Mies Van Der Rohe - The Built Work

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Mies Van der Rohe

the built work


Mies Van der Rohe
the built work
Carsten Krohn

Birkhäuser
Basel
Layout, cover design and typography:
Annette Kern, Hamburg

Copy editing and project management:


Henriette Mueller-Stahl, Berlin

Translation from German into English:


Julian Reisenberger, Weimar

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­Library of Congress.

Bibliographic information published by the German National Lib­


rary. The German National Library lists this publication in the Deut-
sche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available
on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS 8 Introduction

16 Riehl House
Neubabelsberg, Germany, 1908

20 Perls House
Berlin-Zehlendorf, Germany, 1911–12

24 Kröller-Müller House, Façade Mock-up


Wassenaar, Netherlands, 1912–13

28 Werner House
Berlin-Zehlendorf, Germany, 1912–13

32 Warnholtz House
Berlin-Charlottenburg, Germany, 1914–15

33 Urbig House
Neubabelsberg, Germany, 1915–17

35 Tombstone for Laura Perls


Berlin-Weißensee, Germany, 1919

36 Kempner House
Berlin-Charlottenburg, Germany, 1921–23

40 Eichstaedt House
Berlin-Nikolassee, Germany, 1921–23

41 Feldmann House
Berlin-Grunewald, Germany, 1921–23

42 Ryder House
Wiesbaden, Germany, 1923–27

43 Gymnasium for Frau Butte’s Private School


Potsdam, Germany, 1924–25

44 Mosler House
Neubabelsberg, Germany, 1924–26

49 Urban House, Conversion


Berlin-Charlottenburg, Germany, 1924–26

50 Housing on the Afrikanische Straße


Berlin-Wedding, Germany, 1925–27

56 Wolf House
Guben, Poland, 1925–27

57 Monument to Karl Liebknecht and Rosa Luxemburg


Berlin-Lichtenberg, Germany, 1926

58 Weißenhofsiedlung Apartment Block


Stuttgart, Germany, 1926–27

62 Glass Room
Stuttgart, Germany, 1927

63 Samt und Seide Café (Velvet and Silk Café)


Berlin, Germany, 1927

64 Fuchs Gallery, Addition to the Perls House


Berlin-Zehlendorf, Germany, 1927–28

5
68 Lange and Esters Houses 128 Crown Hall
Krefeld, Germany, 1927–30 Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1950–56

76 Barcelona Pavilion 134 IIT Halls of Residence


International Exposition, Barcelona, Spain, 1928–29 Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1951–55

81 German Electrical Industry Pavilion 136 Association of American Railroads Mechanical Laboratory
World Exposition, Barcelona, Spain, 1929 Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1952–53

82 Tugendhat House 137 Commons Building


Brno, Czech Republic, 1928–30 Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1952–54

88 Henke House, Addition 138 Electrical Engineering and Physics Building


Essen, Germany, 1930 Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1954–56

89 Verseidag Factory 139 Association of American Railroads Engineering Laboratory


Krefeld, Germany, 1930–31, 1935 Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1955–57

94 Model House for the Berlin Building Exposition 140 Siegel Hall
Berlin, Germany, 1931 Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1955–58

95 Trinkhalle (Refreshment Stand) 142 Farnsworth House


Dessau, Germany, 1932 Plano, Illinois, USA, 1945–51

96 Lemke House 148 Promontory Apartments


Berlin-Hohenschönhausen, Germany, 1932–33 Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1946–49

102 Illinois Institute of Technology 152 Algonquin Apartments


Chicago, USA, 1941–58 Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1948–50

106 Minerals and Metals Research Building 153 Arts Club of Chicago
Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1941–43, 1956–58 Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1948–51

111 Engineering Research Building 154 860–880 Lake Shore Drive


Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1943–46 Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1948–51

112 Perlstein Hall 159 McCormick House


Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1944–47 Elmhurst, Illinois, USA, 1951–52

114 Alumni Memorial Hall 160 Greenwald House


Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1945–46 Weston, Connecticut, USA, 1951–56

118 Wishnick Hall 161 Commonwealth Promenade Apartments


Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1945–46 Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1953–57

120 Central Vault 162 Esplanade Apartments


Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1946 Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1953–57

121 Institute of Gas Technology Building 166 Seagram Building


Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1947–50 New York, USA, 1954–58

122 Association of American Railroads Research Laboratory 172 Lafayette Park


Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1948–50 Detroit, Michigan, USA, 1955–58

123 Boiler Plant 178 Colonnade and Pavilion Apartments


Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1948–50 Newark, New Jersey, USA, 1958–60

124 Chapel 182 Bacardi Office Building


Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1949–52 Mexico City, Mexico, 1958–61

126 Test Cell 184 One Charles Center


Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1950–52 Baltimore, Maryland, USA, 1958–62

127 Mechanics Research Building 186 Lafayette Towers


Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1950–52 Detroit, Michigan, USA, 1959–63

6
188 Federal Center
Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1959–74

192 Home Federal Savings and Loan Association


Des Moines, Iowa, USA, 1960–63

194 2400 Lakeview


Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1962–63

196 Highfield House


Baltimore, Maryland, USA, 1962–64

202 Social Service Administration


University of Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1962–64

204 Meredith Hall


Drake University, Des Moines, Iowa, USA, 1962–65

206 Science Center


Duquesne University, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA, 1962–68

208 Neue Nationalgalerie


Berlin-Tiergarten, Germany, 1962–68

216 Toronto-Dominion Centre


Toronto, Canada, 1963–69

220 Westmount Square


Montreal, Canada, 1964–68

224 Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial Library


Washington, D.C., USA, 1965–72

226 Museum of Fine Arts


Houston, Texas, USA, 1954–58, 1965–74

228 Nuns’ Island Apartments


Montreal, Canada, 1966–69

230 IBM Building


Chicago, USA, 1966–72

232 111 East Wacker Drive


Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1967–70

234 Service Station


Montreal, Canada, 1968

236 Subject Index



237 Illustration Credits

238 Chronological Bibliography



240 About the Author

7
Introduction Over the past few years, I’ve often been asked: “A book about
Mies – what more is there to say?” The idea for this project came
about during a vision to the Colonnade and Pavilion Apartments
in Newark, New Jersey, in October 2009. Several years earlier, an
artist in New York showed me a Super 8 film of these buildings
which I’d never heard of despite having read several books on
the architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (1886–1969) and having
studied for a while in New York. I was sceptical – perhaps Mies
had acted simply as a consultant. Years later, on the occasion of
a lecture I gave at Columbia University on urban utopias for Ber-
lin, I decided to pay the buildings a visit. I was surprised to find
the buildings were only 20 minutes by train from New York’s Penn
Station. The two monumental slabs can be seen rising into the
sky immediately behind Newark Broad Street Station in a district
that has a reputation as being unsafe. I was immediately smit-
ten by the view from the platform (see page 182, top): it was the
built embodiment of the vision that Ludwig Hilberseimer, an ur-
ban planner and close collaborator of Mies, had elaborated in
texts and images for Berlin. Only as I began to explore the com-
plex did I properly comprehend its urban dimensions, which are
defined by a third high-rise slab located some 600 metres further
away. It was a stormy day and the thin panes of glass in the still
original aluminium façade – designed in Mies’ office – vibrated
with shivering reflections of the clouds.
In the 50 years since they were built, the profile of the resi-
dents has shifted radically: originally built to house white mid-
dle-class workers, it is now almost exclusively occupied by Af-
rican American tenants. I asked the resident manager whether
they received many architecturally interested visitors and was told
that they had one visitor last year. The complex is evidently not
a popular destination for architecture tourists and – as I would
later find out – like many of Mies’ other built works, is relatively
unknown compared with his famous buildings such as the Bar-
celona Pavilion, the Seagram Building and in particular the un-
built projects such as the Skyscraper for the Friedrichstraße Rail-
way Station in Berlin.
In my numerous conversations with architects, theorists and
historians during my research for Das ungebaute Berlin, 1 Mies van
der Rohe emerged as the most important figure for the present
day. His work has been enormously influential for contemp­orary
architectural practice. He himself hoped that his work would be
judged by the degree to which others adopted the principles he
had developed. Rather than seeking a unique, individual form
of expression, he strove to find generally applicable principles:
“I think the influence my work has on other people is based on
its reasonableness. Everybody can use it without being a copy-
ist, because it is quite objective, and I think if I find something
objective I will use it. It does not matter who did it.”2 This ra-
tional approach differs markedly, for example, from that of Frank
Lloyd Wright, whose creations became ever more fantastic over
the course of his career. During the same period, Mies’ model
of a high-rise tower became an almost ubiquitous element of
many North American cities. They were seen as being timeless.
Today, in the context of the formal excesses of the last 15 years
and the drive to create ever more spectacular and eccentric ges-
tures, Mies’ focus on the elementary aspects of architecture has
once again gained relevance.
The more I saw and the more I read, the more I felt that the
image portrayed in the available literature was distorted. Re-
search on Mies has concentrated on his canonical works and
long been reluctant to consider all his buildings as equally sig-
nificant works in his oeuvre. In the first book published on Mies
in 1947, Philip Johnson writes: “All the buildings and projects
which Mies considers in any way important are illustrated in this
volume, with the exception of a few buildings which were not exe­
cuted according to his standards […].”3 In actual fact only about

8
half of his European buildings are shown, and even the two later
volumes Mies in Berlin and Mies in America, published in 2001,
show only about half his buildings with photos.

When asked which of his buildings he felt was most important,


Mies responded simply that “no single building stands out.” 4
Taking him at his word, this volume sets out to document his
complete oeuvre of built works for the first time.5 Each build-
ing is documented in the same way one after the other so that
the whole represents a genealogy of built form. Without see-
ing this developmental process, it is impossible to categorically
conclude whether Mies’ work is characterised by radical changes
or continuity. Over the past few years I have visited and docu-
mented all of Mies’ surviving built works, in the process becom-
ing a photographer.
The book documents every one of Mies’ 80 realised buildings
and building complexes arranged in chronological order. Only
the buildings for the Illinois Institute of Technology are grouped
together in a block as they were conceived as a coherent ensem-
ble. Thirty of the buildings – marked in bold type in the ­table
of contents – have been analysed and described in more detail.
The analysis of each building follows an identical three-stage
methodical structure.
To begin with, the building is documented as it was actually
built. The second section then documents any “Later alterations”
made to the building, while the third section examines the rele­
vance of the results of the analysis for our view of Mies’ work and
contribution today. This third step – “The building as seen from
the present” – examines the built work not in relation to its gen-
esis in a historical context but in terms of its design from an ar-
chitectural standpoint.
While existing books on Mies consider both his built and un-
built work together, separating the “significant” work from the
“insignificant”, the intention here is to communicate an impres-
sion of the spatial dimension of the buildings as they are experi­
enced by the user or visitor. The buildings are analysed with re-
spect to their relationship to place, how one moves through them,
the orchestration of light and visual axes as well as their material-
ity and tectonics. While Mies described “building [as] giving form
to reality,” 6 from a phenomenological viewpoint, we see these
buildings today not just as environments for living in but also as
buildings shaped by the reality of having been used. Almost all
of Mies’ buildings have been altered in some, not always imme-
diately perceptible, way or other. By looking back at his archi-
tecture from a contemporary perspective, we also consider them
in terms of the changes made, the different purposes they have
served as well as, in some cases, their destruction.
The documentation of the built works also enables us to ex-
amine the central themes that characterise Mies’ architecture.
The connection between indoors and outdoors, the articulation
of how the building meets the ground or the structural separa-
tion of column and wall are just some of the recurring themes in
his work. The continuity of the principles that Mies adhered to
connect his earlier and later work, even though they look quite
different on the outside. Mies strove to find simple but exem-
plary solutions for elementary transitions and junctions. For con­
temporary architects, it is interesting to study how Mies resolved
junctions between different materials and transitions from mono­­­­
lithic walls to glazed surfaces, the different forms that the corners
of buildings take in different constellations or how compact cores
have been placed in open-plan layouts. Mies created closed and
open “flowing” spaces, and was also not afraid to combine dif-
ferent spatial concepts.
The spatial arrangement of the buildings is shown using floor
plans and site plans, which instead of showing an idealised plan
from the design phase show the situation as built. All of the plans

Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, Reconstruction of the garden Hall, reconstruction of the original 9
Riehl House, Neubabelsberg 1908 façade, photomontage colour scheme
have been redrawn by myself, based on the working drawings. the respective ideological climate. For example, the attitude to-
Because many of Mies’ American buildings were built in collab­or­­ wards vast apartment blocks has changed fundamentally since
ation with other architecture offices, many of the relevant work- the 1960s when the Colonnade and Pavilion Apartments were
ing drawings are not in the Mies van der Rohe Archives of the built. Past research also sidelined certain projects. Mies’ per-
Museum of Modern Art in New York nor in the various published sonal path to radical modernism was, for example, by no means
volumes of The Mies van der Rohe Archive. The architecture of- as linear as it is often portrayed. The conventional houses that
fices responsible for the restoration of Mies’ buildings were most Mies built during the 1920s – some of them after publishing a
helpful, as were public records, building surveys and the archives series of avant-garde projects in the press – were deemed sim-
of the owners. The existing monographs on Mies almost exclu- ply bread-and-butter work.7 In her book Mies in America, Phyllis
sively show cleaned presentation drawings without legends or Lambert attempts to highlight the works where Mies himself was
dimensions, partly because the information contained within the more intensely involved in the design process. Mies, however,
working drawings becomes illegible when reduced in size and stated that: “I don’t make every building different.” 8
the plans themselves become harder to read. To reconstruct the
drawings, historical photographs as well as the buildings them- Mies’ own standpoint was influenced by the particular course of
selves proved to be an invaluable source. his career. Ludwig Mies – he added van der Rohe later – did not
The formal presentation of the newly drawn floor plans ech- study as an architect 9 but learned his trade from scratch work-
oes the reductive character of the plans that Mies published. Al- ing in practice: “I learned from my father. He was a stonemason.
though he highlighted the objective character of his principles, […] My father said, ‘Don’t read these dumb books. Work.’” 10 Al-
the resulting work and the drawings of them are often idiosyn- though he did develop a strong interest in philosophical writ-
cratic. The new floor plans published here contain only what is ings and published texts of his own, Mies would always empha-
absolutely necessary and aim to be as consistent as possible, sise the enormous influence of his background as a craftsman in
lending them an objective character. Furnishings, paving pat- Aachen on his personal development. The discipline he applied
terns, vegetation, the arcs of door openings, directions of stairs to developing the building construction can be seen in the ex-
and ramps as well as the labelling of the individual rooms have treme attention he gave to the details. This precision contrasts
all been omitted in favour of showing the building structure as markedly with the later works of Le Corbusier and Walter Gro-
clearly as possible. The built elements of external landscaping pius and is one of the reasons for his lasting influence to the
and gardens designed by Mies, some of which have been recon- present day. Even after more than half a century, few buildings
structed from aerial photographs, are also shown. around the world can claim to be detailed to the same exacting
The plans have been drawn consistently to a scale of 1:400 level of quality as the Seagram Building. Its clarity of expression
and oriented north. Ensembles of buildings are shown at a scale set a benchmark that many contemporary buildings still fail to
of 1:4000 and details at a scale of 1:10. Each building is shown measure up to.
with at least one floor plan or site plan. Because relevant plans Looking back, Mies described the development of his work
were not always available, not all buildings are illustrated with a as a persistent path of striving for clarity of construction. His
floor plan. The drawings comprise lines and surfaces all drawn obsessive search for order means that his work can be seen as
with the same line thickness. an ongoing process of optimisation. His high-rise towers are
The photographs take an analytical view of the respective in principle essentially identical skeleton frame constructions
buildings and concentrate predominantly on the built structures, that permit an open-plan floor plan, but he refined the detail-
leaving out later conversions, current uses or changed urban sur- ing with each new building. While the early apartment blocks
roundings wherever possible. The focus lies on the building sub- on Lake Shore Drive in Chicago exhibit numerous deficits with
stance and the detailing, as well as the placement of the build- respect to their building physics, the later towers resolved many
ing in the landscape. Both the earlier private houses as well as of these problems. Ironically, although the quality of the con-
the later high-rise towers were placed at prominent positions, struction of the later buildings is much better, in history books
usually adjoining a park or a lake. For the Lafayette Park Estate, they are regarded as being less architecturally significant than
for example, it took decades for the trees to grow to maturity. the earlier prototypes.
The photos show that the architecture has transcended time. When Mies said, “I always apply the same principles,”11 he
In cases where buildings have been altered to such a degree that was referring to rational aspects that can be taught and analysed.
the original conception is no longer visible – for examples the The building analyses in this book elaborate the principles that
garden façade of Mies’ very first work, the Riehl House – the orig- Mies sought to communicate as a teacher: “You can teach stu-
inal situation can be shown by means of a photographic montage. dents how to work; you can teach them technique – how to use
Another approach is to colourise black-and-white photographs reason; you can even give them a sense of proportions – of or-
to show the original colour scheme. Thomas Ruff, for example, der. You can teach general principles.” 12
created a series of photographs of Mies’ works that consciously In the 1920s, Mies presented five speculative projects – two
manipulates new and historic photographs. Digital techniques glass skyscrapers, an office building, and two country houses, one
have greatly simplified the retouching of photographs, and such made of ferro-concrete, the other of brick – that explored the
techniques are now common practice in architectural photogra- constructional possibilities of particular building materials. With
phy. The photographs in this book have not been retouched and the exception of the Skyscraper on the Friedrichstraße, none of
have a strictly documentary character. the projects were designed for a specific location. They were in-
Although most of Mies’ buildings are now listed, the build- stead programmatic, visionary concepts that explored a “prin-
ing substance is still in danger of being lost during renovation ciple” to the point that the images acquired an iconic charac-
works. Many typical Miesian elements, such as his minimalist bal- ter. In his floor plan for a skyscraper with polygonal curves that
ustrades, do not conform to current building regulations and are aimed to achieve a “rich play by the reflection of light”13 he did
thus often the target of modernisation measures. Other build- not show the supporting structure at all. Similarly, his floor plan
ings, such as the IIT Test Cell from 1950–52, simply stood in the for the brick country house is more abstract and schematic in
way of new building projects and were demolished. Built situa- character than a floor plan for a real building. The diagrammatic
tions are not the only aspects that change over time; so too does character of these designs is significant because it would later
the appreciation of architecture, which in turn is influenced by influence his built work.

10
Despite the vehemence with which Mies opposed individual- Schinkel and Hendrik Petrus Berlage whose “honest” construc-
istic solutions, the buildings he created were very often unique tions he greatly admired.
and he was commonly regarded as an artist. The rational prin- But Mies also designed furniture, some of it permanent fit-
ciples that he propagated were more a means to an end, as he tings for the respective building, or else chairs and armchairs,
believed strongly in the spiritual dimension of architecture. “The which he patented. He designed showroom apartments and ex-
problem of architecture has always been the same throughout hibitions, and also converted existing buildings, including an out-
time. Its authentic quality is reached through its proportions, and building in Potsdam 20 and a factory in Berlin-Steglitz for the Bau-
the proportions cost nothing. In fact, most of them are propor- haus School, which he headed at the time. Although this book
tions among things, not the things themselves,” he said, adding, does not document the entirety of Mies’ creative endeavours,
“Art is almost always a question of proportions.”14 it does bring a large part of his built oeuvre out of the shadows
Proportion can also be understood in broader terms as a re- and back into the limelight.
lationship, for example between people and their built or natural While Mies and his biographers portrayed his career as a lin-
environment. Wolf Tegethoff has written about the proportions in ear path of development, it is in reality highly complex. Although
Mies’ buildings: “A demonstrable, calculable system of propor- he never saw himself as an urban designer, he often designed
tions underlying the plans – whether of a rational or geometrical the spaces between groups of buildings. And while he strove to
nature – is […] in no single case apparent. […] Rather the suspi- achieve buildings of great simplicity, the constructions this en-
cion arises that mathematical or geometrical correspondences in tailed were often exceptionally complex. Similarly, he had a very
the ground plan were deliberately avoided, even when they ap- pragmatic attitude to the possibilities offered by new industrial
peared to be perfectly justified from a structural point of view.” 15 production methods, but was at the same time firmly rooted in
Tegethoff’s analysis, however, did not consider Mies’ early work. the traditions of classical architecture. He defined rules by which
The recently discovered building records of the Warnholtz House he worked and was highly disciplined about adhering to them,
include a ground floor plan that shows a salon measuring exactly and at the same time produced a remarkably varied repertoire of
5 by 7.5 metres, a vestibule of 3 by 4 metres, a veranda of 4 by 5 solutions. And while his work can be clearly divided into a Euro­
metres and a library that is precisely 4 by 3 metres. pean and an American phase, many aspects of his early work of-
These whole number proportions, which can also be seen ten paved the way for what came later. In this book, I have at-
in some of Mies’ other buildings, were also characteristic of the tempted to explicitly identify these references to emphasise the
floor plans of the architect and designer Peter Behrens, in whose coherence of his work: while his individual buildings may be sty-
atelier Mies worked from 1908 to 1912 with the exception of a listically different, they exhibit structural similarities. But what
brief pause in between. Although Mies had previously learned seems most contradictory today is the influence of Mies’ work
his trade while working for Bruno Paul, Behrens would become a on architectural production over the years, and the large number
central figure for his development: “We were more Behrens-like of soulless buildings that have resulted. While Mies expounded
than Behrens himself,”16 as he recalls. The clear proportions of many principles, they were for him never more than a means of
Behrens’ rooms can be seen, for example, in his design for the striving to reach a higher spiritual order.
Kröller-Müller House, which Mies also worked on; Mies was later
commissioned to draw up a design of his own based on the same 1 Carsten Krohn (ed.), Das ungebaute Berlin (Unbuilt Berlin), Berlin 2010.
2 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Graeme Shankland, in:
requirements. In the linear succession of representative spaces,
The Listener, 15 Oct. 1959, p. 620.
from the dining room to the salon and from the hall to the gen- 3 Philip Johnson, Mies van der Rohe, New York 1947, p. 7. The sentence
tleman’s study, the proportions of the rooms in Behrens’ design ends: “and some projects of the 1910–1914 period which were destroyed
alternate between 3:4 and a square. The proportions of the hall, in the bombing of Berlin.” Nothing, however, is known of projects from this
for example, can be seen by examining the position of the beams period that were destroyed. The Warnholtz House, built 1914–15, was only
demolished in 1960.
on the ceiling. Mies, however, was averse to designing perfectly
4 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Katharine Kuh, in:
square spaces, and he only found a legitimate case to do so for Saturday Review, 23 Jan. 1965, p. 22.
a freestanding pavilion with four identical façades that face in 5 Almost all his buildings are shown in: Yehuda E. Safran, Mies van der
the four directions of the compass. Rohe, Lisbon 2000, but without floor plans.
Mies declared a dislike for the word design: “It means 6 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, “Notes to Lectures”, 1950, in: Fritz Neu-
meyer, The Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the Building Art, Cam-
everything and nothing. Many believe they can do everything,
bridge, Mass., 1991, p. 328.
from designing a comb to planning a railway station –, the result 7 For further information on the reception of the houses built between
is that nothing is good.” He, on the other hand, was “only inter- 1921 and 1926, see: Andreas Marx and Paul Weber, “Konventionelle Kon-
ested in building.”17 This opinion set him apart from his teach- tinuität – Mies van der Rohes Baumaßnahmen an Haus Urban 1924–26. An-
lass zu einer Neuinterpretation seines konventionellen Werkes der 1920er
ers Bruno Paul and Peter Behrens, both of whom were trained
Jahre”, in: Johannes Cramer and Dorothée Sack (eds.), Mies van der Rohe:
artists who had taken up architecture auto-didactically. They ap-
Frühe Bauten – Probleme der Erhaltung, Probleme der Bewertung (Mies
proached building not from the construction but from the form van der Rohe – Early Built Works: Problems in their conservation and
and the idea of the Gesamtkunstwerk. Mies recalls that, “Behrens ­a ssessment), Petersberg 2004, pp. 163–178.
had a great sense of the great form. That was his main interest; 8 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Ulrich Conrads in 1964,
produced on a phonograph record: “Mies in Berlin”, Bauwelt.
and that I certainly understood and learned from him.” How-
9 He studied from June 1907 to May 1908 at the education department of
ever, he was also critical: “It then became clear to me that it was the Berlin Museum of Applied Arts (Kunstgewerbemuseum) under Bruno
not the task of architecture to invent form. I tried to understand Paul. See also Thomas Steigenberger, “Mies van der Rohe – ein Schüler
what that task was. I asked Peter Behrens, but he could not give Bruno Pauls?” in: Johannes Cramer and Dorothée Sack (eds.), Mies van der
me an answer. He did not ask that question.” 18 This discrepancy Rohe: Frühe Bauten – Probleme der Erhaltung, Probleme der Bewertung
(Mies van der Rohe – Early Built Works: Problems in their conservation and
was also the source of an altercation with a colleague in Bruno
assessment), Petersberg 2004, pp. 151–162.
Paul’s office. “Later, we had a falling out, because I said that 10 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in: John Peter, The Oral History of Modern
Bruno Paul was more of an interior designer than an architect. Architecture. Interviews with the Greatest Architects of the Twentieth
Our argument grew increasingly vocal. He mounted a full defence Century, New York 1994, p. 156, 158.
of Bruno Paul and I did precisely the opposite. I told him that 11 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Katharine Kuh, in:
­Saturday Review, 23 Jan. 1965, p. 61.
what he did had nothing to do with architecture.”19 When asked
12 Ibid., p. 23.
to name architects that inspired him, Mies cited Karl Friedrich

introduction 13
13 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, in: Frühlicht, vol. 4, 1922, p. 124.
14 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Bayerischer Rundfunk
(Bavarian Broadcasting), in: Der Architekt, 1966, p. 324.
15 Wolf Tegethoff, Mies van der Rohe – The Villas and Country Houses,
New York 1985, pp. 77–78.
16 Stanford Anderson, “Considering Peter Behrens: Interviews with Ludwig
Mies van der Rohe (Chicago, 1961) and Walter Gropius (Cambridge, Mass.,
1964)”, in: Engramma, no. 100, Sep./Oct. 2012. www.engramma.it.
17 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Christian Norberg-­
Schulz, in: Éditions de l’Architecture d’Aujourd’hui, L’œuvre de Mies van
der Rohe, Paris 1958, p. 100.
18 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in: Moisés Puentes (ed.), Conversations with
Mies van der Rohe, New York 2008, ­p. 54.
19 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Dirk Lohan, transcribed
manuscript, Mies van der Rohe Archive, Museum of Modern Art, New York
(translated into English by JR).
20 Cf. Andreas Marx and Paul Weber, “Zur Neudatierung von Mies van der
Rohes Landhaus in Eisenbeton”, in: Architectura, vol. 2, 2008, p. 160.

