the first time. Most everyone enjoys the experience; some are even moved to tears. A woman who is a carpenter from Tennessee once walked through the front door and immediately began crying. When I asked about her reaction, she replied, “It’s just so beautiful.”
Hollyhock House is Los Angeles’s only UNESCO World Heritage Site, a remarkable honor for the city. It was designated in 2019, along with seven other buildings by Wright throughout the United States, on the merits of their significant impact on Modern architecture in the 20th Century. This honor is also a responsibility. We are called to be stewards of buildings like Hollyhock House because their impact reaches far beyond the citizens of the city, state, country, and time in which they exist.
Hollyhock House. Photos by Jim.
Hollyhock House was closed for over two years during the COVID-19 pandemic – and it may be shuttered again. The Mayor’s Proposed Budget, released on April 21, includes City-wide staff cuts that, if approved by City Council, will mean fewer full-time employees at Hollyhock House. This could result in the building closing to visitors so that the staff remaining can prioritize preservation projects instead of tours. This would be a heartbreaking outcome for docents like myself, who treasure the opportunity to share this important structure with the world. Additionally, the building’s UNESCO status requires four full-time staff. If Hollyhock House doesn’t meet that criterion, it may lose this designation. Fortunately, the Department of Cultural Affairs has proposed solutions that would prevent these staff cuts.
Good architecture relies on artful inspiration. Humans learn from each other, our fellow citizens and those who have gone before. As architects, we know the width at which a hallway is comfortable but not overly generous, the perfect color and texture of lime-based stucco on a Spanish Colonial Revival facade, or the tidiest way to connect a copper gutter to a downspout because architects before us have left inspiring examples of these details. When artful precedents are made inaccessible, our collective knowledge is threatened.
Hollyhock House. Photos by Jim.
In Los Angeles, residents and visitors alike have access to a number of structures that inspire, restore, and excite. Some of my favorites include the Gamble House in Pasadena, the Lummis Home along the Arroyo Seco, Adamson House in Malibu, the Eames House in Pacific Palisades, Greystone Mansion in Beverly Hills, the Neutra VDL Residence in Silver Lake, and the Schindler House in West Hollywood – where I have also been a docent since 2022. My understanding of this city and the work that we do to restore and build its homes is informed by the time I’ve spent in structures like these. I hope that these buildings and others will always remain accessible to those seeking to learn from them.
More information about the proposed budget cuts can be seen via AIA|LA’s Advocacy Report.