Irving Harper (2013)

George Nelson Clock reproduction by Verichron, 2013

Every so often it is good to have the rug pulled out from under you. The experience sharpens your senses, wakes you up, and makes you question the firm ground that all too often is taken for granted.

Online ad, Modernica, 2013

My Mid-20th Century Design Road to Damascus was a flight to Spain with a long layover in JFK. It was 1998, Trans World Airlines was still operating, and the fates conspired to leave me with a few hours on my hands in Terminal 5. Almost needless to say, I was floored by the building. My appreciation of modernism as a design aesthetic became a primary interest and the name Eero Saarinen was elevated to hero status in my estimation. Move forward 5 years and I am now sharing the flat where I currently live in San Francisco with the now Missus. We purchase a pair of pendant lamps for our living room spaces from a local favorite, Inside. Our choice? Modernica's reproduction of the Howard Miller cigar bubble lamps designed by George Nelson. So here was my first legitimate design purchase. An iconic item by a name designer. So all things being equal, Nelson's stature is elevated in my little black Moleskine.

Print ads, Howard Miller Clock Company, 1956

And it grows. And it grows. My wife buys me a Vitra-produced Nelson reproduction clock as a gift. I find an oversize jack for my bookshelf. Our flatware is replaced with a set of vintage Hall Leisure designed by the Nelson and Associates. George Nelson becomes a touchstone in my mind's eye as I become more and more engrossed in this aspect of living.

Debut of the Herman Miller logo, 1947, logo by Irving Harper for George Nelson Design

Perhaps the only thing worse than being late to the party is being late to the party as well as being oblivious. The latter is how I felt when I first read about Irving Harper a few weeks ago. Who is Irving Harper? Only the most significant Mid-Century Modernist that you have (perhaps likely) never heard of! As it turns out Harper was THE man at George Nelson and Associates responsible for everything from the iconic Herman Miller logo to the now legendary Howard Miller "Nelson" clocks which hang on the wall of nearly every discerning modernist worth their salt. And, yes, even those lamps hanging in my living room are now attributed to Harper. Sure, I knew that George often took credit for the work of this firm. Of course he did, that is the way it had been done for decades if not centuries with the name on the masthead usually taking credit for the entire output. What is astonishing is just how many of these iconic works sprung from Irving Harper's obviously fertile, creative mind. The wonderful coda to this story is that Harper is still alive and finally getting the attention and notoriety he so clearly deserves.

For further reading, I highly recommend this article as well as this one. 

The MIT Chapel (1955)

The MIT Chapel, design by Eero Saarinen 1953-1956, photo by editor 2013

When one speaks of mid-century modern, I suppose one could not get any more mid than the year 1950. And it was in that year that the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), engaged Finnish-Amerian architect and industrial designer Eero Saarinen to design a chapel and auditorium on the grounds its campus located in Cambridge just across the Charles River from Boston. The Boston area is rarely thought of as a haven for modernism in the design sense: it is a North American city with deep and significant historical roots stretching back long before the American Revolution and much of the urban renewal that brought about New Boston occurred long-after the modernist ideal had been supplanted by later notions. But MIT was progressive in this sense, the legacy of which can still be seen  on its campus today.

Eero Saarinen, 1950

Saarinen at mid-century had a string of notable achievements and was a known quantity within the design community. His collaboration with Charles Eames resulted in recognition by the MOMA in New York City as well as their participation in the Case Study House program in California (Number 9 to be exact). Eero had spent a good portion of the 1940s working in his father's architecture firm but after the death of the elder Saarinen in July of 1950, the younger launched a shop of his own. At just 85 years old in that same year, MIT was something of a young university - particular compared to its many esteemed and much longer in the tooth neighbors. In some ways, it lacked the traditions that a school such as Harvard had by that time, which may account for it's more forward-thinking artistic engagements.

Interior, The MIT Chapel, photo by editor 2013

The Saarinen MIT commission spanned a period of approximately 6 years. After his selection by the university, Eero shifted his focus on a similar commission for Brandeis University in neighboring Waltham. The Saarinen chapel at Brandeis was eventually scrapped by the planning board as they could not come to an agreement on some of the basic details with the architect. Their loss was certainly MIT's gain, as Eero infused his next project with many of the more interesting and innovation design ideas that he had proposed for the larger structure at Brandeis. He also drew upon his travels in the mid-1930s through the ancient world, particularly Greece and specifically Sparta, which directly influenced his skylight design. Construction began in 1953 and was for the most part completed by 1955, although the roof sculpture was not added until the following year.