14 introduction
Views from the street 17
Later alterations to the building 1 From a conversation with Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in the documentary
The house was renovated in 2001.4 The garden wall, balcony, flat film “Mies van der Rohe” by Georgia van der Rohe, 1986.
2 Hermann Muthesius, Das Englische Haus, Berlin 1904, vol. 3 (English-lan-
tile roofing and chimney are all reconstructions. The enclosure of
guage edition: Hermann Muthesius, The English House. Volume III: The
the loggia with perimeter glazing, which had been undertaken at Interior, London 2007).
an earlier date, was retained and the original condition was not 3 Ibid., pp. 170–173.
reinstated. The original enclosed staircase and dumb waiter was 4 The house was renovated by the architects Heiko Folkerts together with
conservation consulting from Jörg Limberg. See the contribution by Fol-
replaced with an open staircase and the entrance door was chan-
kerts and Limberg in: Johannes Cramer and Dorothée Sack (eds.), Mies
ged. Most of the original fittings, with the exception of a few ele- van der Rohe: Frühe Bauten – Probleme der Erhaltung – Probleme der
ments in the attic, have also been lost. As the original planning Bewertung, Petersberg 2004, pp. 27–55.
records and working drawings no longer exist and the published 5 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Ulrich Conrads in 1964,
plans are idealised plans that differ from the building survey, it is produced on a phonograph record, Mies in Berlin, Bauwelt, Berlin 1966.
6 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, Manuscript of a “radio broadcast” on 17 Aug.
not possible to conclusively determine the original plans of the
1931, in: Fritz Neumeyer, The Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the
lower floor and attic. Building Art, Cambridge, Mass. 1991, p. 311.
7 Gottfried Semper, Die vier Elemente der Baukunst, Braunschweig 1851,
The building as seen from the present p. 57 (The Four Elements of Architecture, Cambridge, Mass. 2011).
This “general space” that Mies created right at the beginning of his
career marks the first use of what Mies would later term “universal
space”: an architecture independent of a specific function. As he
explained, “I have always liked large rooms in which I can do as I
please […]. I said: ‘Make your spaces big enough, man, so that you
can walk around in them freely, and not just in one predetermined
direction!’ […] We don’t know at all whether people will do with
them what we expect them to. Functions are not so clear or so
constant; they change faster than the building.”5
Mies had evidently wished to achieve precisely this spatial con-
stellation and precisely these proportions. The ratio of the width to
length of the hall is 2:3, as is the ratio of the height to width. The
alcoves adjoining the hall have the same proportions, as does the
entrance vestibule and the windows and opening onto the loggia.
From his later buildings, we know that Mies never left the propor-
tions to chance, declaring that “the artistic expresses itself in the
proportions”.6 His floor plan, however, could only be achieved
with considerable constructional effort, as the spatial disposition
conflicted with the structure of the building. The dimensions and
orientation of the hall could only be achieved without the use of
columns by employing a concealed supporting construction. Hid-
den columns bear a hidden I-beam on which the transverse ga-
ble wall of the upper storey rests. This expensive supplementary
construction shows how far Mies was from his later ideal of struc-
tural clarity. But it also shows how uncompromisingly he wished
to realise this particular plan within the confines of this unassum-
ing building type.
The Riehl House can also be analysed according to Gottfried
Semper’s theory of the four elements of architecture. In the nine-
teenth century, Semper characterised architecture according to
four primordial elements – hearth, roof, enclosure and mound –
each of which he related to a specific material. In the Riehl House,
the hearth is related to the materials metal and ceramics out of
which the “fireplace” is made. Although this is actually just a ra-
diator screen, its altar-like treatment and placement lend it the
status of a fireplace. With regard to the enclosure, Semper noted
that “the word Wand [wall] has the same root as Gewand [gar-
ment]. They describe the textile or fabric of the walls that clothe
the space.”7 Even when walls were later made of masonry, pa-
nelled with wood or clad with sheets of marble, Semper argued
that they still represented a non-structural enclosure that derived
from the textile fabric of old. Although only visible in the tectonic
articulation, and only hinted at discreetly, the principle of the sep­­
aration of structure from non-structural infill is visible in the fine
profiling of the pilasters of the façade. On the garden frontage,
these infill panels are actually omitted in a manner akin to a half-
timbered structure. Finally, this elemental approach to the building
design is most apparent in its relationship to the topography: the
building is firmly anchored with the site by a substantial mound.

18
Bird‘s eye view riehl House 19
Garden façade 21
Loggia from the garden
22 Loggia
notable collection of erotic art, was seized by the SS. After years that provide an indication of the original condition of the building. For
of dereliction, the house was converted under the direction of Al- further information on the renovation, see: Dietrich von Beulwitz, “The
Perls House by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe” in: Architectural Design,
bert Speer into a secret facility for the production of instruments
vol. 11/12, 1983.
and gauges for retaliatory weapons (V-rockets). After the war, the 3 Ibid, p. 63.
company continued to flourish producing technical medical equip- 4 Cf. Philip Johnson 1947, p. 14; Blake 1960, p. 160; Spaeth 1985, p. 22.
ment from the house until the end of the 1970s. 5 Fritz Neumeyer, “Space for Reflection: Block versus Pavilion”, in: Franz
Schulze (ed.), Mies van der Rohe – Critical Essays, New York 1989, pp.
The windows and doors were changed and the loggia was
164–165.
closed off. Extensions were built, encasing the original building like
a second skin. A single photograph remains of the house directly
after its completion showing an idealised view from a perspective
that matched Mies’ own presentation drawings and echoed those
of Schinkel. Dietrich von Beulwitz, who was entrusted with the ren­
ovation, relied heavily on recollections of the building by Philip
Johnson, who had studied the building intensively before the al-
terations were undertaken and was able to describe the original
tones of colour used.2 Von Beulwitz described the difficulties he
had because “modern plaster and paint, all industrial products,
are quite different from the old materials.” The building was origi-
nally rendered with a “plaster of slaked lime” and “a lime paint put
on ‘al fresco’ and combining with the plaster, rubbing off slightly
over the course of time and giving a particularly lively effect.”3

The building as seen from the present


The entire design hinges around the position of the dining ta-
ble in the geometric centre of the house. It is at this central point
that the two primary axes that connect the house and garden in-
tersect at right angles to one another, and where other, diagonal
sight lines cross before continuing on into the greenery outside.
This star-shaped constellation of axes affords a panoramic view
of the natural surroundings, uniting indoor and outdoor space in
a single spatial concept. The compact form of the house exhibits
a sparing sobriety and geometric rigour that is also to be found
in the proportion of the rooms. The central room around the din­
ing table has the proportions 2:3, extending to become almost a
square when the windows to the loggia are opened. This tension
between the building’s geometric precision and expansive sense
of space informs the character of the building.
After a long period in which the house was accorded little at-
tention by scholars of Mies, with the exception of repeated refer­
ences to the influence of Schinkel,4 it was eventually recognised
as containing early indications of characteristics that were to de-
velop in Mies’ later work. For Fritz Neumeyer, one particular detail
reveals one of Mies’ central themes: the expression of a clear and
rational construction. Slots, one centimetre thick, are cut into the
side walls of the loggia, articulating the corners visually as load-
bearing columns. “This small detail indicates the autonomy of the
tectonic skeleton,”5 argued Neumeyer, introducing a further inter-
pretation of the building: the loggia could be read as a pergola
that has been inserted into the building.
The loggia has a pivotal function. As a transitional space, it links
indoors with outdoors. It is part of the house when seen as an ex-
tension of the interior, and part of the garden when regarded as a
continuation of the pergola that encompasses the outdoor space.
The transition between indoors and outdoors is articulated
both through the precise placement of the openings as well as the
continuous step from the music room to the garden. Although very
discreet, this detail, in combination with the other steps leading
down to the sunken court with the sculpture, lends the passage
of movement a noticeable sense of descent. This in turn creates
the impression that the house rests on a raised podium. In his la-
ter works, Mies also positioned sculptures outdoors in such a way
that they relate to the interior, heightening its impression of space.

1 As recalled by Hugo Perls in: Warum ist Kamilla schön? Von Kunst, Künst-
lern und Kunsthandel, Munich 1962, p. 16.
2 Von Beulwitz assembled a collection of all the documents he could find

perls Ho u se 23
“that is not.” However, Berlage’s project also never came to fru-
ition. Mies even went to Paris to solicit a critique of his own de-
sign from the art critic Julius Meier-Graefe, who wrote in praise
of the “handsome asymmetrical arrangement” of the complex,
declaring: “Nothing is piecemeal. All the parts hang together
and are developed logically.” 8

Later alterations to the building


The 1:1 model of the house was set up on a system of rails so that
it could be moved about. “Everything inside – the partitions and
the ceilings – could move up and down,”9 recalled Mies, noting in
retrospect that it could be dangerous to erect a house as a model.

The building as seen from the present


In his use of the term “dangerous”, Mies was probably referring
to the fact that there is more to building than erecting a life-size
impression of its form. Even when one can experience its spatial
characteristics, it lacks all materiality and the specifics of its cons-
truction, as well as a connection with the place. Rem Koolhaas on
the other hand has written in S,M,L,XL: “I suddenly saw him inside
the colossal volume, a cubic tent vastly lighter and more sugges-
tive than the sombre and classical architecture it attempted to em-
body. I guessed – almost with envy – that this strange ‘enactment’
of a future house had drastically changed him: were its whiteness
and weightlessness an overwhelming revelation of everything he
did not yet believe in? An epiphany of anti-matter? Was this can-
vas cathedral an acute flash-forward to another architecture?”10
The development of Mies’ work would nevertheless display an
evolutionary continuity for a long time to come. Leaving aside the
rigorous classical arrangement of the façades, the way in which
the secondary volumes interlock “organically” with the primary
block-like building volume already hints at his later work. Mies
would later say of this project: “Certainly I was influenced by
Schinkel, but the plan is not in any way Schinkel’s.”11
A water basin was to be placed in front of the expansive com-
plex in which the architecture would be reflected, a situation com-
parable to that seen in the Barcelona Pavilion, for here too a sec­
ond smaller pool was planned within a more intimate en­closed
courtyard to reflect a sculptural figure.
A smaller model was also constructed of Mies’ project but in
a modified form. In this model, the intimate courtyard with the
smaller pool and a sculpture on a round plinth is open on the
other side. The central space, which corresponds to the lady’s
room in Behrens’ project, no longer has three large French win-
dows opening onto the garden but is now puzzlingly entirely en-
closed and is marked as a gallery for engravings.12

1 Paul Westheim, “Mies van der Rohe – Entwicklung eines Architekten”, in:
Das Kunstblatt, vol. 2, 1927, p. 56.
2 Sketch of the Ground floor plan from around 1931. Published in: Barry
Bergdoll and Terence Riley (eds.), Mies in Berlin. Ludwig Mies van der Rohe.
Die Berliner Jahre 1907–1938, Munich 2001, p. 166.
3 Cf. Sergio Polano, “Rose-shaped, Like an Open Hand. Helene Kröller-
Müller’s House”, in: Rassegna, Dec. 1993, p. 23.
4 Fritz Hoeber, Peter Behrens, Munich 1913, p. 201.
5 Ibid., pp. 201–202.
6 Cf. Mies’ legend “House of flowers for the lady”.
7 Cf. note 3.
8 The letter from Julius Meier-Graefe can be found in the MoMA Archives.
Cited in: Franz Schulze and Edward Windhorst, Mies van der Rohe – A
Critical Biography, Chicago 2012, pp. 41–42.
9 Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Henry Thomas Cadbury-Brown in:
Architectural Association Journal, July/Aug. 1959, p. 29.
10 Rem Koolhaas, S,M,L,XL, Rotterdam 1995, p. 63.
11 Cf. note 9, p. 28.
12 Cf. note 2.

