Detlef Mertins
1. Thinking : Things and Time
Among the numerous architectonic figures devised by John Hejduk in his work Vladivostok, two may be considered allegories for propositions that underlie the work itself : the Clock/Collapse of Time, which was constructed on Bedford Square in London, is emblematic of a radical reconfiguration of time, while the Object/Subject, installed in Philadelphia, exemplifies Hejduk's conception of architectural thought, of thought embodied in things.
    The Clock is a perfectly aligned column of smooth wooden cubes, idealized pure forms carrying digital numbers in ascending sequence. The tower's caisson is made of rough-hewn timber with metal connectors and is fastened to steel axles with wheels that rest on steel rails. For Hejduk, "The clock tower on the caisson can be moved from place to place, from time to time." This spatial and temporal mobility may also be understood to be internalized in the structure of the caisson itself, which accommodates the Clock in positions that are analogous to different models of time. Not only does the Clock / Collapse of Time travel through time, but it enables time to travel through it. According to Hejduk, "The clock tower moves through spatial time, elevational, flat time (90 degrees), then angular, isometric time (45 degrees), finally horizontal, perspective time (0 degrees)."1 Presenting these different positions of time together, and in a way that fuses time and space into suggestive, although ambiguous, paradigms of knowledge (spatial time, flat time, perspective time...) effectively dissolves the opposition between linear and cyclical time, between history and the eternal return, without positing a new temporal construct. Time as such collapses into a kind of timelessness (could this be what "spatial time" implies ?), which is distinguished from the timelessness of idealist classicism, for instance, as a composite of "times," a ruin of temporality in which the spirits of all times intermingle. John Hejduk's work over the past decade has depended on this simultaneous construction and collapse of time in order to depict haunting scenes that are at one and the same time preindustrial, industrial, and postindustrial, that evoke many times, but are out of place in all times and could be conceived only in this time.
    The Object / Subject is a pair of almost identical anthropomorphic constructions that enact a mating ritual. Each of the Object / Subject pair consists of a cube made of uniform smooth panels that are tautly bolted in place and supported on four posts with cross-bracing. The legs are just a little taller than the height of the cubic torso. Each of these two Object / Subjects has a communication disk on top and a side arm supporting a miniature version of itself with window / eyes and spiky ears. Where one figure has a single wedge-shaped projection on its "front" side, the other has two wedges that create a space perfectly formed to receive the wedge of the other figure. The two are positioned to suggest their intimate communication and immanent coupling.
    It is significant that Hejduk's Object / Subject is not a single object, and does not serve to figure an organic resolution of the subject / object split. Instead, Hejduk presents the interplay of two objects that are almost interchangeable and potentially interlocked —neither is solely "the object" nor "the subject." In fact, each construction bears a double inscription as both object and subject, autonomous form and immanent spirit. In Hejduk's metaphorical terms, they may be considered to be inert matter shaped by the hand and then brought to life by The Breath of Bacchus :
  1. Your Carrara lips part
  2. inhaling softly a whisper
  3. which disappears into the grey hollow
  4. of a voided stone...
  5. your creator made a miracle
  6. through the surface
  7. of his hands and wrists
  8. he blew air into your
  9. impenetrable white marble
  10. producing the first
  11. inanimate sigh
  12. silencing all sound2
Hejduk's embodiment of the subject / object duality in gendered and spiritualized architectonic figures takes the ostensibly natural question of human dividedness out of the realm of philosophy (ontology and epistemology) and places it squarely into the world of human production and artifice. Here in the rich, fictive, cultural world, the question of human dividedness is continually renegotiated in the fabrication of tangible things, of artifice, rather than in abstract terms. "Art," Hejduk writes "Evening in Llano," "be it painting, literature, or architecture, is the remaining shell of thought. Actual thought is of no substance. We cannot actually see thought, we can see only its remains. Thought manifests itself by its shucking or shedding of itself; it is beyond its confinement."3
    The shell of thought is a metaphor for the objectification of the subject, a process understood to be akin to the productivity of an organism like a lizard shedding its skin, a natural by-product of spiritual life involuntarily generated by the body. Because the spirit continually leaves its shells behind as it moves on, these remaining shells represent something of the ineffable mystery that will forever elude the subject, slipping past its technologies of knowledge and resisting assimilation by theory. The shell of thought is that aspect of the subject that overflows the subject, but to which the Object / Subject teasingly leads our reflections. The Object / Subject is, finally, the shell of Hejduk's own thought about the subject / object relationship; it is his summary metaphor for the role of architecture as the fabrication of thoughtful things that are at the same time natural and artificial, organism and machine.
    If the Clock / Collapse of Time suggests that Hejduk's work operates through the superposition of inherited temporal structures, then the Object / Subject signals his mode of thinking through the production of things as well as words. Hejduk's sketches reveal how he works with objects, shaping and combining physical elements in a way that may be likened to language; and yet, language remains inadequate to their expression. He concretizes thoughts in imagistic object/subjects whose meaning continually eludes theory. It is Hejduk's ability to use the medium of architecture for thinking that has the greatest implication for the contemporary practice of architecture. This aspect of Hejduk's work compels us to rethink how architecture can serve as a communicative art in the public domain today.
2. Mask : Transparency and Opacity
Vladivostok may be taken as a critical and melancholic vision of contemporary urban society. The catalog of figures that introduces the work is an accumulation of characteristic social and urban types — institutions, social roles, building types, public spaces, and machines — costumed and scripted as self-propelling automata who perform their parts regardless of the presence or absence of an audience or victim. The guillotine of the Public Punishment Tower drops in a regular rhythm throughout the day although "the town never executes anyone." The book unfolds as a sequence of disjointed but interrelated tableaux in which Hejduk arranges his troupe to portray an analogous city that is a primitive, archaic, and originary version of the contemporary city. These timeless scenes — at once familiar and strange — make visible the mechanisms of social formation and deformation. In situating this analogous city in and out of time, Hejduk teases into the foreground the urban, institutional, and architectural texts through which life is constituted and played out. The carnivalesque re-presentation of the technologies of social administration turns them into spectacle and thereby makes them into sites for public discourse and, potentially, redemptive reoccupations and imaginative transformations. The radicality of this work registers in the degree to which the images disturb, unsettle, and prompt critical reflection.
