Break free of the box

Architecture has been called the most practical of the fine arts. Even the most extravagant buildings have to bear the wear and tear of daily use.

The new exhibition of photos and plans of architect J. Lamont Langworthy at the Laguna Art Museum vividly represents the matrix of practical concerns that contains a design.

Before you can really understand architecture as an art form, you have to be able to see the three-dimensional vision in a two-dimensional line drawing. If you can do that, then the most interesting part of the exhibit is the set of plans that trace Langworthy’s thought from concept to completion.

These include drawings for the never-completed Laguna Playhouse ? the current building, according to Langworthy, is, “a sort of Alamo to sink the town into mediocrity.” He calls the design of the Laguna Beach Library, “the usual pedestrian box.” Both statements are true. Why did they happen anyway?

People are scared of high-concept designs. There’s a reason for this fear. If I move into a plain concrete cube (a “pedestrian box”) with predictably placed windows and doors, I can feel free to fill it with my own things, the debris of daily life.

But if the house is itself a work of art, if the material used for flooring is in harmony with the color of the walls, and the furniture must complement the shape of the exterior and respect the architect’s “vision,” well, then I am a slave to that vision. If the designer becomes historically important (like Langworthy is to Laguna), not only am I a slave, but so are any future owners. If you deviate from the clarity of that vision? Well, it just looks bad.

Witness the photographs of Langworthy’s interiors in the exhibit. Some of these show the clean, soaring lines of a mid-century modern designer, with open floor plans and walls of glass contrasting with stone and steel.

But many of these clean lines are hard to see behind the clutter of the residents, real life getting in the way of art. One living room contains a giant fluorescent palm tree, proudly displayed against an organically designed wood wall.

Another shot from the second floor attempts to show the blurred transition in the design between the outside and inside ? but a motorcycle sits inexplicably in the foyer. Tragic furniture arrangements conceal the bones of the designs. Even the angular complements of exterior patios are cluttered with potted plants (or sometimes empty pots) of the Home Depot variety.

But the worse “clutter” comes in the form of the remodel. This can start at the level of the architect’s conception. Witness the house called Sagar I. Langworthy and a carport. The sharp, cliff-like peaks of the house fit perfectly with the landscape of Laguna. A carport would keep this open and balanced, but the owners wanted a garage, and the heft of the big door weighs down the design.

Look at Sagar II and you’ll see the real havoc a remodel can inflict. There’s a frosting of stucco on the house that’s totally incongruous. Worse yet, a layer of stonework sits at the bottom floor like a scab. And a kitchen redesign brought a warm interior down to a generic, Ikea-modern glossiness. It’s enough to make you flinch and turn away.

Concept One house shows what happens when residents clearly understand the architect’s design. The interior is sleek, pure, and open, reflecting the architect’s vision with minimal furniture, and nothing on the walls. The uncluttered exterior works like a frame for the house’s design. Interior and exterior visions are clear and respect the sculptural quality of the house.

But are these designs innovative? Langworthy is a product of his time. You can see the roots of his designs in the international style (with its unabashed use of visible support structures, lots of glass, and simplified design with minimal ornamentation).

They are late for their day ? mid-century modernism had begun to evolve by 1964. Examples of similar work can be found in Los Angeles as early as the mid-1920s. And the exhibit itself does not really provide anything beyond a map of Langworthy homes in Laguna to indicate what makes Langworthy particularly important to the city, or influential to its vision.

After all, architects have moved in with clients to assess personal needs before. Even the tight budget aspect of Langworthy’s work had become a point of pride with architects by the mid-60s.

It was considered professionally challenging (and still is) to do innovative designs for less-wealthy clients on difficult lots. His interest in modular buildings is an extension of this interest in affordability. The exhibit, however, does a poor job of placing Langworthy within the larger context of modular home building that was going on at the time, and is still going on today.

But the point of the exhibit is well-taken. The “pedestrian box” is the simple solution to the eternal question, “Where shall we live?” The work of Langworthy in Laguna is an example of what can happen when builders hire architects of talent and vision. Why shouldn’t we demand, in curator Janette Heartwood’s words, “a higher level of architectural accomplishment?” Where shall we live? Summon your courage, and live in a work of art.cpt.21-allen-cmyk-BPhotoInfoGN1OONAI20060310hamo6rkf(LA)