K rö ller-M üller Ho u se , Fa ça de M o ck - up 27
Garden
Stairs in the garden 29
The building as seen from the present
Although the reconstruction replicates just the gesture of an out-
stretched arm enclosing the garden, and does not follow Mies’
original concept, it still allows us to experience the unity of build­
ing and garden in Mies’ work more powerfully than any other of
his early works, and one can still sense the intimacy of the atmos-
phere. While the topography of the garden is “constructed” as
a series of plateaus connected by steps, the building has in turn
become overgrown.
Before Mies’ next building – the Warnholtz House – was dis-
covered by historians, the Werner House was held to be an isola-
ted exception in his oeuvre of works, so much so that his author-
ship was called into question.3 But it is less the formal and stylistic
language that makes this building notable than the structural con-
cept of the ensemble. Mies’ design builds on an established build­
ing type, and he would later declare the idea of the simple and
self-evident to be an ideal, but what makes this building relevant
is its definition of space through the volume of the building. The
right-angular form creates a protected courtyard situation, a prin-
ciple that Mies also employed for the design of his own house, al­
though this was never built. In his later addition to the Perls House
he would likewise create an L-shaped situation, demonstrating that
the pattern of living does not have to follow the arrangement of
the house but vice versa. But Mies had not dispensed with the
simplicity and rigour of his clearly proportioned rectangular floor
plans. The different floor plans of the Perls House and the Werner
House represent two conceptual poles between which he would
experiment in his future work. In retrospect, his entire European
oeuvre can be seen as an attempt to bring contrasting concep-
tions into harmonious balance. Of this period he would later say,
“After my time in Holland, an inner battle ensued in which I tried
to free myself from the influence of Schinkelesque classicism.”4
The origins of the L-shaped arrangement go back to the Kröl-
ler-Müller project. In Behrens’ earlier design for the building, which
Mies had worked on, the lady’s quarters were connected to an in-
timate garden, a concept that Mies also carried over for his own
design for that house and finally put into practice in a similar form
here in the Werner House.

1 Paul Mebes, Um 1800, Munich 1908. In a conversation with Dirk


Lohan, Mies cites Alfred Messel’s Villa Oppenheim in Berlin as one of
his inspirations. Documented in a manuscript in the Mies Archives of the
MoMA, New York.
2 For further information on the design of the garden, see Christiane
Kruse, Garten, Natur und Landschaftsprospekt – Zur ästhetischen
Inszenierung des Außenraums in den Landhausanlagen Mies van der Rohes,
Dissertation, Freie Universität Berlin 1994.
3 The plans of the house are signed only by Ferdinand Goebbels, who was
Mies’ partner and was also involved in executing the Perls House. Since
then a further plan signed by Mies has been discovered. See also Christiane
Kruse, “Haus Werner – Ein ungeliebtes Frühwerk Mies van der Rohes”, in:
Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte, 1993, pp. 554–563.
4 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Ulrich Conrads in 1964,
produced on a phonograph record, “Mies in Berlin”, Bauwelt, Berlin 1966.

Pergola
Stairs to entrance
30 Radiator screen
Garden façade Werner Ho u se 31
Tombstone for Laura Perls The tombstone stands in the Jewish cemetery in Berlin-Weißen-
Berlin-Weißensee, Germany, 1919 see.1 Mies designed it for Laura Perls, the mother of Mies’ second
client. The meticulously fitted blocks of stone are made of shell
­limestone – not any ordinary limestone, but valuable core rock with
an especially dense structure of the type used in the past for sculp-
tures. The surface structure of the stone at the base of the tomb
shows that it has been cut against the grain while the stone above
has been cut with the grain. The precious material is placed as a
block in space, its plain but monumental form expressed simply
through the clarity with which the blocks are precisely assembled.
The proportion of its height to length is exactly 3:4.

1 Berlin Heritage Authority and Berlin Technical University (eds.), 115,628


Berliners – The Weißensee Jewish Cemetery – Documentation of the
Comprehensive Survey of the Burial Sites, Berlin 2013, p. 54.

Tombstone 35
38 Elevation
The building as seen from the present
In the period between designing the Kempner House and the Ur-
big House that preceded it, Mies’ life and work was affected by his-
torical events that not only brought about major political turbulen-
ces but also redirected the development of architecture as a whole.
Mies was conscripted to serve in the First World War, and on his
return he, like many of his contemporaries, drew up visionary de-
signs that heralded a transformation in architecture and in society.
As with almost all of Mies’ early buildings, the Kempner House
was not published in the press at the time. The appearance of the
house remained unknown until the mid-1980s when the building
records of the house were discovered. A design drawing was pu-
blished in Philip Johnson’s monograph of Mies‘ work, but the ac-
tual building differed in its form. In his foreword Johnson explains
that only those buildings that were not built according to Mies’
guidelines were not published. The five avant-garde projects in
the book – the two glass skyscrapers, an office building, a con-
crete country house and a brick country house – have therefore
overshadowed the Kempner House to the present day, although
it is from the same period.
Attempts to explain this discrepancy between the unbuilt
“modern” works and the “conventional” built projects as bread-
and-butter work, or the assumption that Mies succumbed to the
conservative tastes of his clients are not borne out by Mies’ own
luxurious lifestyle and his famously uncompromising standpoint in
his dealings with clients.4 Years later, Mies also showed the house
to the Tugendhat family before obtaining the commission.
Compared with the Feldmann House built at the same time,
the ground floor plan of the Kempner House is positively labyrin-
thine. In retrospect, one can see that Mies’ work at this time in the
early 1920s fluctuated between two divergent concepts of space.
While the classical solution of the Feldmann House employs a
central axis of symmetry and is extremely clearly organised, this
house reflects the complex spatial relationships that prevail in sta-
tely house with live-in servants. Mies would later call this complex
way of organising space an “organic principle of order”,5 but for a
long time he was undecided and kept switching between a “clas-
sical” and an “organic” arrangement of rooms.

1 See the building records for Sophienstraße 5–7 in the Berlin State Arch­ives:
B Rep. 207 no. 1608.
2 Immediately on entering the house, one finds a coatroom and toilet to
the left while the private rooms of the house’s owner – the Privy Councillor
Maximilian Kempner – are on the right. The path leads straight ahead from
the entrance through a central hall and stairway to the dining room and
veranda beyond. Adjoining the dining room is the living room, which opens
on to the terrace, as well as a serving area that can be reached directly
from the kitchen. A second service wing with its own living quarters and
kitchen for the servants is reached via a separate entrance. A stair leads up
to the sleeping quarters. The bedrooms of the owner and his wife Franziska
Kempner and their son as well as the “lady’s living quarters” are arranged
on the first floor.
3 The floor plan is published in: Fritz Neumeyer, The Artless Word – Mies
van der Rohe on the Building Art, Cambridge, Mass. 1991, p. 85. The most
comprehensive study of this house can be found in: Andreas Marx and Paul
Weber, “Konventioneller Kontext der Moderne – Mies van der Rohes Haus
Kempner 1921–23 – Ausgangspunkt einer Neubewertung des Hochhauses
Friedrichstraße”, in: Berlin in Geschichte und Gegenwart – Jahrbuch des
Landesarchivs Berlin, Berlin 2003, pp. 65–107. The floor plans published
here also do not correspond to what was actually built.
4 Cf. Andreas Marx and Paul Weber, “Konventionelle Kontinuität – Mies
van der Rohes Baumaßnahmen an Haus Urban 1924–26. Anlass zu einer­
Neu­interpretation seines konventionellen Werkes der 1920er Jahre”, in:
Johannes Cramer and Dorothée Sack (eds.), Mies van der Rohe: Frühe
Bauten – Probleme der Erhaltung, Probleme der Bewertung, Petersberg
2004, pp. 163–178.
5 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe “Inaugural address”, in: Fritz Neumeyer, The
Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the Building Art, Cambridge, Mass.
1991, p. 317.

kempner house 39
Eichstaedt House A series of different spaces adjoin the almost square-plan house
Berlin-Nikolassee, Germany, 1921–23 and serve as a transition between indoors and outdoors, or make
it possible to experience the world outdoors from within: a round
bay separated from the interior by a step, a banked terrace with
adjacent veranda and a projecting entrance vestibule. In the pre-
liminary design, this projection was not present but its later addi-
tion made it possible to make the entrance area more spacious.
This entrance leads via a hallway to the stairs, the living room and
the dining room, separated off by a curtain, while the pathway
through the building always leads towards the light. Two glazed
doors and a strip of windows illuminate the dining room. The kit-
chen and pantry lie in the northwest part of the house. Although
the site does not directly adjoin the lake, 150 metres away, it opens
onto woodland to the south. The house has experienced succes-
sive alterations: an extension was added to the west, the veranda
closed off and the front porch extended.1

1 The planning application and later alterations are documented in the


building records for “Dreilindenstraße 30” held at Bau- und Wohnungs­
aufsichtsamt Zehlendorf (Building Control and Housing Department).

First floor plan


40 Ground floor plan View from the garden
Gymnasium for Frau Butte’s Private School The gymnasium is an addition to an existing school building. The
Potsdam, Germany, 1924–25 building is entered via a projecting porch that houses a couple
of steps leading down into the gymnasium.1 The floor plan has
a clear structure. The room is illuminated by a series of tall win-
dows. Cornices lend the exterior an austere and classical impres-
sion. Although reminiscent of historical architecture, the construc-
tion is entirely modern. As with the industrial buildings by Peter
Behrens, a monumental façade design encloses an open interior
cov­ered by a delicate steel roof construction.
The building has undergone significant alterations. Two storeys
were added and a new level introduced within the interior. The cor-
nices of the façade were removed and replaced with a scraped ren-
der. Only the windows have been reconstructed as they once were.

1 The ground floor plan of the building as originally built (dated 28 Aug.
1925) is available from the Conservation Department in Potsdam building
record “SvPAD, Acta specialia Helene-Lange-Straße 14”.

Elevation
Floor plan
Detail of the façade 43
The prominent location overlooking a lake determines both the
placement of the house on the site as well as the direction of move-
ment through the building. Visitors are led by the shortest path
from the entrance hall through the house to the covered terrace
overlooking the Griebnitzsee lake. The building sits on a ledge
above a slope that descends steeply to the lake affording a view
over the wooded landscape as if from a tower. This dramatic effect
is heightened by raising the level of the ground floor: al­though the
house does not rest on a plinth, the monumental open stair that
descends into the garden helps to create this impression.
The service spaces and served spaces are clearly separated
from one another and divide the ground floor into two parallel zo-
nes. The linear arrangement of entrance hall, staircases, wardrobe,
toilets, pantry and dumb waiter and lift creates a ribbon of service
spaces. The representative rooms – the music room, the centrally
placed library and the study – are also arranged as a linear succes-
sion of spaces, a grand enfilade whose axis extends out into the
garden. The adjoining dining room is given the same proportions
as its counterparts in the earlier Riehl and Perls Houses. Measur­
ing exactly 6 by 9 metres, it again corresponds to a ratio of 2:3,
but here opens directly onto the garden outside.1 From the cen-
tre of the room, one has views of the surroundings in all directions
creating an impression of spaciousness.
While the building does not directly adjoin the lake, the view
from the terrace looks over the water. The view is carefully framed
so that the water is seen directly behind the travertine ledge of
the terrace, with the garden obscured from view. The projecting
travertine block of the terrace therefore not only acts as a podium
on which the architecture rests but also creates the impression of
residing above the lake.
Although this “country house”2 built for the banker Georg Mos-
ler in the villa colony in Neubabelsberg near Potsdam has not been
viewed as a high point in Mies’ oeuvre of works, it is still notable,
if not for its stylistic aspects, then for the quality of its materials
and execution. The heavy entrance door, which visitors reach via
a set of travertine steps, is faced with a sheet of solid oiled oak.
The floor of the entrance hall is paved with Carrara marble, and
the grander of the two inner staircases is made of solid walnut.
The doors are veneered with Caucasian walnut, along with some
of the wall panelling. The window shutters are operated via a com-
plex mechanism in which the shutters travel in grooves embedded
in the wall. For the door frames, similarly complex custom fittings
were developed. Rather than interconnecting in the typical fashion
with a single shaft, the two door handles on either side of the door
are staggered, connecting with the door at two different points.
The centrally placed dressing room on the upper floor is con-
ceived as a refined piece of furniture. The fitted cupboards are
clad with Mahogany Pommelé veneer and form the walls, and
this haptic quality of the materials contributes to its specific char­
acter. While the room itself is like a walk-in wardrobe, seen from
outside the high quality of its wood facing makes it appear like
a solid block of exquisite material placed in the house’s interior.
Typologically, the house represents a continuation of the Urbig
and Feldmann Houses, this time with facing brickwork. While al-
most all of Mies’ buildings until then were masonry constructions,
here brick is also used as the facing material, as it was previously
for the Kempner House. Compared with the Kempner House,
however, this building is both clearer and more rigorous in its ar-
rangement. Special bricks were used in combination with a spe­­­
cific brick bond. Mies imported hand-moulded bricks from Holland
which were of a smaller, non-standard size and were laid in Dutch
bond,3 the same pattern as used in the Kempner House. The prin-
ciple of using raised pointing that protrudes beyond the face of
the brickwork also came from Holland. The outer masonry leaf was
made with facing bricks and, like the coffered ceiling in the study,
served a decorative and therefore non-loadbearing function. The