    Hejduk's architecture, in both its drawn and built forms, exercises a peculiar and haunting power over the imagination — a power that resides primarily in the architectonic economy of mask — which is achieved by interlocking representational and non-representational techniques, combining the mimesis of types with various formal and expressive tactics. The thinking that Hejduk undertakes in Vladivostok leaves behind not only a portrait of urban and social bondage but also a portrait of architecture bound to the shells of thoughts about itself Like a film about the making of a film, Hejduk's Vladivostok is a book about the making of a book, depicting an architecture about the making of architecture. Of course, this statement needs to be immediately qualified, for there is nothing rationalist about Hejduk's architecture. Nor does it participate in the modernist self-disclosure of construction, material integrity, internal order, or function. Instead materials, means of construction, and internal order are rendered mysterious while being signified. The lesson taught by Hejduk's architecture rests in his unsurpassed skill in constructing such mysteries and in leading the viewer into a state of contemplation about society and about architecture's role within it — a critical and distanced contemplation that has neither beginning nor end and that defies logical progression, taking instead a myriad of detours and digressions that circumnavigate, but never quite locate, truth or meaning.
    Though my interest is primarily in Hejduk's architectonics, a great deal of the power of Vladivostok derives from Hejduk's ability to set title, text, image, and architectonic in provocative relationship to each other, without one dominating the other. Hejduk skillfully maintains the gap between signifier and signified by calling on the beholder's imagination to construct bridges or to dwell in the abyssal gap of meaninglessness. To demonstrate their arbitrariness as signs, it is significant that two of Hejduk's actors have appeared in different roles. The House of the Painter in the Berlin Masque also played The Old Farmer's House in the Lancaster / Hanover Masque; similarly, The House of the Musician in Berlin was The Widow's House in Lancaster / Hanover.
    If we focus on the corporeal presence that Hejduk gives to his troupe of institutions, personalities, and urban forms — such as Senate / Council, Cultural Center, Mayor / Cardinal, and Typical Street — it is possible to discern the existence of a second troupe, an extensive repertoire of architectonic types, elements, and devices that are immensely powerful in their own right. In designing these figures, Hejduk mobilizes architecture as a medium in a way that draws on two practices that have been opposed over the past two hundred years: allegory and expression. If the Clock / Collapse of Time signals the folding together of cyclical and linear time into a state of timelessness, then Hejduk's conception of the medium of architecture likewise folds together devices associated with representational theories of architecture, such as mimesis (imitation), and tactics that were developed as architects sought to step outside of representation and memory. Hejduk's work revisits modern architecture's problematic relationship to mimesis, which, since the collapse of confidence in classicist representation during the eighteenth century, has haunted the discipline and confused its social role. Hejduk's work negotiates a recuperation of representation by absorbing the results of anti-mimetic research about the nature of architecture and of perception into the representational devices of type, memory, body, and image, thereby collapsing into a revitalized theatricality two centuries of effort aimed at transparency of "form" and "expression." Hejduk passes techniques once considered transparent to meaning back into the opacity of the mask: these shells are capable of evoking in ways that are both direct and indirect, that engage conventions and associations as well as the perceptual apparatus of the body.
    Be they animistic, anthropomorphic, or architectonic, Hejduk's troupe of Object / Subjects is composed largely of archetypal forms — variations on house, tower, block, slab, theater, gate, pavilion, garden, labyrinth, street, square, bridge, machine, and sphinx. While this list goes well beyond Quatremère de Quincy's originary types for architecture — the hut, the cave, and the tent — Quatremère's meaning of type as "the root of" or "preexistent germ" has implicitly been reactivated, along with its role in a theory of imitation, not as the naturalistic presentation of reality, but as "a necessary fiction that supplies its place."4 But where Quatremère invokes the idea of type to buttress the waning authority of classicism, it is precisely such authority that Hejduk's work renders problematic. Quatremère's pleasure in evoking the originary type is displaced by Hejduk's melancholy about institutionalization. Hejduk's depiction of the originary within modernity is acutely critical and works to unlock the violence and repression ordinarily suppressed by modern social institutions — Ministries, Museums, Cemeteries, Guards — and disciplined by architecture. Hejduk's mimesis does not refer to ideal types but rather seeks to illuminate and consequently redeem the types that govern ordinary life. The melancholy of his objects arises from the tension of working within the historical and material reality of modern life to bring out the repressed and the redeeming in the same transformative movement.
    In addition to his architectural typology, Hejduk also mobilizes a repertoire of building elements, some of which have already been noted in my description of the Clock / Collapse of Time and the Object / Subject. The built projects exhibit a stark elementalism and deploy an apparently self-disclosing tectonic system of simple structural frames in wood or steel with panel cladding. Despite the patent tactility of the works, no rationalist interpretation can account for their strange indifference to material or the constructional mysteries that have presented themselves to builders working from Hejduk's apparently straightforward "construction drawings." Instead, constructive elementalism has been drawn into an exchange between theatrical and formal / expressive practices.
3. Biography : Practice and Theory
Hejduk once explained in an interview the process by which he studies the works and writings of other architects and artists, how — in the terms of the interviewer-he "processes information which is historical"or — in the terms I have been using — how he thinks and works through the shells of thought about architecture that others have left behind. His reply is revealing :
  1. It's strange. This is a good question. Well fundamentally I read them but I don't read    them. I'll give you an example using Corb. From 1953 to 1963, I would take Corb hooks and just pore over them, looking at them, night after night, literally, just going through the hooks, a thousand times, until I had absorbed Corbusier... absorbed the images, the organizations, into me as an organism, like blotting paper. Now I don't have to look at them.5
While "absorption" already suggests a process of transformation or at least emulation, rather than "copying," Hejduk uses the term "exorcise" elsewhere in the same interview.
  1. ....I exorcised Le Corbusier in the Diamond Houses. The Diamond Houses, outside of their conceptual basis, always annoyed me... there were the Corb overtones. I didn't like that. I liked the isometric systems at work but I didn't like the fact that they reminded me of Le Corbusier. So I had to get rid of that, by working it out, by exorcising the images.. So, there it is : always being attached with an ombilical cord to all these things, in compressed time.6
For Hejduk, thinking through the shells of architectural thought in compressed or collapsed time means working through this condition of umbilical binding that is both life-giving and constraining, a condition of "no exit." It means not only internalizing and personalizing the work of others, but drawing from it formal principles and devices — in the case of Le Corbusier taking the "conceptual basis" and the "isometric systems at work" — and exorcising "image" and "overtone."