Podium sculpture, Harry Bertoia, The MIT Chapel, photo by editor 2013

The resulting building remains as stunning today as I expect it was on it's dedication day. Saarinen created a haven: a place of remarkable peace and tranquility. The brick, wood, and marble evokes the  pre-Christian world refashioned into something modern yet timeless. His use of light - both natural and artificial - is masterful.  The final touches are both contributions from other artists. Harry Bertoia, who like Eames had first met Eero at Cranbrook University, provided the metal sculpture which descends from the ceiling to the base of the podium/altar. Other writers have focused on the speculative literal meaning of the piece, but it is simply a beautiful accent that deflects the incoming light in a hundred different direction. Interpret it as you wish. Theodore Roszak designed the abstract bell tower or spire which was added to the building in 1956.

The MIT Chapel is a singular structure: devoid of any denomination, yet vibrantly spiritual and a shrine to solace. I would expect - if not hope - that its chairs have been full these past couple of weeks. 

Alvin Lustig for JBL (1950)

Alvin Lustig, 1949

In a previous weblog entry, I quoted Charles Eames in saying "Eventually, everything connects." The concept is a favorite of mine and if you are a regular reader here, you will have seen that I often have been able to weave my various interests into the some sort of over-arching narrative. Today's entry is no exception, but designer Alvin Lustig makes such pursuits easy. Over the course of his brief 40 years on this planet, he was involved with books, magazines, interiors, architecture, furniture, industrial design, and company branding/identity. Born in Denver, Colorado he spent much of his early career in Los Angeles (with the exception of a brief spell as a student of Frank Lloyd Wright at Taliesin) before moving to New York City at age 29 to work as the Director of Visual Research for Look magazine, then in its ascension. A year later he began teaching. By the end of 1946 he returned to Los Angeles and opened up his own studio where he tried to eek out a living until he was forced to move back to New York in 1951. As a result of diabetes, Lustig lost his sight in 1954 and he died a year later due to complications around that disease.

Jim Lansing Signature Speakers brochure by Alvin Lustig, 1950 (front)

One of Lustig's clients during his second tenure in Los Angeles was the fledgling James B. Lansing Sound. The story of legendary amplified sound pioneer James Bullough Lansing (born James Martini, making him a suspected Italian-American. Cough.) is rather complicated, but in short he began to manufacture loudspeaker in LA in 1927 as the Lansing Manufacturing Company. After his business partner was killed in a plan crash, Lansing's company floundered was was purchased by Altec in 1941. Lansing was contracted with the company through 1946, but parted ways before that contract expired. James B. Lansing Sound, Inc. was founded in 1946, although Lansing again struggled to keep the company afloat and took his own life on his ranch in San Marcos, California just north of San Diego in the Autumn of 1949. Control of the company reverted to Vice President Bill Thomas who was able to parlay the company's sound innovations into a successful business. The company changed it's brand name to JBL in 1955 to settle its ongoing disputes with Altec Lansing. Fast forward fifty-seven years later and the name JBL is known the world-over.

Jim Lansing Model 375 label detail, early-1950s

As part of this chaotic transition, Thomas and James Lansing Sound, Inc. engaged Lustig to assist them with re-branding their company. Unfortunately, there is very little documented information about when Lustig was contracted for the work, but one may assume that it may very well have happened after Lansing's death. Similarly, little is known about the depth of his engagement and how much it increased in scope after his association. What is known, is that by mid-1950 Lustig had overhauled the company's brand identity. That year's brochure was a beautiful example of postwar California modernist graphic design and is a unique item in Lustig's portfolio. It also introduced a logo hallmark (the "Jim Lansing" sans serif font contrasted with the "L" script) that would grace most of Lansing's speakers through the 1955. 

Jim Lansing D-175 speaker driver decal detail, early-1950s

Jim Lansing by Ampex logo variation, early-1950s

In additional to the graphic design work, Lustig's scope of services included design consulting with their speaker enclosures, namely the C34 through C39 series. Again, details are illusive in terms of his exact contributions and the Internet is teeming with vintage-JBL enthusiasts who are more than happy to share their knowledge and educated guesses. But after taking one look at the speaker enclosures from this time period, it is easy to speculate about Lustig's input.

JBL C39 Harlan speaker enclosure, 1956

Lustig's association with the soon-to-be-JBL was obviously brief. The company introduced very little to  it's branding until the mid-1950s transition and Lustig's move to New York, followed by his death meant that there was little future for the partnership. What he did do is very successfully transition the branding of the company to something very cutting-edge and modern: a graphic representation of the products the company was becoming known for. By mid-decade, JBL was being mentioned in Life magazine and the rest, as it's been said, is history.