Street façade
View from the garden
View over the lake 45
Detail of the stairs
46 Dressing room
Ceiling detail
Entrance hall Mosler house 47
precise detailing of these cladding layers can be seen in the in- with which Mies resolved the problem that the distance between
dented brickwork corner detail of the shafts of the loggia columns the door handle and the frame is typically different on either side
and the cross-jointed mirrored arrangement of the Caucasian wal- of the door. Around the same time, Ludwig Wittgenstein develo-
nut veneer in the square ceiling coffers. ped his famous bent door handle to resolve precisely this design
problem. Mies invested great effort in realising a complex techni-
Later alterations to the building cal solution that remained entirely hidden from view.
Georg Mosler, a Jewish banker, emigrated with his family at the
end of the 1930s after the Nazis expropriated his house and pos- 1 The dimensions of exactly 6 by 9 metres are given in the planning
application documents submitted on 23 July 1924. See the planning
sessions. The German Red Cross then used the house as an ad-
documents held at the Conservation Department of the Potsdam Building
ministrative building. After the war, the building lay in the restric- Authority.
ted zone of the border strip between the two German states, and 2 This is the term used to describe the house in the working drawings.
was used by the GDR as a children’s clinic and home for disabled 3 In this masonry bond, the header and stretcher alternate. It is also
children. The walls, wooden panelling and open fireplace were know as Gothic or Polish bond, and in Holland it is called Flemish bond.
Mies, however, termed this Dutch bond, writing: “The plinth of the fence
lost, the bathrooms were converted and PVC flooring was applied
is executed using Dutch facing bricks laid in Dutch bond pattern to
over the parquet. In 2000, a building developer used the house correspond with the house.” (see the planning documents).
as its headquarters for the duration of just a few months and re- 4 The alterations are documented in detail in: Johannes Cramer and
moved many of the remaining original finishes. Tiling, linoleum Dorothée Sack (eds.), Mies van der Rohe: Frühe Bauten – Probleme der
and parquet flooring was removed as well as the historical lift,4 Erhaltung, Probleme der Bewertung, Petersberg 2004, pp. 79–86.
5 Werner Blaser, Mies van der Rohe, Zurich 1991, p. 18.
and doors, door frames and skirting boards were shortened to ac-
6 Mies van der Rohe, lecture manuscript from 19 June 1924, in: Fritz
commodate new carpeting. Thereafter the building remained un- Neumeyer, The Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the Building Art,
used for severa­l years. The house has since been renovated com- Cambridge, Mass., 1991, p. 250.
prehensively and a new entrance added to the side of the house. 7 Cf. Franz Schulze, Mies van der Rohe – A Critical Biography, Chicago,
London 1985, p. 121.
The building now serves once again as a home.
8 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, “Building Art and the Will of the Epoch!”
(1924), in: Fritz Neumeyer: The Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the
The building as seen from the present Building Art, Cambridge, Mass., 1991, p. 246.
“There are no corridors”5 remarked Werner Blaser in a descrip-
tion of the key characteristics of Mies’ unrealised design for a Brick
Country House from 1924. Mies had published two drawings of this
project to demonstrate an architectonic principle: “The wall loses
its enclosing character and serves only to articulate the house or-
ganism”.6 At the time Mies wrote this, he was working on the de-
sign of the Mosler House. Although the concept here is different,
the layout of the rooms is such that there are indeed no corridors.
A theme of the unbuilt project for a Brick Country House is the
connection between the interior and exterior. Although the Mos-
ler House is not as dynamic in its layout and the walls have an en-
closing character, the quality of the living areas is strongly infor-
med by the connection between the interior and exterior. The
rooms are linked with the exterior via four large, differently orien-
ted and partially covered terraces that offer different kinds of out-
door ­experiences depending on the time of day or the prevail­ing
weather conditions.
The fact that Mies later placed greater emphasis on his “vision­
ary” but unbuilt designs for the Brick and Concrete Country Hou-
ses in the publication of his oeuvre than on his built work from
the same period contributed to the Mosler House being regarded
as “anachronistic”.7 In 1924, as Mies began with the plans, he re-
marked that, “My receptiveness to the beauty of handwork does
not prevent me from recognizing that handicrafts as a form of eco-
nomic production are lost. […] We cannot save them any more.”8
Although his prognosis is expressed dispassionately and without
the slightest hint of nostalgia, the Mosler House appears in retro-
spect to champion the very opposite. Today we know that Mies’
prognosed decline in the quality of craftsmanship was correct, and
in this respect the house represents a landmark in Mies’ work for
the quality of its execution.
Despite the fact that the house demonstrates Mies’ declared
principle of “maximising the spatial impression of the plan”, from
outside it looks plain and even austere, causing the building com-
mission to take it for a military barracks. However, its sizeable di-
mensions and the exceptionally high quality of its fittings can also
evoke associations with a castle or manor. Mies invested a large
part of the financial resources in the materials and detailing.
The seemingly insignificant detail of the door fittings with
handles at two different positions necessitated a complex inter-
nal locking mechanism and was an elaborate custom-made fitting

48 M o sler h o u se
Urban House, Conversion In this conversion of an existing house, Mies converted the conser-
Berlin-Charlottenburg, Germany, 1924–26 vatory into a room for the lady of the house. In addition to insert­
ing new sliding doors, he created a glazed bay window, which has
since been destroyed. A residence for the chauffeur was also built
on top of the garage. These conversions were made in the spirit of
the original building rather than contrasting with it. While his de-
sign for the new windows emulated the other windows down to the
last detail, the detailing of the new sliding doors lends them a char­
acter of their own. In the most recent renovation in 2010, further
original details were lost. The timber windows of the chauffeur’s
residence were replaced with plastic windows.1

1 For further information on the history of the building see: Andreas Marx
and Paul Weber, “Konventionelle Kontinuität – Mies van der Rohes Baumaß­
nahmen an Haus Urban 1924–26. Anlass zu einer Neueinschätzung seines
konventionellen Werkes”, in: Johannes Cramer and Dorothée Sack (eds.),
Mies van der Rohe: Frühe Bauten. Probleme der Erhaltung, Probleme der
Bewertung, Petersberg 2004, pp. 163–178.

Ground floor plan


Detail of door 49
Terraced housing
End building 51
French windows in the living and dining area
54 Balcony
diagram that reflects the internal arrangement of the house and produced on a phonograph record, Mies in Berlin, Bauwellt, Berlin 1966.
refrains entirely from individual variation or expressive gestures. 7 Franz Schulze and Edward Windhorst, Mies van der Rohe – A Critical
Biography – New and Revised Edition, Chicago, London 2012, p. 83.
The precision of the proportioning was described by Sergius
8 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in: Moisés Puente (ed.), Conversations with
Ruegenberg, a member of Mies’ staff: “From the very beginning Mies van der Rohe, Barcelona 2006, p. 20 (in: Interbuild, June 1959).
as I started making drawings for him for a block of housing on the
Afrikanische Straße, he was interested in every detail. This house
was to be built with very conventional materials […]. We had brick,
we had timber windows and ceiling joists, which are as old as can
be. The only truly new aspect was the flat roof. And that inter­
ested him so much that he sat down next to me and worked with
me sketching out details of the timbers. It was the same with the
proportions of the windows in the wall surfaces. That was really
all we had to play with: making the fronts of these large hous-
ing blocks as beautiful as possible by proportioning the windows
and wall surfaces. I laid sheet after sheet of tracing paper over
one another and then we shifted the lines micrometre for micro-
metre, made them wider apart, then smaller and compared them
with one another.”4

Later alterations to the building


After the war, the buildings were given a rough render coat, which
was typical for the time. This was only replaced in 1998 on the
street-facing façades by an ochre-coloured finer render. Based on
old material found in the building, the reddish colour of one of the
staircases was restored. Of the original windows and doors that
still exist, many are in a perfect condition. Unfortunately, these are
gradually being replaced by modern reconstructions.

The building as seen from the present


Twenty years after the complex was completed, Philip Johnson
wrote: “In 1925 he built a group of low-cost apartments for the
city of Berlin, in which, despite the exigencies of economy, plan
and fenestration, he achieved an effect of simple, unforced dig-
nity.”5 For Mies, Johnson’s choice of words – low-cost and simple
– were inappropriate as descriptions for his own work: “Please­do
not confuse the simple with the simple-minded. There is a differ­
ence. I love simplicity, but probably for reasons of clarity, not cheap­­
ness or anything like that. That does not enter our heads when
we are working.”6
While Franz Schulze wrote in the mid-1980s that the complex
“typified the leanly functional architecture of the Existenzmini-
mum,”7 Reyner Banham, Julius Posener and Fritz Neumeyer have
argued that the qualities of this project set it apart from other
housing schemes of the time.
In retrospect, we can see that this project marks a turning point
in Mies’ oeuvre. He himself said that 1926 was a crucial year for
him: “I would say that 1926 was the most significant year. […] It
was a year of great realization of awareness.”8 But this shift from
“conventional” architecture to “radically modern” architecture did
not take place as abruptly as it is often portrayed. The façades of
this housing scheme, with their precisely incised timber windows,
are as symmetrically arranged as in the case of his equally solidly
built villas in which house and garden are likewise fashioned into
a whole. As with his houses, here too elements were mounted on
the façades for climbing plants to grow up.

1 Peter Blake describing the Perls House in: The Master Builders: Le
Corbusier, Mies van der Rohe, Frank Lloyd Wright, New York 1960, p. 176.
2 Fritz Neumeyer, “Schinkel im Zeilenbau – Mies van der Rohes Siedlung
an der Afrikanischen Straße in Berlin-Wedding”, in: Andreas Beyer, Vittorio
Lampugnani and Gunter Schweikhart (eds.), Hülle und Fülle – Festschrift für
Tilmann Buddensieg, Alfter 1993, p. 420.
3 Mies used this cross bond a second time for the Verseidag Factory in
Krefeld.
4 Sergius Ruegenberg in conversation with Günther Kühne on 28 Feb. 1986,
in: Bauwelt, vol. 11, 1986, pp. 348–349.
5 Philip Johnson, Mies van der Rohe, New York 1947, p. 35.
6 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Ulrich Conrads in 1964,

End buildings Housing on the Afrikanische Strasse 55


Monument to Karl Liebknecht and Rosa Luxemburg For the tomb of Karl Liebknecht, Rosa Luxemburg and other soci-
Berlin-Lichtenberg, Germany, 1926 alists murdered in 1919, Mies created a monument in Friedrichs-
destroyed felde Cemetery in Berlin. The monument is both an object as well
as a space. The monument itself stood in the centre of a low-walled
enclosure. Mies later recounted how he came about the commis-
sion almost by chance after Eduard Fuchs, the owner of Mies’ sec­
ond house, showed him a proposal: “It was an elaborate stone
monument with Doric columns and medallions of Luxemburg and
Liebknecht. When I saw it, I started to laugh and told him it would
be a fine monument for a banker. […] I told him I hadn’t the sligh-
test idea of what I would do in its place, but as most of these peo-
ple were shot in front of a wall, a brick wall is what I would build.”1
The monument was clad in brick laid in an irregular masonry
bond – unique in Mies’ oeuvre – with an upright course of bricks
around the base of each cuboid block. To support these cantile-
vering blocks, a bearing was needed that is concealed behind the
brickwork. The monument was demolished in 1935. For a long
while, nothing was known about the reverse side of the monu-
ment. A photograph published in 2006 reveals that it followed
the same principle as the front face.2

1 Mies in a letter to Donald Drew Egbert, in: idem., Social Radicalism and
the Arts – Western Europe, New York 1970, pp. 661–662.
2 Mies Haus Magazin. Periodikum zur Kultur der Moderne 2, 2006, p. 40.