    In recalling the influences on his student work in the period 1947-50, Hejduk lists an unexpectedly mixed, although for that period typical, constellation of figures: the tail end of the Bauhaus with Walter Gropius at Harvard, Josef Albers at Black Mountain, the Catalano-Caminos group under Henry Kamphofner, Oklahoma and Bruce Goff, Herb Green, Frank Lloyd Wright, Alvar Aalto, Paul Klee and, finally, Le Corbusier, to whose work he was initially opposed. "I was very anti-Corbusier. Very. I was empathetic to Wright, somewhat to Aalto." In contrast, his initial studies at The Cooper Union were less "structured," more emotionally based and intuitive. "The work was poured out, felt out. One sketched them out, drew them out, without a structural frame" (referring probably to the "structuring framework" of precedent rather than literally to a building structure).
    While I do not intend to belabor these autobiographical statements, they do serve to reinforce what is evident in the work itself, namely that Hejduk has developed his architectural repertoire by working freely from the shells of architectural thoughts, absorbing and working through inherited paradigms of architecture, moving toward the articulation of formal concepts and modes of expression, which are then "poured out," "felt out," and "drawn out." What interests me about the more recent projects is the explicitness with which this process is itself represented formally and how this explicitness in the work is at odds with the conventional image of Hejduk's work as un-theoretical and even resistant to theory. My purpose is to thematize this embodied self-reflexivity about the medium of architecture, to draw out the implications of Hejduk's absorptive and poured-out practice. While an aura of mystery and poetics has been constructed around his work through careful appropriations and hybridixations that forget their source, it may be revealing to reconnect the formal devices that Hejduk has absorbed to the theories of representation and nonrepresentation that they were initially linked to. The implications of Hejduk's practice as exemplified in Vladivostok are, I believe, greatest with respect to his undeclared work on the structures or shells that mediate architecture as a mode of thought.
4. Nature : Form and Expression
If John Hejduk's work may be thought to conflate premodern representation and modern expression into a postmodern Verwindung of their opposition, then its affinity with the architecture of Claude-Nicolas Ledoux should not be surprising, for Ledoux's classicism distorted the conventions of premodern representation in the direction of natural expression at the beginning rather than at the end of the experiments of modernism. Ledoux's distortions help identify three important lines of research that may be taken as early versions of twentieth-century functionalism, formalism, and expressionism, which Hejduk's work may be understood to have "absorbed" and "exorcised." Over the course of his career, Ledoux moved from Jacques-François Blondel's version of the theory of imitation, as the emblematic and stylistic representation of character, toward the expression of internal organization (modeled on the natural sciences), elemental architectonics (based on descriptive geometry, stereotomy, and crystallography), and the physiognomic expression of personal character. Where architectural characterization had previously been understood as a rhetorical practice that aimed to make a building conform to and communicate the social role of its owner or program, eighteenth-century critiques of rhetoric, theatricality, and allegory sparked formal experiments in architecture that sought to eliminate the use of conventions or applied signs in favor of the direct expression of the inner nature of a building. This practice would not require instruction or learning on the part of its audience, but would be instead universally legible as a natural language.
    As Anthony Vidler has pointed out, Ledoux's putative practice of architectural expression is first evident in his project for the prison at Aix-en-Provence. Modeled on analyses of animal morphology and the classification of plants, the expression of a building's nature was first to be achieved as a totality through its organization, or more precisely by making its internal organization legible externally. Secondly, Ledoux, like his contemporary Le Camus de Mézières, developed a psychologized theory of characterization from the physiognomic readings of nature and people. For Le Camus, nature provided a model of how emotions and ideas might be evoked. He noted that in nature "each object possesses a character that is suitable for it, and that often a single line, a simple contour suffices to express it." Similar propositions were developed by the Swiss pastor-scientist Johann Caspar Lavater, who, in Essays in Physiognomy (1775-78) proposed that careful analysis of the "characteristic lines" of a person's face, the contours and surfaces of the head, could reveal the nature of the soul within. For his prison at Aix, Ledoux studied the physiognomy of "the criminal" and then, as Vidler observes, "welded a veritable 'expression' of criminality — heavy, lowering walls, slit-like 'eyes,' and a forbidding 'mouth' — to a set of antique references, primarily funereal architecture, by means of an abstract three-dimensional geometry"7
    Ledoux continued this search for natural symbols in his designs for the Ideal City, not only for institutional buildings, but also for the various houses of the métiers of the forest-the wood-cutters, charcoalburners, barrel makers, and agricultural guards. In these houses the outward expression of internal organization was augmented by emphatic visual metaphors, making hieroglyphic signs out of material drawn from the occupations of the inhabitants. The house and workshop of the charcoal-burners, for example, was modeled on the pyramidal constructions typically used for the manufacture of charcoal; and the house of the surveyor of the river was akin to a segment of a giant pipe or aqueduct with water flowing through it. In all of these cases, the language of the classical orders gave way to a combinatorial play of elements, some of which were abstracted mutations of antique forms — porticoes, pediments, drums, colonnades — while others were derived from objects or constructions associated with work and industry. Regardless of their source, however, Ledoux's architectonic repertoire was treated elementally and geometrically in ways that were to conform to and symbolize the principles of descriptive geometry, stereotomy, and crystallography. In effect, the received elements of classical architecture were reformed according to the inorganic sciences, from which the notion of the pure architectonic received its characteristic properties.8
    As Emil Kaufmann implied in his groundbreaking prehistory of architectural modernism, Von Ledoux bis Le Corbusier (1933),9 Ledoux's experiments in organizational, physiognomic, and architectonic expression prepared the way for early twentieth-century modernism, including the architecture of Le Corbusier and the Bauhaus — two contexts for John Hejduk's early work. Of course, in the period between Ledoux and Le Corbusier, research and experimentation on architectural expression and self-disclosure were undertaken from every conceivable perspective that laid claim to knowledge — idealism, romanticism, positivism, historicism, historical materialism, symbolism, the renewal of idealism, and neoKantianism, as well as aesthetic theory informed by laboratory research into human perception. From these multifarious attempts to develop modern, non-representational modes of expression, I would like to draw on three paradigmatic architectural projects that extended the lines of research on transparent expression that I have cited in the work of Ledoux : Peter Behrens's schematic elementalism of 1902 to 1906; Walter Gropius's self-disclosing Bauhaus building at Dessau of 1925-26; and August Endell's empathetic form art of pure emotions, developed after 1896.