Jim Lansing Signature Speakers brochure by Alvin Lustig, 1950 (rear)

Fender Telecaster (1951)

2011 Fender 1951 reissue "Nocaster", made in Corona, California 

To say much has been written about the Fender Telecaster, would indeed be an understatement. Officially introduced in 1951 by Leo Fender's then small Los Angeles County-based musical instrument operation, it arguably the most-popular electric guitar ever, transcending genres and generations. There are plenty of excellent online resources from a musician's and guitar geek's perspective, including a message forum dedicated entirely to the guitar. But what interests me most from the perspective of this weblog is the Fender Telecaster as an icon of modern California design.

2011 LACMA Exhibit Book, available here

A few weeks ago, I caught the tail-end of the LACMA's California Design, 1930-1965 "Living in a Modern Way". It was an excellent exhibit that did a great job of not only presenting the classics, but also making a good case for the zeitgeist modern California design. For example, just a few feet from an amazing recreation of the living room of Charles and Ray Eames was a pair of surfboards designed by Hobart "Hobie" Alter and Greg Noll. This sparked an interesting conversation between my brother and I about the validity of presenting two disparate design pieces that socially, if not culturally, may or may not have little to do with one another. It also successfully got my brain thinking more about how cultural trends did influence various industries. And this, in turn, got me to thinking a bit more about Leo Fender's Telecaster.

Eames living room re-creation (left), Hobie and Noll surfboards (right), LACMA, 2012

While conspicuously absent in the LACMA exhibit, the first commercially successful solid-body electric Spanish or standard (as opposed to Hawaiian or lap steel) guitar meets much of the criteria of California modernism. It can trace it's design heritage back to 1948 with the first prototype being produced in 1949. Leo Fender had a small operation at the time based in Santa Ana, California (40 miles West of the Eames home in the Pacific Palisades and the Coast). The big band era was in its last few bars and small combos were becoming the new economic reality in modern jazz, rhythm and blues, and western swing music. As the standard guitar gained became more prevalent as a front-line instrument (not just a part of the rhythm section), so the need arose for a cost-effective amplified instrument. Leo was keenly aware of this. 

 Leo Fender, early-1950s

Fender's axiom was that this new guitar had to be cost-effective to both make and sell. It also had to be simple and easy to service. Furthermore it needed to address the musical concerns of being easy to play as a lead instrument and able to be amplified at loud volumes without causing the loud, offensive sound known as "feedback" - that howling sound everyone panics about that you've heard come from the PA system at street fairs. You know the sound.

1951 advertising insert

What follows next is a textbook example of "form follows function", the modern design principle introduced by Louis Sullivan at the end of the 19th Century. The guitar Fender created addressed all of those needs remarkably well and was soon available commercially for $189 (approximately $1,500 in today's dollars). This was an affordable, versatile tool that reflected the times and has since proven to be timeless. From a strict design perspective the Telecaster sits comfortably alongside the wooden Eames Lounge Chair (1946) and molded plastic Side Chair (1948), as well as the surfboard designs mentioned earlier. One could almost believe that they all came from the same design firm. Well, almost. Fender was being self-consciously modern to some extent. He did desire to break from the traditional guitar shape, again very much following the functional needs of the burgeoning lead guitarist. Early advertising was very much aware of this and, in fact, used the term "modern" freely.

Heywood-Wakefield M308 Side Table(s), c.1950

Lines and shapes aside, the color and finish was meant to emulate contemporary "blonde" furniture, still a relatively new trend in the early-1950s. More than any other single firm, this was popularized by Massachusetts-based Heywood-Wakefield starting with their mid-1930s "Modern Series", itself influenced heavily by European (primarily French) Deco designs and styles. The look was particularly popular in affluent Southern California and did reflect some degree of the aspiration of the time. Long-before collectors started talking about butterscotch finishes, Fender Telecasters were blondes. 

1952 magazine advertisement

After a rocky start which saw 2 name changes, some minor legal squabbles, and a bit of tweaking; the Fender Telecaster as we pretty much know it today was available for purchase in local music stores in 1951. Fender was smart in that he got it the hands of everyone from Jimmy Bryant to Les Paul to Barney Kessel. Not only did it become tremendously popular with the working-class western swing and country bands playing throughout the State, but with the rise of rock & roll, it became standard Hollywood studio issue. By the end of the decade it was everywhere, from TV (NBC's legendary Peter Gunn theme featuring Bob Bain) to radio (James Burton on nearly every Ricky Nelson hit from 1958 onwards to name just one player) and beyond.

Barney Kessel, Fender Telecaster, c.1958

Was Leo Fender a modernist? Of course, although I doubt very highly he thought of himself as such or even would care about being mentioned in the same breath as Charles Eames. As proud of his achievements as he was over the years, I am sure he thought of himself as a pragmatist first and foremost. But for our discussion's sake, he was a modern man, to be sure.