Elevation
Top view 57
Site plan
East façade 59
changeable lightweight partitions that are clad in high-quality
Macassar panelling and stand as a freestanding core in the room.
­­­Mies describes his design concept as follows:
“As you know, I intend to try out the most varied plans in this
apartment house. For the time being, I am building only the out-
side and common walls, and inside each apartment only the two
piers that support the ceiling. All the rest is to be as free as it pos-
sibly can be. If I could contrive to get some cheap plywood par-
titions made, I would treat only the kitchen and the bathroom as
fixed spaces, and make the rest of the apartment variable, so that
the spaces could be divided according to the needs of the indivi-
dual tenant. This would have the advantage that it would make it
possible to rearrange the apartment whenever family circumstan-
ces changed, without spending a lot of money on a conversion.
Any carpenter, or any practically minded layman, would be able
to shift the walls.”6
The principle of a free plan that he describes is not new but
at that time was not used widely in housing. Other architects also
propagated this principle, such as Le Corbusier, who built two of
the houses in the colony. A few years earlier, in his first published
text, Mies had called for a constructional separation of structure
and spatial divisions. “The only fixed points in the ground plan
are the stairs and the elevator shafts,” he wrote. “All other sub-
divisions of the ground plan are to be adapted to the respective
needs”.7 Given the development of his later work, this first text
appears in retrospect to be something of a manifesto. Only after
working for 20 years in his own right did he finally achieve this
constructional separation of structure and partition in his design
for the apartment building in the Weißenhofsiedlung.

Later alterations to the building


During the war, the building was converted into a children’s hos-
pital. The original floor plans and room-height doors were lost in
the process. From 1984–86 the building was comprehensively re-
novated, but here too changes were made to the building. The
façades were clad with polystyrene foam insulation to conform to
thermal insulation regulations, which increased the depth of the
window jambs from 13 to 17.5 cm. The original wooden twin-pane
windows were replaced with insulated double-glazed windows and
the original linoleum floor with PVC flooring. One of the demons-
tration apartments was reconstructed, although without resur­­
re­ct­ing the system of demountable partition walls.8

The building as seen from the present


The Weißenhofsiedlung exhibition attracted several hundred
thousand visitors and was a success for the Deutscher Werkbund
not just as a demonstration of the newest developments in ar-
chitecture, but also as a manifestation of a new movement. But
because by definition Neues Bauen – New Architecture – broke
with the conventional ways of building, the colony was also per-
ceived as a provocation. This can still be seen today in those ­cases
where politicians ordered that flat roofs be converted into pitched
roofs. As a large-scale media event, the architecture of the Wei-
ßenhofsiedlung was clearly influential.
In the context of Mies’ later work, the realisation of a free plan
was important. In retrospect, however, the architectonic potential
of separating the loadbearing from the non-loadbearing walls was
only hinted at. The loadbearing steel structure lies in the plane of
the façade. The steel profiles of the structural frame are incorpo-
rated into the structure of the wall and lie buried beneath a layer
of plaster, which was later to be the source of damages; but this
construction did make large glazed surfaces possible as well as a
modern expression that Mies had not articulated with such clarity
in his earlier built works. The widespread media attention that this
architecture received was a new phenomenon for Mies and had a
substantial effect on his career.

East façade
Staircase window
60 Stair balustrade
Without maintenance and renovation, the building would today
be a ruin. It was, however, built quite consciously as a prototype,
and it would be wrong to declare the building a typical example
of functionalist architecture for the most basic needs of living. It
differs from most of the radically modern buildings of the time, in
which being avant-garde conditioned breaking with the tradition
of building. The architectural quality of Mies’ apartment build­ing
is the product of his twenty years of experience of erecting good
buildings in almost any situation – good in terms of their use of
materials, solid construction and the perfection of details.

1 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in: Deutscher Werkbund (ed.), Bau und
Wohnung, Stuttgart 1927.
2 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Henry Thomas Cadbury-
Brown in: Architectural Association Journal, July/Aug. 1959, p. 31.
3 Cf. note 1.
4 Cf. note 2.
5 Philip Johnson, Mies van der Rohe, New York 1947, p. 43.
6 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in a letter to Erna Meyer from 6 Jan. 1927, in:
Karin Kirsch, The Weißenhofsiedlung, New York 1989, pp. 47–48.
7 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in: Frühlicht, no. 4, 1922, p. 124. English trans-
lation in: Fritz Neumeyer, The Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the
Building Art, Cambridge, Mass. 1991, p. 240.
8 Cf. Hermann Nägele, Die Restaurierung der Weißenhofsiedlung 1981–87,
Stuttgart 1992.

Floor plan of an apartment


West façade Wei ssenho fs ie dl u ng Apartmen t B l o c k 61
Glass Room Even though the Glass Room was built as an installation in an ex-
“Die Wohnung” Werkbund Exhibition, Stuttgart, Germany, 1927 hibition context, it can be regarded as a manifesto for a r­ e­sidential
destroyed space.1 Mies employed furnishings to exemplify the diffe­r­­­­­ent
­residential zones of a house, while allowing these to transition
into one another in a single flowing spatial continuum. From a
vestibule, one entered a living area, denoted by armchairs and
a couch table, followed by a dining room with dining table and
workroom with desk.
The dynamic constellation of spaces is best understood by
walking through the rooms. As soon one enters a new zone, one’s
view is drawn to the sides where further spaces can be seen be-
hind the glass wall. Views also open onto two “outdoor spaces”,
an elongated planted space and a courtyard-like space contain­
ing a sculpture by Wilhelm Lehmbruck. Visitors are led along an
S-shaped path around the room-height panes of glass.
The flooring material of black, white and red areas of lino-
leum reflects the different zones. The floor covering continued
with a uniform composition into the neighbouring square hall
in which the German Linoleum Works presented their products.
The inter­ior of both now demolished halls at Gewerbehalleplatz
was designed by Mies and Lilly Reich – and for the hall with the
linol­eum exhibition with the artist Willi Baumeister.
The Glass Room came about as a result of Mies’ own initiative:
three months before the exhibition was to begin, Mies put the
idea to the Association of German Glass Producers who ­agreed
to sponsor the exhibition. The installation was dismantled after
the end of the Werkbund Exhibition.

1 In the exhibition catalogue, the room is called the “living room”. See also
Karin Kirsch, Die Weißenhofsiedlung, Stuttgart 1987, p. 36.

62 Floor plan
Samt und Seide Café (Velvet and Silk Café) Together with Lilly Reich, Mies created a temporary installation for
Berlin, Germany, temporary installation for an exhibition 1927 the fashion exhibition “Die Mode der Dame” (Women’s Fashion)
destroyed at the Funkturm in Berlin. At one end of a long hall, coloured fab-
ric was draped over bent tubular metal rods: “black, orange and
red velvet; gold, silver, black and lemon-yellow silk.”1 As with the
Glass Room, the installation demonstrated a spatial principle that
would come to be known as “flowing space” in which the different
spatial areas are linked to one another at their corners. In contrast
to the orthogonality of the Glass Room, the character of the fabric
is addition­ally emphasised by the use of curved forms.
The reconstructed floor plan, which is reminiscent of an
abstract De-Stijl composition, shows the structure of the draped
walls between which Mies’ chairs and table stood. The sumptious
quality of the fabric is heightened by the light colour of the
linoleum floor.

1 Philip Johnson, Mies van der Rohe, New York 1947, p. 50. A detailed
description of this project, which was later also erected in Holland, can be
found in: Christiane Lange, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe – Architektur für die
Seidenindustrie, Berlin 2011, p. 71–82.

Floor plan 63
View from the garden 65
reuses a motif that he designed 16 years earlier and creates an L-
shaped space that was to become formative for the future.

1 The original floor plan of the executed design, dated 10 May 1928, is
available in the building records for the “Hermannstraße 14–16” in the
Bau- und Wohnungsaufsichtsamt Zehlendorf (Building Control and Housing
Department). Very few photos remain of the original building.
2 Mies van der Rohe in a manuscript from 19 June 1924, in: Fritz Neumeyer,
The Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the Building Art, Cambridge,
Mass., 1991, p. 250. Mies was describing his unbuilt design for a brick
country house.
3 Jörn Köppler, “Natur und Poetik in Mies van der Rohes Berliner Werken”,
in: Christophe Girot (ed.), Mies als Gärtner, Zurich 2011, p. 33.
4 Dietrich von Beulwitz, who renovated the building, assembled a
collection of all the available documents he could find (to date still in his
ownership) that record the original condition of the building. For further
information on the renovation, see: Dietrich von Beulwitz, “The Perls House
by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe”, Architectural Design, vol. 11–12, 1983.
5 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in: Moisés Puente (ed.), Conversations with
Mies van der Rohe, Barcelona 2006, p. 20 (in: Interbuild, June 1959).

View from the garden


Extension
66 View into the garden
Façade of the extension fuchs gallery, addition to the perls house 67
Lange and Esters Houses The two neighbouring houses for the managing directors of the
Krefeld, Germany, 1927–30 Verseidag silk-weaving mills differ markedly from the buildings
in the surroundings. Although faced with brick, the predominant
building material in the region, their flat roofs and L-shaped ar-
rangement lend them a sculptural appearance of cubist volumes.
The lack of overhanging eaves and projecting bays heightens the
sense of geometric clarity.
The appearance of the buildings changes as one moves around
them. From the garden one sees a stepped arrangement with
large windows and terraces. Some of the windowpanes can be
lowered into the floor. The division between inside and outside
is overcome by staggering the buildings, allowing diagonal views
from outside through the interior to the outside areas beyond.
Trans­­i­­t­ion­al zones are also used to create a sense of interlocking
spaces. The roofed-over terraces, for example, are given windows
to b­ ecome outdoor “rooms”.1 While the building volumes pres-
ent a closed, block-like frontage to the road, the reverse ­effect is
created on the garden-side: the building and terraces transition
into the landscape.
It is apparent when visiting both buildings consecutively that
they were designed together. They share not only the same con-
struction methods and details but also the same principal spa-
tial arrangement, with only slight variations. The centre of each
house is an elongated hallway which leads on to the various
rooms. In the Lange House to the west, this hallway ends with
an apse which was designed to hold an organ and could be sep­
arated off from the main space using a curtain. In both houses,
the rooms of the owners were located to the west with a simi-
larly L-shaped dining room between the hallway and the roofed-
over terrace. All of these rooms open directly onto an outdoor
space, as do the series of bedrooms, each with an own bathroom,
on the upper floor.
Although the houses are brick buildings, the long horizon-
tal bands of windows suggest a more modern construction tech-
nique: embedded within the walls are numerous concealed steel
members that together constitute a complex steel structure. Al­
though the brick facing made of Bockhorn brick laid in English
bond creates the impression of solid masonry walls, especially
as wall planes extend out into the garden, they are in fact simply
a facing layer. The meticulously executed brickwork is simply a
skin, while the loadbearing walls are made of standard brick ma-
sonry with a different bond. 2 The choice of brick bond gives the
facing skin a more abstract treatment than the Dutch bond used
for the earlier Kempner, Mosler and Wolf Houses, and window
lintels and coping details have not been articulated. The walls
are capped by a narrow metal sheet covering while the window
openings look as if they have been cut directly out of the sur-
face of the wall.
Philip Johnson remarked on Mies’ use of brickwork as follows:
“His admiration led him to extraordinary measures: in order to in-
sure the evenness of the bonding at corners and apertures, he cal-
culated all dimensions in brick lengths and occasionally went so
far as to separate the under-fired long bricks from the over-fired
short ones, using the long in one dimension and the short in the
other.”3 The striped appearance of the brickwork that can be seen
under certain lighting conditions further emphasizes the horizon-
tality of the buildings.
Although both houses are built of brick, their large horizontal
windows are more reminiscent of the unrealised “Concrete Coun-
try House” project that Mies designed in 1923 to demonstrate the
particular potential of concrete. He argued that in concrete walls,
which he described as a “skin”, it was possible to place windows
freely as needed: “I cut openings into the walls where I need them
for view or illumination.”4 The windows in the houses for the two
art collectors in Krefeld frame views of the landscape that enter
into a dialogue with the paintings hung in the interiors.

68 Side entrance, Esters House


Street elevation, Esters House
Side courtyard, Esters House 69
Later alterations to the buildings
Both buildings are now part of an art gallery and their interiors
have therefore been simplified. Numerous architectural elements
and fittings have been removed, including doors, fitted display
cabinets, partitioning walls made of timber panelling, cupboards
that were room dividers, curtains, ceiling lights designed by Mies
as well as the travertine slabs that projected out of the walls as
ledges for sculptures. Consequently, the spaces in the interiors
appear not only more purist but also more open and flowing than
they originally were. The niche for the organ in the Lange House
was closed off and the room has remained in this state since 1961
when Yves Klein painted the entire room white and declared it a
work of art. This “void space” was restored in 2009. Outside, the
staircase leading to the entrance of the Esters House has been al-
tered by extending one of the retaining walls.5

The buildings as seen from the present


Mies’ remarked some time later that he had originally wanted to
employ more glass for these houses, which were built around the
same time as the Barcelona Pavilion and Villa Tugendhat, and this
has led these houses to be regarded as somewhat obsolete and
compromised in his oeuvre. In retrospect, however, they reveal the
ideological tension in his work at that time. On the one hand he
sought to find a specific tectonic expression and haptic sensibility
for each building material, and on the other he was interest­ed in
the open plan spatial concepts of the avant-garde and their drive
towards abstraction.
Although here the rooms are traditional separate entities each
separated off by a door, and a free arrangement of the plan is only
partially indicated, Mies was nevertheless able to create a sense
of openness using diagonal visual axes. However, the large open­
ings for the multi-leaf glass doors and the windows could only be
realised with the considerable utilisation of steel members. The
clear cubist clarity of the building volumes resolves this tension
while the white plastered interiors continue to lend themselves to
being used as a place for exhibiting works of art.