5. Exhibition : Schematic and Symbolic
Having grown disenchanted with Jugendstil, Peter Behrens turned to the work on geometric form, grids, and proportional systems undertaken by several Dutch architects — J.H. de Groot, K.P.C. de Bazel, PJ.H. Cuypers, H.P. Berlage, and J.L.M. Lauweriks — who were beginning their search for alternatives to historical styles as the generators of design10. In the case of Behrens, the resulting projects, especially the Northwest German Art Exhibition at Oldenburg (1905) and the Garden Exhibition in Düsseldorf (1904), are essays in an abstracted, schematic, and idealized classicism whose a-material wall surfaces display the underlying geometric principles that gave rise not only to the buildings but to everything from the site plan to the benches. This dream of prismatic elemental forms set in a geometrically regulated universal space, and displaying the conceptual and spatial schemata of architecture has affinities, in one direction, to Jean-Nicolas-Louis Durand and, in another, to the minimalism of Sol LeWitt.
    Behrens's Oldenburg project owes its modernism to two theoretical constructs : one neo-Kantian, the other derived from the scientific study of vision.11 In the Critique of Judgement, Immanuel Kant placed considerable emphasis on the intuitive presentation of concepts in opposition to their designation by accompanying signs, which he referred to as "mere characterization." In the section on "Beauty as the Symbol of Morality" Kant described two modes of hypotyposis, or exhibition, through which concepts are made sensible : schematic hypotyposis, on the one hand, which contains direct exhibitions of the concept and proceeds by demonstration, and symbolic hypotyposis, on the other hand, which can only be exhibited indirectly, by means of analogy. Cognition of Cod and the morally good, according to Kant, can only proceed symbolically, which provides both the necessity and the indeterminacy of beauty.12
    Because for Kant architecture was the least natural of all the arts, its unique role among them was to "exhibit concepts of things that are possible only through art, things whose form does not have nature as its determining basis, but instead has a chosen purpose, and of doing so in order to carry out that aim and yet also with aesthetic purposiveness."13 Working from the implications of this self-reflexive program for architecture, as well as the desire for a priori categories for aesthetic judgment comparable to those attributed by Kant to the faculties of understanding and reason, several figures associated with neo-Kantianism in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries attempted to formulate new models for interpreting the knowledge contained by the arts, including architecture. While Kant had come to the conclusion that there were no a priori categories for beauty, that its judgment depended in the end on genius, Conrad Fiedler in the 1880s proposed that art was a mode of cognition, like language, and that it constituted, rather than imitated, reality. For Fiedler, "The relation between thinking and speaking is to be understood such that thinking, which presents itself in language, comes into being only in and with language, not only indissolubly tied to speech, but identical with it."14 And focusing on logical rather than linguistic forms, the prominent Berlin philosopher Alois Riehl popularized the view that "the universal forms of knowledge treated by transcendental philosophy are logical, not psychological forms. Logical forms, however, originate in thought-intercourse; they have an historical, not a purely biological origin."15
    Following from neo-Kantians like Fiedler and Riehl, the art historians Heinrich Wölfflin and Aloïs Riegl sought to "discover" through empirical observation and comparative analysis, the underlying structures or forms of representation specific to historical periods. Wiiilfflin, for instance, discerned that the ways of seeing and representing during the Renaissance and neo-Classicism were "linear" — favoring closed, clear, pavillionated, and dead forms — in contrast to the "painterly" mode of the Baroque with its open, enlivened, unclear, and melded-together forms. Wölfflin's first version of this distinction in Renaissance and Baroque (1888) employed the analogy between buildings and bodies, familiar in classical theory, in a new way that was informed by psychology, especially the theories of empathy. Having posed the question, "What can be expressed by means of architecture at all ?" Wölfflin elaborated a response around the notion that architecture expresses the fundamental temper or mood of the age through the seemingly unmediated (or immediate) projection of inner feelings into objects. "We always project a corporeal state conforming to our own."16 On this assumption, Wölfflin was able to characterize the difference between Renaissance and Baroque architecture in highly evocative corporeal terms :
  1. [T]he slender, well-articulated figures of the Renaissance have been replaced by massive bodies, large, awkward, with bulging muscles and swirling draperies (the herculean)....Flesh is less solid, softer and flabbier than the taut muscles of the Renaissance figure. Limbs are not loosened, not free or mobile, but awkward and imprisoned; the figures do not progress beyond a state of mute compactness.17
    Wölfflin's argument that history consisted of the cyclical alternation of these moods was, in effect, a programmatic call for a new Germanic classicism, intended as a classicism of spirit and not of formal imitation — a call to which Behrens's abstract, systemic, and "natural" classicism was seen to respond.18 Behrens's interest in geometry was not, as it might first appear, neo-Platonic, but rather concerned classic elementary geometry understood as a logical, and hence necessary and universal, form of architectural composition, whose origins were, nevertheless, historically given. Bchrcns's clementalism was a way of thinking and composing that was seen to be essentially architectonic and self-referential, that clarified, generated, and regulated the Baukörper (the body of the building). It was the necessary condition for Gestaltung — the act of forming and structuring experience, space, and time, analogous to Kant's transcendental categories of space, time, and causality. His universalizing formalism sought to reveal the mediation of architectural formation in geometry, proportion, and grid.
    Behrens's use of opaque crystalline forms with delicately incised taut surfaces was informed, from another direction, by Adolf Hildebrand's optically based theory of art as set forward in The Problem of Form, published in 1893. On the "scientific" assumption that vision was fundamentally two-dimensional in keeping with the planarity of the retinal image — the perception of depth being dependent on touch and movement — Hildebrand developed a theory of form as the expression of internal or underlying structure that privileged relief.19 Where the painter was thought to give a visual impression of three-dimensional form on a twodimensional plane, the sculptor and — by extension the architect — "form something three-dimensional for the purpose of affording a plane visual impression."20 Just as Hildebrand's colleague the painter Hans von Marées invented a mode of representing depth on the plane that stratified space through the relief-like tactic of overlaying planes (similar to the later purism of Ozenfant and Le Corbusier), so Behrens's use of lines and geometric figures in solid and outline form achieved illusions of depth and spatiality without violating the surface integrity of the plane. This is particularly striking in the Crematorium at Delstern (1906-7) and the Third German Exhibition of Applied Art in Dresden (1906).