Postscript - Although Fender sold the company a long time ago, you can still buy a brand new made in California Fender Telecaster today which has truly changed very little in the past 61 years.

Executive Suite (1954)

"Eventually, everything connects." - Charles Eames

The missus and I spent Sunday afternoon at the beautiful Rafael Theater in downtown San Rafael. The occasion? A screening of the new documentary on Charles & Ray Eames. 

The theater was originally built in 1920 as The Orpheus. A fire in 1937 forced a temporary closure, but the subsequent renovations resulted in the art deco beauty that the current theater still retains. The Rafael originally operated from 1938 until the 1989 earthquake, at which time it again closed. 11 years later it re--opened and currently is operated as a non-profit by the California Film Institute.

The documentary, EAMES: The Architect and The Painter, by Jason Cohn and Bill Jersey has been in production for the past 6 years or so and premiered earlier this year at The Mill Valley Film Festival. It very much exceeded my expectations and I happily recommend it. It currently has a limited run, is scheduled to be shown on public television later this month and will be out on DVD shortly thereafter.

The quote from the film that has stayed with me is the one that provided an introduction to today's weblog. Eventually, everything DOES connect. This is something I have experienced time and time again in both life (in general) and over the course of writing this blog (to be more specific). Case in point: the 1954 film Executive Suite.

Executive Suite was referenced in passing by the Eames documentary as an early illustration of the cultural notoriety of Charles Eames. It clearly shows that Hollywood, if not mainstream America, did have some sense of postwar modernism if even at its most basic level. Focusing on what happens to a Pennsylvania furniture manufacturer when it's CEO passes away without leaving a successor, it is an interesting film that obvious had a major influence on the Coen Brothers The Hudsucker Proxy (perhaps my favorite film of theirs). Interestingly, the DVD commentary is by Oliver Stone who professes the influence the film had on his own Wall Street.

There are interesting aspects and Easter eggs galore in this film. Edward R. Murrow provides the opening narration. Second unit was shot on location in New York City. It's one of the only major studio films ever shot that lacks a musical score. Producer John Houseman (yes, THAT John Houseman of Mercury Theater and Smith-Barney fame). Shelly Winters. But (and this is where it gets interesting) there are also several other connections to a few of the topics that I have covered before on this weblog.

William Holden and Barbara Stanwyck on the set of Executive Suite, 1954

William Holden, of course, has been mentioned here at A Modernist before. While he was shooting Sabrina with Audrey Hepburn in the Spring of 1954, Executive Suite opened in theaters in April. In my previous post, I focused on Holden's wardrobe in Sabrina - more specifically the Ivy League look of his "playboy" character. Here again in Executive Suite,  Holden spends much of this film in 3/2 sack suits and button-down shirts. Hardly a playboy, this character is a creative innovator - an artist working in a commercial context. He spends his time sketching ideas. He has a home studio with is very obviously based on someone's visit to the Eames studio in Santa Monica. He gives a rousing speech at the film's end that (rather succinctly, I should add) makes the case for modernism. If you don't mind spoilers, you can watch the scene in question here. It really does give some historical context to what people like Eames, Eero Saarinen, and (perhaps to a lesser extent) George Nelson where striving for. 

June Allyson and William Holden, Executive Suite, 1954

And of course, the connections don't stop there. Executive Suite was directed by Robert Wise. Wise, of course, later went on to direct I Want To Live! in 1958 (featuring a musical cameo by Gerry Mulligan) and perhaps one of the best late period-Noir films Odds Against Tomorrow which starred Harry Belafonte as a jazz musician caught up in one really bad situation. But more to the point Wise co-directed the film of West Side Story in 1961 with Jerome Robbins. And how I managed to make it through my last post without mentioning either is beyond me. But, eventually, everything connects!

Directors Robbins and Wise on the set of West Side Story, 1961

Postscript: Although it took me years to realize it, I've known the films (which the new documentary gives ample time to) of Charles & Ray Eames for years. Like many of my generation, I grew up seeing 1977's Powers of Ten in school in both Middle and High School. It still fascinates me.

Arts & Architecture (1938-1967)

My buddy Dan (or Grumpy Dan as the wife affectionately calls him) just hipped me to QUITE an online resource for all of us fans of Arts & Architecture magazine. For a good solid chunk of the 20th Century, this journal was a West Coast clearinghouse for all things modern spotlighting nearly all of the greats and just as many who now languish in obscurity. Thanks to Taschen (who really do want you to buy their product - and you should, if you can afford it), there is a wealth of info on this site including excerpted issues in PDF format and art/poster-sized reproductions of some of the amazing covers. It really is worth a few hours of your time. Here is a sample of one of the covers, this one designed by Ray Eames in 1943 or thereabouts.