1 The principle of using windows between two outdoor areas can also be
seen in Mies’ earlier Riehl, Urbig and Kempner Houses.
2 While the working drawings set out the precise position of every facing
brick, the loadbearing walls were executed in cross bond. Cf. Kent Klein-
mann and Leslie Van Duzer, Mies van der Rohe – The Krefeld Villas, New
York 2005, p. 69.
3 Philip Johnson, Mies van der Rohe, New York 1947, p. 35.
4 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, “Building“ (1923), in: Fritz Neumeyer, The
Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the Building Art, Cambridge, Mass.
1991,
p. 243.
5 For further information on the restoration of the house, see: Klaus Rey-
mann and Patrick Hoefer, “Eine behutsame Erneuerung – Restaurierung von
Haus Lange und Haus Esters”, in: Das Architekten-Magazin, vol. 1, 2001,
pp. 28–33.

72 Interiors, Lange House


View from the garden, Lange House
Terrace, Lange House lange and esters house 73
74 West façades, Lange House
View from the garden, Lange House
Side courtyard, Lange House lange and esters house 75
Barcelona Pavilion “It was the most difficult work which ever confronted me, because
International Exposition, Barcelona, Spain, 1928–29 I was my own client,” said Mies. “I could do what I liked.”1 The
reconstructed commission from the German Government to build the German
Pavilion for the International Exposition in Barcelona lacked both a
programme as well as exhibits to put on show. The official request
was simply for a building to represent the nation, which caused a
contemporary commentator to describe it as “architecture as fine
art.”2 Mies was even able to propose where the build­ing should
be sited: at the end of a long square.
Raised on a podium made of travertine are a series of separ­
ate wall planes and two pools of water, creating a succession of
spaces that flow into one another. The indoor and outdoor spaces
are interwoven into a complex constellation in which the walls
structure but no longer enclose space. Instead of “a row of indi-
vidual rooms,” wrote Mies, “I have striven for a series of spatial
effects.”3 In contrast to the smaller, more enclosed pool, which
is lined with black glass reflecting Georg Kolbe’s sculptural figure
entitled “Dawn”, the large pool “in which the water appears to
be light green”4 is light and open.
The walls are made of sumptuous materials including Roman
travertine, green polished Tinian marble and Vert antique from
the French Alps. In the central space of the interior is a wall plane
made of Moroccan onyx doré with a honey-yellow colour. For the
glazed walls, an entire repertoire of materials have been emplo-
yed: in addition to transparent glass, the building makes use of
green and grey glass, frosted glass as well as black opaque glass
for the table tops. Mies’ specially designed Barcelona chairs and
ottomans, with their chrome-plated steel frame and white glacé
leather upholstering stand on a black velour carpet in the interior.
Mies had learned to assess marble in his father’s stonemason’s
firm. The selection of German stone that had been proposed was
not “noble”5 enough in his eyes, and so he went in search of a
suit­able specimen himself in a Hamburg stoneyard in which he dis-
covered a block of onyx to his liking. “‘Listen, let me see it,’ and
they at once shouted: ‘No, no, no, that can’t be done, for Heaven’s
sake you mustn’t touch that marvellous piece.’ But I said: ‘Just give
me a hammer, will you, and I’ll show you how we used to do that
at home.’ So reluctantly they brought a hammer, and they were
curious whether I would want to chip away a corner. But no, I hit
the block hard just once right in the middle, and off came a thin
slab the size of my hand. ‘Now go and polish it at once so that I
can see it.’ And so we decided to use onyx.”6
The onyx wall is placed as a freestanding plane in the pavil­
ion. “One evening as I was working late on that building I made a
sketch of a freestanding wall, and I got a shock. I knew that it was
a new principle.”7 This principle was to become a central theme
of the architectural concept and is experienced physically within
the pavilion. On ascending the stairs up to the podium, visitors
are led in a U-turn around a glass wall into the interior of the pa-
vilion. The principle of the freestanding wall was instrumental in
the design process. Sergius Ruegenberg, who worked in Mies’ of-
fice, described how the design was developed using a model, a
method that was typical for Mies. His later office in Chicago was
like a large model workshop.
“I made a base out of plasticine at a scale of 1:50. […] Then I
cut strips of card at the height of the walls, about 3 metres (6 cm
in the model), and stuck coloured Japanese paper onto them. […]
We also needed strips of glass, which I obtained from a glazier.
[…] Now we could start to play: because the base was soft, the
walls stayed upright. […] The walls were moved back and forth,
and the illumination of the room was examined using a ‘luminous
wall’. Once the position of the walls and the rooms was decided
on, a piece of cardboard was laid on top for the ceiling. […] We
kept on removing the cardboard roof to experiment with the pos­
itioning of the columns. For the pools I had a light-green piece of
cardboard and a black piece of card for the smaller pool.”8

Floor plan
76 View looking south
Sculpture by Georg Kolbe
View from outside 77
78 Interior areas
Outdoor areas barcelona pavilion 79
The roof is borne by eight evenly spaced columns that are po- of the marble is reflected about a horizontal line at half-height.
sitioned to one side of the walls. Together with the roof slab, the In the original wall there was also a horizontal joint – Mies descri-
columns form a structural unit that represents a separate architec- bed the space as being twice the height of the onyx block – but
tonic element independent of the non-loadbearing parti­tioning the stone patterning was not originally reflected.
walls. Different means of expression are used to emphasise the
contrast between the two elements: while the symmetrical regular­ The building as seen from the present
ity and static repose of the columns and roof emphasises its struc- Although specific details of the reconstructed building differ from
tural clarity, the walls create a labyrinthine constellation of spaces the original, it still provides us with an insight into Mies’ architec-
that lead the visitor in a circulatory passage through the pavilion. ture. Robin Evans discovered in his own slides of the building the
And while the columns are made to recede by giving them a re- phenomenon of a horizontal mirrored axis – a product of the mod­
flective surface treatment that blends their materiality into their ern version of the onyx wall – that he argues makes it hard to tell
surroundings, the walls are clad with extremely sumptuous mate- apart what is up and what is down: “Notice the difficulty of dis-
rials that assert themselves and define the character of the space tinguishing the travertine floor, which reflects the light, from the
around them. plaster ceiling, which receives it. If the floor and the ceiling had
The industrial-looking columns have neither base nor capital been of the same material, the difference in brightness would have
and span between the floor and roof slab, while the roof slab ap- been greater. Here, Mies used material asymmetry to create op-
pears to rest like a homogenous plane on the walls. The entire tical symmetry, rebounding the natural light in order to make the
build­ing is, however, a steel construction that is clad with differ­ ceiling more sky-like and the ambiance more expansive.”12 This
ent materials. Even the roof – which was erroneously described as phenomenon he has described as a “paradoxical symmetry”, al­
being a “monolithic white slab”9 in an early article on the pavil­ though we now know that at the time the photos of the pavilion
ion – is a hollow steel construction. “During construction, a further were retouched to emphasise this effect.
sheet of metal was riveted in place at one corner near the en­trance The built context in which the building stands has since been
in order to achieve the necessary cantilever,” reported Ruegen- altered. Originally a row of classical columns stood in front of the
berg. “Mies did not like that at all, but in the end the whole steel building through which a path and stairs led up to the “Spanish
construc­tion of the roof was rendered giving it the impression village”, a part of the original exposition that still exists today. Vis­
of a slab (of concrete for example) with a thickness of 24 cm.”10 itors passed through this building and past the plateau. The Barce-
That the roof plane is articulated as a flat surface without sup- lona Pavilion is more than just a building; it is a complex in which
porting beams is a direct consequence of the principle of the free the interior fuses with the architectural landscape of its surround-
plan. Le Corbusier had previously illustrated this same principle ings to form a single entity.
in his concept of the plan libre executed in concrete, where two
horizontal slabs sandwich a space between them. Colin Rowe de- 1 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Henry Thomas Cadbury-
Brown in: Architectural Association Journal, July/Aug. 1959, pp. 27–28.
scribes the reasoning behind this: “In fact, the appearance of
2 Justus Bier, “Mies van der Rohes Reichspavillon in Barcelona”, in: Die
­beams could only tend to prescribe fixed positions for the parti- Form, 15 Aug. 1929, p. 423.
tions; and, since these fixed positions would be in line with the 3 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in a manuscript dated 19 June 1924, in: Fritz
columns, it was therefore essential, if the independence of col­ Neumeyer, The Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the Building Art,
umns and partitions was to be asserted with any eloquence, that Cambridge, Mass. 1991, p. 250. Mies was referring to his unbuilt design for
a Brick Country House.
the underside of the slab should be expressed as an uninterrup-
4 Cf. note 2.
ted horizontal surface.”11 5 Cited by Sergius Ruegenberg in a manuscript, Mies van der Rohe Archive,
While the classical structure of columns always sees column, MoMA in New York.
capital and architrave as a single tectonic unit, in the case of the 6 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Ulrich Conrads in 1964,
pavilion, the beam is concealed within the ceiling. Nevertheless produced on a phonograph record, “Mies in Berlin”, Bauwelt,
Berlin 1966.
the cruciform columns are not entirely devoid of “classical” qual­
7 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in an interview on 13 Feb. 1952, in: Master
ities: the indented vertical profiling recalls the fluting of columns Builder, no. 3, 1952, p. 28.
from antiquity. The columns in Barcelona are made out of a com- 8 Sergius Ruegenberg in a manuscript in: Eva-Maria Amberger, Sergius
plex assembly of standard profiles. Four rounded-edged angle Ruegenberg – Architekt zwischen Mies van der Rohe und Hans Scharoun,
Berlin 2000, p. 78 (translation JR).
profiles of even dimensions are welded together with four T-pro-
9 Cf. note 2.
files with symmetrically trimmed crossbars to form the shape of
10 Cf. note 8, p. 81.
a cross. An encasing mantle of chrome-plated sheet metal defi- 11 Colin Rowe, “Neo-‘Classicism’ and Modern Architecture II” (written
nes the final form of the column but does not reveal how the pro- 1956–57, first published in 1973), in: The Mathematics of the Ideal Villa and
files were put together. This mantle can be thought of as a skin, Other Essays, Cambridge, Mass. 1987, p. 143.
12 Robin Evans, “Mies van der Rohe’s Paradoxical Symmetries”, in: AA
and Mies did indeed term skeleton frame buildings as “skin and
Files, no. 19, 1990, pp. 63–64.
bon­es architecture”.

Later alterations to the building


After the International Exposition, the Barcelona Pavilion was dis-
mantled. Although the original intention was to rebuild it at ano-
ther location, the individual elements have since been lost. Much
later, in 1986, the architects Ignasi de Solà-Morales, Cristian Ci-
rici and Fernando Ramos reconstructed the building, although
not quite on the exact same spot. Unlike the original building, the
roof slab is made of reinforced concrete. The colour of the glazed
walls, described as mouse-grey and bottle-green, also appears
more pronounced in historical photos than in the reconstruction.
In the interior a red curtain is also hung, although this cannot be
seen in the original photos. The honey-yellow onyx wall of the ori-
ginal is much redder in the modern reconstruction, and the grain

80 barcelona pavilion
German Electrical Industry Pavilion Although the second of the pavilions that Mies designed for the
World Exposition, Barcelona, Spain, 1929 World Exposition in Barcelona appears to be an antithesis of his
destroyed more famous Barcelona Pavilion, there are conceptual similarities. 1
Here the supporting construction is also separated from the wall,
and here too eight columns arranged in two parallel rows support
the roof. The use of I-beams as pilasters appears here for the first
time in Mies’ oeuvre and presents a structural system that spans
20 metres.2 This pavilion also employs visual means to create the
illusion of an expansive interior. From outside, the pavilion is as it
seems: a white cube. The interior walls, however, were papered
with photographic panels that were assembled to form vast pan­
oramas, creating the illusion of an expanse of space. Although the
interior design was not from Mies’ own hand, he was obsessed
with the idea of photographic wallpaper and even applied for a
patent. He wrote, “Through this invention, it becomes possible
to manufacture wallpapers that create an entirely new effect, es-
pecially with regard to the impression of depth. […] A particu-
lar advantage of the approach described in this invention is that
wallpaper designs will no longer need to be made but can be re-
produced from nature in the form of photographs that are then
used to make wallpaper.”3
The square floor plan that Mies had previously avoided can be
attributed to the need for four interior wall elevations of equal im-
portance. Although the ceiling spanned in one direction, this was
not visible due to the insertion of a suspended ceiling at a height
of about 10 metres. The design went to great lengths to commu-
nicate the impression of simplicity, concealing the rainwater gut-
ters by incorporating them into the white rendered brick walls.