    Neo-Kantian researches into underlying schemata and perceptual modalities were thus applied to the task of reforming reality to conform to invisible laws. Such laws were thought to be manifest in geometric and spatial matrices, elemental opaque volumes and techniques of formal abstraction that came to be absorbed into the work of Le Corbusier and the teachings of the Bauhaus, among other avant-garde projects of the period between the wars.
6. Transparency : Literal and Phenomenal
That we should contemplate the continuity between Hejduk's recent projects and his earlier work on Corbusian form is suggested by Hejduk's own presentation of his oeuvre in the Mask of Medusa (1985). At several points in the otherwise straightforward chronology of projects, he interrupts the developmental flow with fragments of his then current work. So it is that, following Hejduk, we find the axonometrie of the Bernstein House (1968) juxtaposed with a model of three troubadours from the Berlin Masque (1983).21
    Unlike the earlier Diamond projects, which combined interior spatial density with exterior volumetric simplicity, the Bernstein House externalized its figural ambitions, pushing stair tower and chimney to the outside, leaving the interior rather empty. In terms of the wellknown distinction made by Colin Rowe and Robert Slutzky between literal and phenomenal transpareney, the Bernstein House is somewhat ambiguous.22 To explain this ambiguity, however, it is first necessary to extend Rowe and Slutzky's distinction in the direction of the preceding discussion about transparencies of form and expression, a direction that they did not pursue. By framing their discussion exclusively in perceptual terms and focusing on "spatial stratification" and the "interpenetration of primary concepts without optical destruction of each other," Rowe and Slutzky overlooked the epistemological preoccupation with transparency, a preoccupation equally embedded in the formalist tradition.
    The search for direct, intuitive presentations of concepts as an alternative to characterization, imitation, or systems of signs was not limited to neo-Kantian philosophy, and may be seen to be active not only in Le Corbusier but also in Gropius's Bauhaus at Dessau, not only in the curtain wall of the studio wing, but in the entire complex of buildings. Employing the medium of building (bauen) self-reflexively, Gropius intended each wing of the Bauhaus to be the direct and legible expression of its internal uses and organization as well as construction. In this respect the Bauhaus building belongs to the formalist program that insists on the achievement of internal coherence and the deliberate conformity of the artistic object with the inner laws of the medium. The rather minor differences between the building under construction and its final glazed and stuccoed condition demonstrates Gropius's construetivist claim that the building bodies itself forth directly, without representational mediation.23
    In contrast to the transparency of the Bauhaus, which Rowe-Slutzky pejoratively called "literal," the "phenomenal" transparency of the Villa Garches is distinguished by the indirectness of its self-disclosure and its reliance on the cognitive device of the facade to represent the three-dimensional internal order of the building. It might be added that Rowe-Slutzky's interpretation of the villa complies with Hildebrand's call to form three-dimensional objects in such a way as to "afford a planar visual impression" and that it was this doubleordered property of their analysis that prompted Rosalind Krauss's admiration in 1980. But as she noted, converting the assumption of transparent expression into the selfconscious "opacity" of the formalism of Stéphane Mallarmé and Viktor Shklovsky simply set up a "second order transparency" with claims to ontological certainty that were displaced in architectural theory only with the introduction of structutalist linguistics.24
    While the divisions, openings, and projections of the facade at Hejduk's Bernstein House register aspects of the interior in the manner of the Villa Gatches, the building could also be said to body itself forth more directly by placing elements of the interior on the outside and obscuring the representational device of the facade. This duplication of formal strategies for the disclosure of the inner being of the building effectively undermines both. Moreover, by emptying out the interior Hejduk problematizes the assumption that the object has an inner essence that is susceptible to external expression. The Bernstein House, then, signals not only a crisis in the modernist project of transparency — be it first or second order — but its conversion into the opacity of the mask for the Masque.
    What is so striking in comparing the animistic figures of the Berlin Masque (1983) with the revisionist Corbusian project (1968) is not only the new representational and associational explicitness of these objects, but their extreme opacity, in terms of both perception and meaning. Perhaps, it was this opacity that prompted Peter Eisenman to tell John Hejduk that his Berlin figures "are not architecture because you can't get in them." To which Hejduk replied "YOU can't get in them."25 Protecting the interior from physical, visual, and psychic penetration is a structural condition of the mask that serves to create the aura and mystery so important to Hejduk's safeguarding of the unknowable, the ostensible locale where essences reside. But Hejduk's reply to Eisenman may also signal the subterranean significance of another anti-mimetic discourse, that of empathy, which focuses on the ability of objects to stimulate feelings and on the transference of emotions into objects — projecting or feeling oneself into them rather than "understanding" them through theory.
7. Projection : Body and Feeling
At the same time that the stamped silhouetted figures of Hejduk's catalog recall the physiognomic studies of Lavater, and with them Ledoux's architectonic characters, they are perhaps more akin to the indeterminate woodcuts of Jugendstil and Expressionism, surrealist ink-blots, and caricatures. Where physiognomy sought to narrow the gap between form and immanent meaning, Hejduk's interweaving of form with narrative and program has been as carefully indeterminate and ambiguous as these early twentieth-century forms of expression. His object / subjects simply hint at the passage of thoughts and engage the viewer in an open state of reflection and reverie.
    While the idea that architecture could serve for contemplation in this way has several interlocking geneologics, I want to focus on the historical precursors of the emotionally charged formalism of the Bauhaus (KIee, Johannes Itten, Albers, Wassily Kandinsky) within the psychology of architecture and the theory of empathy. The theory of empathy (Einfühlung), as articulated in the last decades of the nineteenth and the first decades of the twentieth centuries, was a site on which many different strands of German thought converged — from romanticism, hermeneutics, formalist aesthetics, and psychology, to the science of human perception. The concern within empathy theory for the interpenetration of form and content, without recourse to representation, was formative for the expressionist strain of modern abstraction.26
    In On the Optical Sense of Form (Über das optische Formgefühl) published in 1872, Robert Vischer explained how he hoped to restore subject-object unity under the adverse conditions of self-consciousness imposed by the Enlightenment. Through a book by K.A. Schemer, The Life of Dreams (1861), Vischer had discovered that in the realm of dream or fantasy the body objectified itself in spatial forms under certain stimulations, and that in this transference of the body, the soul was also projected into the object. By explaining the excitement or stimulation of the intellect / spirit (Geist) with that of the body — something pursued in science by Wilhelm Wundt and Theodor Lipps and in art history by Heinrich Wölfflin — by finding those points in the darkness of the psyche "where soul and nerve-center are one," Vischer hoped to arrive at a formula for the synthetic restoration of "the deep, dark, certain, inward, and nevertheless free in-and-together feeling" with things, which had been lost to modern man. He went so far as to set out conditions for subject / object unity in the work of art, suggesting that objects be fashioned, as in a dream, so that their effect is harmonious, and that forms comply with the laws and construction of the sensory organs (especially the eye) and the body. The rules of symmetry, proportion, and the golden section were taken to be aspects of organic normalcy.27 For Vischer, architecture suggested the possibility that the whole world of appearance could be experienced as a projection of the human Ego, a proposition not fat removed from the modernist notion that reality itself was subject to redefinition through the subject, be it transcendental or materialist.
    In the years around 1900, Theodor Lipps, a philosopher and psychophysiologist, transformed empathy into a generalized theory of experience based on the idea that all activity is an objectification of the self. For Lipps, objects resulted from two conditions : something sensuously given and human activity, material, and form; and he considered form to be always "the being-formed-by-me," necessarily and self-evidently permeated by the life of the observer. "Empathy means that when I grasp an object... I experience a kind of self-activity as an attribute of the object."28
    Within Lipps's general psychology, empathy in art provided a special case, for the work of art immerses the observer in an ideal world, in whose depth it is possible to glimpse and illuminate what usually escapes the observation of reality. And, in a thought that intersects with the conception of modernity first articulated by Charles Baudelaire, he proposed that, through the work of art, insight may be gained into what is positive, vital, and active, within the negative, distracting, and odious.
    August Endell studied a mixture of psychology, aesthetics, and natural science under the tutelage of Lipps in Munich and in 1896 submitted a dissertation entitled Gefühlskonstruktion ("The Construction of Emotion"), which outlined a theory of emotive forms that he then applied to the decorative arts and architecture. He found in the art of his Jugendstil contemporaries, especially that of Herman Obrist, an exact counterpart for his emotion theory bridging psychology, physiology, and art. In the following years Endell taught himself art, became active as a designer, and established a reputation as the leading theorist of Jugendstil aesthetics.29
    In a pamphlet of 1896 titled Um die Schönheit ("About Beauty"), Endell denounced naturalism and proclaimed the sensuous immediacy of art, its utter independence from nature, and its essential quality of form and color, which were to be seen and felt, not "understood."30 He called for a new education to the enjoyment of art, for an awakening of the capacity to see and enjoy form and color, through which the experience of life would be intensified and the artistic mode of seeing would permeate all aspects of life. Endell wanted to abstract art not only from nature, but also from the conscious mind; he wanted to suggest the possibility of an art (and a reality) based solely on an engaged relationship between the object and the emotional constitution of the artist, and subsequently the observer.
    Endell called his empathetic art of pure forms and pure emotions Formart and described it as as bubbling up "out of the human soul." To understand formal beauty required a new way of seeing that would be attentive to visual form and detail. "Our eyes," he explained," must trace, minutely, every curve, every twist, every thickening, every contraction, in short we must experience every nuance of form.... The alert eye will everywhere observe forms of superb, soul-shattering magnificence. This is the power of form upon the mind, a direct, immediate influence without any intermediary stage..."31
    Endell demonstrated such notions in numerous designs for furniture, friezes, and graphics such as the ambiguous "crab" figure on the cover of Um die Schönheit. While there are of course numerous differences, the stamped profiles of John Hejduk's troupe in Vladivostok, which are certainly as elusive in their visual associations and meanings as Endell's more organic form, belong to the legacy of this kind of formal experiment. Similarly, Endell's much celebrated Elvira Photographic Studio with its "dragon" motif swirling around on the plain surface of the facade in red and turquoise, sustains comparison surprisingly well with Hejduk's fiery Devil's Bridge, especially given the unlikelihood of Hejduk's familiarity with Endell's work.
    Endell's articulation of this new way of seeing and of the psychological power of form brought this aspect of Jugendstil to theoretical clarity in a way that was immediately and profoundly influential. His widely published works and writings, as well as his teaching, belong to the prehistory of Bauhaus aesthetics. Peg Weiss has demonstrated, for instance, the significance of Endell's writings for the theories of Kandinsky, through whom empathy came into expressionism in both its prewar agonistic and postwar revolutionary-utopian phases. Psychologized formalism became what Klee described in 1928 as "the science of art, including the unknown quantity 'x'," a science brought to the United States by figures such as Gropius and Albers, who Hejduk cited as influences at the end of the 1940s, as well as Rudolf Arnheim, whose writings systematized earlier experimental work on "visual thinking."
    Believing that color theory was already well-developed by painters, Endell drew on the optical experiments of Lipps to devise a theory of the emotional effects of form. Lipps's well-illustrated book described the different effects of points, lines, and forms, illusions of relative size and directionality, dynamic as well as static properties, and above all the capacity of forms to induce feelings of expansion, contraction, tension, and rhythm. For Endell, feelings associated with qualities such as warmth or coldness, heaviness or lightness, the terrifying or the energetic could be expressed through tempo and tension and then translated into lines and complexes of lines, in a way that would parallel the expression of feelings through tonal complexes in music. He used architectural examples to show bow the manipulation of simple elements and proportions could produce varied emotional responses. A tall thin house with narrow vertical windows was interpreted as "not sympathetic," too hard and busy. In contrast, a low horizontal house with horizontally emphasized windows seemed "almost too comfortable." A facade with a balanced combination of forms, however, was considered to have "mild energy" and a "peaceful security."32
    While the claim of such studies to describe a "natural" system of expression operating outside of conventional systems of signs was challenged as early as 1956 by Ernst Gombrich,33 Hejduk has turned in recent projects, like the House of the Quadruplets in Berlin, to using the effects of contraction and tension in steep roofs, small openings, repeated projections, and compressed interstitial spaces. Hejduk's use is neither outside of conventions nor independent of formal structures, but is rather in agreement with them; he does not aim to determine meaning scientifically and theoretically, but instead problcmatizes such presumptions.
8. Subject : Perception and Contemplation
in Mask of Medusa, Hejduk could hardly be more explicit about the ways in which in the work of his early period, "Frame 1——1947—1954," a perceiving, feeling, and imagining subject was inscribed. Including his abstract characterizations of Aesop's Fables, rustic grottos, surrealist landscapes for the dead, animated pavilions for a country fair or a zoological park, and the evocative and emotive architectural abstractions of his Italian sketches. That he considered these of consequence for his later work is signaled by the insertion of sketches for the Berlin Masque at the end of this "frame."
    Unlike the transcendentalizing schematism of Behrens's exhibition projects, or its reprise in the conceptual formalism of American Minimalism, Hejduk's work has never excluded the psychological or physiological. Even the most cubic and reduced of his early projects, the memorial to Dag Hammerskjold from the mid-1960s, is not only a pure and clear architectonic (in his words "a geometric fundamental"), but an apparatus for viewing the context in unexpected and stimulating ways. Set on the lawn of the United Nations, the monument anticipated a moving observer experiencing the object in its surroundings and then perceiving its surroundings through the object. Like so much of his later work, this cube is hollow and almost entirely devoid of openings. However, five small apertures direct the observer's gaze to selected views of the UN Building, the water, nature, city, and sky. Instead of structuring the subject to conform to the a priori categories of the mind, Hejduk's cube mediates between observer and environment (subject and object), setting up possibilities for relational "experiences" without determining their content, duration, or sequence.
    The spiky and troubled cube of the more recent House of the Suicide has stepped through the looking glass of transcendental and perceptual subjectivities. There, the subject has turned away from externalities altogether, taking refuge in the self and the mind, represented by an anthropomorphosized block with a single door, a slot along one side, a tiny square window, and pinpoints of light coming from the tips of the numerous spikes. But, unlike the inwardness of the symbolists or even the surrealists (who took the interior of the unconscious as a site of creative productivity, Hejduk's house is somewhat misnamed for it is the town and not the inhabitant that welds the door shut, sealing off — not through a metaphysical or epistemological turn, but through social action imposed on the individual — the very possibility of an "outside." The house becomes a prison cell that configures the double bind depicted by jean-Paul Sartre's No Exit — that one can't live with others, but neither can one live without them. Alone and isolated, the subject is no longer figured as a generator or producer of meaning and reality; deprived of externalities this subject is left with only the possibility of death.
    Hejduk's drawings of the House of the Suicide reveal something of what he absorbed from the modern researches into nonrepresentational modes of communication outlined above. They show him testing the psychological and associational affects of different formal arrangements in the detailed way of seeing promoted by Endell : studying alternative locations and dimensions for the openings, angles and length of the spikes, division of paneling, and color. Focusing on his design practice, one might conclude that Hejduk has successfully converted the formal devices of modern architecture into theatrical performance, discharging claims to ontology, and placing them instead in the service of new social needs and programs, that are, themselves, attempting to work through the legacy of modernism. But, if we focus on the objects, it remains uncertain as to whether they signal a renewal of architecture or simply its ruin. While Hejduk has written of the imminent collapse and death of the "discipline" of architecture, even the tone of this text remains ambiguous, oscillating between ominous prediction and the barely-restrained desire for a phoenix-like rebirth.34
    Hejduk has found himself, somewhat uncomfortably, on the threshold between the modern and the postmodern, between the era in which artists were thought to produce works through internalization, absorption, synthesis, and distillation, generating new states of energy like a thermodynamic engine, and an era preoccupied with the mediations of knowledge, systems of signification, communication, and power, in which work itself is being redefined as arrangement, manipulation, and regulation within given networks rather than as original production. Like many so-called critical architectural and artistic practices, Hejduk hovers somewhere between these two domains, still dependent on the institutions created for the modern autonomous artist (schools, museums, publications) and still operating as a consciousness lurking outside the matter at hand — a voice without an audio hook-up.
    Vladivostok is a melancholic portrait of architecture's disciplinary dependence on the past, especially the recent past of modernism. It is a performance in which the authors and subjects of inherited architectures have been exorcised from the shells of their thought. Depleted and emptied out, what remains is an inventory of mute and (finally) opaque objects, architectural elements, and formal devices, which Hejduk deploys in the most skillful and decadent manner-decadent in the sense of being self-consciously at the end of an era and deliberately reworking the "achievements" of that era now heading for ruin. But, for all his tilting toward the postmodern and his embrace of allegory and theatricality, Hejduk remains locked in the model of artistic production based on individual "absorption" and "pouring out." He resists deploying his exorcised material in the contemporary theater of everyday life where it could interact with other systems of mediation — those binding social externalities that are "really" the only sites available for the rebirth of critical and transformative contemplation.
  1. To win the energies of intoxication for the revolution-this is the project about which Surrealism circles in all its books and enterprises. Walter Benjamin, "Surrealism : The Last Snapshot of the European Intelligentsia," 1929
The author would like to thank Dan Hofmann and Terence van Eslander for their helpful thoughts in preparing this paper, and Georges Teyssot for initiating him into the problematics of representation.
1 john hejduk, Vladivostok (New York : Rizzoli International, 1989), 72.
2 Ibid., frontispiece (unnumbered).
3 john hejduk, "Evening in Liano," in Elizabeth Diller, Diane Lewis, and Kim Shkapich, eds., Education of an Architect (New York : Rizzoli International, 1988), 340-341.
4 quatremère de quincy, An Essay on the Nature, the End, and the Means of Imitation in the Fine Arts, J.C. Kent, trans. (London: 1837; reprint New York : Garland, 1979). See also quatremère de quincy, "Extracts from the Encyclopédie Méthodique. Architecture," in 9H no. 7 (1985).
5 Interview with Don Wall, in john hejduk, Mask of Medusa : Works 1947-1983 (New York : Rizzoli, 198.5), op. Cit., 35-36.
6 Ibid.
7 See anthony vidler, Claude-Nicolas Ledoux. Architecture and Social Reform at the End of the Ancien Régime (Cambridge : The MIT Press, 1990), 206-207. See also Robin Middleron's account of early expression theories in his introduction to Nicolas Le Camus de Mézières, The Genius of Architecture; or, the Analogy of that Art with our Sensations (Santa Monica : The Getty Center for the History of Art and the Humanities, 5992).
8 See anthony vidler, "The Idea of Type : The Transformation of the Academic ideal, 1750-1830," Oppositions 8 (Spring 1977) : 105-108. Also werner dechslin, “Architecture and Nature : On the Origin and Interchangeability of Architecture," Lotus International 31 (1981/2) : 4-19.
9 emil kaufmann, Von Ledoux bis Le Corbusier. Ursprung und Entwicklung der Autonomen Architektur (Vienna and Leipzig : Passer, 1933).
10 See stanford anderson, Peter Behrens and the New Architecture of Germany, 1900-1917 (Columbia University doctoral dissertation, 1968), 136-187.
See also winfried nerdinger, Theodor Fischer. Architekt und Städtebauer. 1862-1938 (Berlin : Ernst & Sohn, 1988), 96-102.
11 The link between Behrens and neo-Kantian aesthetics was first made by julius meier-graefe. See his "Peter Behrens: Düsseldorf," Dekorative Kunst viii, 10 (July 1905) : 381-390. For a fuller account of the theory and history of neo-Kantian formalist aesthetics see harry francis mallgrave and eleftherios ikonumou, "Introduction," in Robert Vischer et al., eds., Empathy, Form, and Space : Problems in German Aesthetics, 1873-1893 (Santa Monica : The Getty Center for the History of Art and the Humanities, 1994), 1-88.
12 immanuel kant, Critique of Judgement, Werner S. Pluhar, trans. (Berlin : 1790; Indianapolis : Hackett, 1987), Ak. 59, 225-230, Ak. 17, 80-81.
13 Ibid., Ak. 51, 191.
14 conrad fiedler, "Aphorismen, #106," in Schriften zur Kunst II (Munich : Wilhelm Fink, 1971), 75-77. [my translation]
15 alois riehl, Introduction to the Theory of Science and Metaphysics, Arthur Fairbanks, trans. (1887; London : Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner, 1894), 78.
16 heinrich wölfflin, Renaissance and Baroque, Kathrin Simon, trans. (Ithaca : Cornell University Press, 1961), 77.
17 Ibid., 80.
18 See meier-graefe, "Peter Behrens : Düsseldorf" Dekorative Kunst, op. cit.
19 adolf hildebrand, The Problem of Form in Painting and Sculpture, Max Meyer and Robert Morris Ogden, trans. (1893; New York : G.E. Steehert, 1945), 101 and 80-103.
20 Ibid., 34.
21 john hejduk, Mask of Medusa, op. Cit., 282-283.
22 colin rowe and robert slutzky, "Transparency : Literal and Phenomenal (1955-56)," Perspecta 8(1963) : 45-54. Reprinted in The Mathematics of the Ideal Villa, and Other Essays (Cambridge : The MIT Press, 1976), 159-183.
23 walter gropius, The New Architecture and the Bauhaus, P. Morton Shand, trans. (Cambridge : The MIT Press, 1935, 1965), 44 : "Instead of anchoring buildings ponderously into the ground with massive foundations, it puises them lightly, yet firmly, upon the face of the earth; and bodies itself forth, not in stylistic imitation or ornamental frippery, but in these simple and sharply modeled designs in which every part merges naturally into the comprehensive volume of the whole."
24 rosalind krauss, "Death of a Hermeneutic Phantom : Materialization of the Sign in the Work of Peter Eisenman," Architecture and Urbanism 01 (January 1980) : 189-2I7.
25 "Conversation between john hejduk and david shapiro : The Architect Who Drew Angels," Architecture and Urbanism 01, no. 244 (January 1991) : 62.
26 In their extensive and insightful introduction to the theory and history of empathy, harry francis mallgrave and eleftherios ikonumou identify empathy theory as a response to the "empty" formalism inaugurated by Kant and Herbart, attempting to reintroduce an aesthetics of content.
27 robert vischer, "Über das optische Formgefühl. Em Beitrag zur Ästhetik (1872)," in Drei Schriften zum ästhetischen Formproblem (Halle : Max Niemeyer, 1927), 1-44. Translated by Harry Francis Mallgrave and Eleftherios Ikonomou, "On the Optical Sense of Form," in Vischer et al., eds., Empathy, Form, and Space, op. cit., 89-124.
28 theodor lipps, Ästhetik. 1 : Psychologie der Schönen und der Kunst (1903). 2 : Die ästhetische Betrachtung und die bildende Kunst (1914) (Leipzig : Leopold Voss, 1920, 1923). Quotations are from theodor lipps, "Empathy and Aesthetic Pleasure," originally in Die Zukunst LIV (1905), Karl Aschenbrenner, trans., in Karl Aschenbrenner and Arnold Isenberg, eds., Aesthetic Theories (Englewood, NJ : Prentice-Hall, 1965), 403-412.
29 For more extensive accounts in English of the significance of Endell see tilmann buddensieg, "The Early Years of August Endell : Letters to Kurt Breysig from Munich," Art Journal 43, no. 1 (Spring 1983) : 41-49; kathryn bloom hiesinger, Art Nouveau in Munich : Masters of Jugendstil (Philadelphia : Philadelphia Museum of Art and Prestel, 1988), 56-61; lothar müller, "The Beauty of the Metropolis : Toward an Aesthetic Urbanism in Turn-of-the-Century Berlin," in Charles W. Haxthausen and Heidrun Suhr, eds., Berlin : Culture & Metropolis (Minneapolis : University of Minnesota Press, 1990), 37-57; and peg weiss, Kandinsky in Munich : The Formative Jugendestil Tears (Princeton : Princeton University Press, 1979), 34-40.
30 august endell, Um die Schönheit. Eine Paraphrase über die Münchener Kunstausstellung 1896 (Munich : Emil Franke, 1896).
31 august endell, "Formenschönheit und Dekorative Kunst," Dekorative Kunst 1, no. 2 (1898) : 75-77, and vol. 1, no. 9 119-125. Translated as "The Beauty of Form and Decorative Art," in Tim and Charlotte Benton with Dennis Sharp, eds., Form and Function (London : Crosby Lockwood Staples, 1975), 20-26.
32 august endell, Um die Schönheit, op. cit., 25.
33 See ernst gombrich, Art and illusion : A Study in the Psycbology of Pictorial Representation (1956) (Princeton : Princeton University Press, 1969), especially chapter 11 : "From Representation to Expression." Gombrich continued his critique in Meditations on a Hobby Horse, and Other Essays on the Theory of Art (Chicago : University of Chicago Press, 1963), especially the chapter "Expression and Communication."
34 john hejduk, "Architecture and the Pathognomic," in Architecture and Urbanism 01, no. 244 (January 1991): 124.
Siegfried Bilker, photographer, "Studio for a Musician," 1984.
    Collection of the Architect. Photo credit : Siegfried Bukest © Siegfried Büket