1 A comprehensive analysis of the building can be found in: Mechthild


Heuser, Die Kunst der Fuge. Von der AEG-Turbinenfabrik zum Illinois
Institute of Technology: Das Stahlskelett als ästhetische Kategorie,
Dissertation Humboldt-Universität, Berlin 1998, pp. 80–90.
2 The dimensions 20 by 20 meters and 15 metres high are given in the
Jahrbuch der Verkehrsdirektion, Veröffentlichungen der BEWAG, vol. 10,
p. 39ff. In the Zentralblatt der Bauverwaltung from 21 Aug. 1929, p. 546,
Walter Genzmer writes: “Its external walls are made of brick masonry,
reinforced in sections by iron columns.” (translation JR)
3 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, “Verfahren zum Bedrucken von
Tapetenbahnen”, patent application submitted on 12 March 1938,
reproduced in: Helmut Reuter and Birgit Schulte (eds.), Mies and Modern
Living: Interiors, Furniture, Photography, Ostfildern 2008, p. 266.

Elevation
Floor plan 81
View from the street
View from the garden 83
imperceptibly from one spatial zone to the next, the precise use
of lighting choreographing the visitor’s passage through space.
Rather than finding themselves suddenly in the midst of the ar-
chitecture, visitors are gradually drawn in through a series of tran-
sitional zones – a phenomenon that Adolf Loos termed “Introduc-
tion”6 – without being afforded a view of the entire building from
any single point. Silk curtains hung from tracks can also be drawn
as dividers to create different spatial constellations. In this house,
Mies also takes one of his central themes, the interplay between in-
door and outdoor spaces, to new heights. In addition to using tran-
sitional spaces such as the conservatory adjoining the open living
area, he also places freestanding surfaces of luxurious materials,
such as the onyx wall and the macassar wood screen, using them to
define space in multiple ways. The protective gesture of the roun-
ded screen, for example, is a remarkable architectonic moment
precisely because it simultaneously also creates an entirely differ­
ent situation, demonstratively opening out onto the landscape.

Later alterations to the building


The Jewish owners were only able to live in their house for a few
years before having to flee the Nazi regime. The building was
seized and plundered. Over the years, it was used alternately as
a gymnasium, children’s hospital and guesthouse, each time ex-
periencing fresh alterations. The successive reshaping and disfigu-
ration of the architecture continued when the building was reno-
vated in the 1980s. Tiling was removed and the building painted
with a white synthetic paint that damaged the material of the struc-
ture. The last remaining 15 m2-large retractable pane of glass was
also lost at this time. The most recent renovation from 2010–12
was accompanied by extensive material investigations,7 and the
original condition has been so exactingly reconstructed that it is
now hard to tell what is original and what is reconstruction. Such
endeavours can nevertheless only be an approximation. The re-
newed travertine steps leading down to the garden, for example,
were accidentally laid not with but across the grain of the stone
material. Similarly, the sculpture in front of the onyx wall by Wil-
helm Lehmbruck that played a crucial role in the architectural con-
cept is lacking.

The building as seen from the present


Those who have visited the house in the past will be surprised to
see that it is no longer white. The hydraulic lime render has been
mixed with locally sourced sand, resulting in a slight beige coloura-
tion. The walls in the interior are likewise no longer brilliant white.
A very fine plaster has been used and left unpainted, and on close
inspection one can see the presence of sand here too. Even the
tiles and linoleum flooring are not white but have a slight cream
tone that harmonizes well with the travertine paving.
Mies’ precise detailing can be seen everywhere in the reno-
vation. The bathrooms have been reconstructed according to his-
torical black and white photographs. Computer models of the
washbasins were made from the photos and used to cast the sa-
nitaryware, and even the taps and light switches have been me-
ticulously recreated and the furniture reconstructed. The macas-
sar wood screen, previously believed to be lost, was discovered in
the city’s former Gestapo headquarters and reinstalled. The me-
ticulous attention to detail in the reconstruction work contributes
to the impression one has as a visitor of having travelled back in
time to the point at which the key was handed over.
Soon after the villa was first built, a debate ensued on the
question: can one live in the Tugendhat House? The owners re-
futed the claim that they lived as if on show. The house is now a
museum with the architecture as its principal exhibit. Shortly after
completing the Villa Tugendhat, Mies did actually create a house
as an exhibition. In 1931, in a trade fair hall in Berlin, he desig-
ned a completely furnished house, also with an open plan and a

Entrance
Interior of the entrance area
84 Reconstructed bathroom
Living room
Conservatory Tugendhat house 85
retractable glass wall, whose only function was to advertise the
spatial qualities of the architecture.

1 Gottfried Semper described the properties of walls as non-loadbearing


elements in his book The Four Elements of Architecture. Whether or not
Mies had actively concerned himself with this theory, it is instructive in ana-
lysing the architecture as each element – terrace, roof, wall and hearth –
has been given a specific materiality.
2 Philip Johnson, Mies van der Rohe, New York 1947, p. 80.
3 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe: “I love natural materials” in: Moisés Puente
(ed.), Conversations with Mies van der Rohe, Barcelona 2006, p. 60.
4 An analysis of the spatial concept is given in: Wolf Tegethoff, Mies van der
Rohe: The Villas and Country Houses, Cambridge, Mass. 1995, pp. 90–98.
5 Kenneth Frampton, Studies in Tectonic Culture: The Poetics of
Construction in Nineteenth and Twentieth Century Architecture, Chicago,
Cambridge, Mass. 1995, p. 177.
6 Cf. Heinrich Kulka (ed.), Adolf Loos – Das Werk des Architekten (Adolf
Loos – The Architect’s Work), Vienna 1931, pp. 36–37.
7 Several universities were involved in the “scientific conservation study”,
which was conducted under the leadership of Ivo Hammer.

86 Living areas
Terrace overlooking the garden tugendhat house 87
The factory for the Vereinigten Seidenwebereien AG (Verseidag)
silk-weaving mills consists of separate buildings that are grouped to
form an ensemble. Mies is regarded as the author of the four-storey
warehouse and the attached shed-roofed building. In addition to
the plans and details drawn up in his office, there are also perspec-
tive drawings showing an extension of the building. A couple of
­years after the first phase of building, two further storeys were ad-
ded to the warehouse and the area covered by the shed roofs was
ext­ended. The project was realised in conjunction with the factory’s
own building department that also constructed other buildings on
the site. Mies was involved here as a consultant, also with respect
to the formation of the outdoor spaces.1 Although the list of works
mentions this project as an ensemble of “factory buildings and po-
wer house”,2 one can only speculate on the role he played in the
overall distribution of the buildings. This aspect of the factory com-
plex is, however, of relevance for its later interpretation.
Although the building designed by Mies consists of two dif-
ferent volumes, one sees only a rectangular block on arrival. Al­
though actually L-shaped, due to an escape stair attached at one
end, and despite the fact that the ground floor extends into a dif-
ferent building type altogether, a shed-roofed hall, the impression
of the block is of clear rectangular form. This is because the build­
ing is set apart clearly from the existing surrounding buildings. The
two volumes do not abut directly but are separated by a transi-
tional space, marked in the plans as a “connecting space”. This
is visible from outside as an indentation into which the delivery
ramp has been inserted.
The design for a factory for the textiles industry followed from
the commissions for the Lange and Esters Houses, and thus con-
tinued his work for these clients. The shed-roofed building was
conceived for the dye works, its north-facing roof lights providing
the required even level of illumination. The four-storey block was
used to store the cloth. Both parts of the building are steel const-
ructions. While the I-beams of the shed-roofed section are left ex-
posed, they are sheathed in the warehouse building. Mies strove
for “a construction that is as clear as possible.”3 In contrast to the
cruciform columns of the Barcelona Pavilion and the Tugendhat
House, which are set apart from the wall, these H-shaped columns
stand in the same plane as the walls – a concept that in retrospect
would appear to be a model for Mies’ later work.
Mies was familiar with the task of designing a factory, having
previously worked on the AEG Factory project in the office of ­Peter
Behrens. He noted: “Since the authentic approach to architecture
should always be objective, we find the only valid solutions of that
time to be in those cases where objective limits were impos­ed
and there was no opportunity for subjective license. This was true
of the field of industrial building. It is enough to remember the
­significant creations of Peter Behrens for the electrical industry.”4
But, like Behrens before him, Mies was not free from classical ref­
erences in the design of the factory. Despite the objective cha-
racter of the building, and although Mies himself noted that “he
who builds a factory as if it were a temple lies and disfigures the
landscape”,5 the façades of the building exhibit classical tenden-
cies in their proportions and articulation.
While Behrens follows the example of Schinkel and emphasises
the corners, Mies allows the skeleton frame construction to show on
the façade. The structural frame is exposed across the entire glazed
north façade, delineating the façade of the building. The result is
nevertheless composed: the drainpipes are arranged rhythmically to
create a 1-2-3-2-1 pattern of bays. The plinth is also emphasised: a
brick band around the perimeter laid in cross bond lends expression
to the plinth. Mies used this brick bond exclusively for plinth and
skirting, as in his design for the houses on the Afrikanische Straße.
The window openings in the ground floor also have different pro-
portions to those in the upper storeys: below refle­cting the Gol-
den Section, above with 1:2 proportions.

South frontage
North façade
90 Escape stair balustrade
Warehouse
Window detail verseidag factory 91
Shed roof
92 Staircase
Later alterations to the building der Rohe – Architektur für die Seidenindustrie (Architecture for the Silk-
The later addition of further storeys to the warehouse was achie- Weaving Industry), Berlin 2011, p. 154.
2 Cf. Philip Johnson, Mies van der Rohe, New York 1947, p. 199.
ved using steel beams that span the entire almost 20-metre depth
3 Cited in Christiane Lange, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe – Architektur für die
of the building, allowing a column-free space to be created in the Seidenindustrie (Architecture for the Silk-Weaving Industry), Berlin 2011,
top storey. Later insertions have, however, obstructed a clear view p. 154.
through this space. The glazing has been replaced in all but five 4 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe wrote this in 1940. Published in: Philip
Johnson, Mies van der Rohe, New York 1947, p. 195.
of the windows on the ground floor and the new window profiles
5 Notebook entry from 1928, cited in: Fritz Neumeyer, The Artless Word –
are noticeably thicker than before. Solar blinds have also been ad-
Mies van der Rohe on the Building Art, Cambridge, Mass. 1991, p. 275.
ded that change the proportions of the windows. In the main stair- 6 Alison and Peter Smithson, “Mies van der Rohe” in: Oswald Mathias Ungers
case the sill height has been raised and the glazing replaced with (ed.), Veröffentlichungen zur Architektur, vol. 20, TU Berlin 1968, p. 9.
tint­ed glass. The factory remained in use until recently. 7 Ibid., p. 11.
8 Colin Rowe, “Neo-‘Classicism’ and Modern Architecture II” (written in
1956–57, first published in 1973), in: The Mathematics of the Ideal Villa,
The building as seen from the present and Other Essays, Cambridge, Mass. 1987, pp. 144–145.
For the architects Alison and Peter Smithson, the factory building
represents a new concept of defining space that would later re-
appear in much of Mies’ later work: “This open-space-structured
urban pattern first became real in his work in the grouping of the
out-riding pavilion buildings at the Krefeld factory in which are dis-
played all the formal characteristics – in the buildings, in the lay-
out, and in the planting (weeping willows, smooth lawns) – that
we are so familiar with from the IIT campus. In some way it was all
already there at Krefeld.”6 Looking back, they trace a path from
the spatial concept of the factory to the Lafayette Park project,
which in 1968 they wrote was “certainly the most civilized dwell­
ing-quarter of this century so far”.7
Even though this deduction may seem a little exaggerated to-
day, other aspects of the factory can in retrospect be regarded as
pioneering. Not only the staircase with its formally reduced ba-
lustrade and the exposed wide-flange I-beam, but also the H-
shaped columns can be seen as a precursor to the architecture of
the ­Illinois Institute of Technology projects. This shift in the tecto-
nic system of the column was analysed by Colin Rowe, who by ex-
amining different column concepts traces the fundamental deve-
lopment of Mies’ architectural system. Although the following was
written about the American projects, his analysis applies equally
to the Verseidag factory:
“Mies’ characteristic German column was circular or cruciform;
but his new column became H-shaped, became that I-beam which
is now almost a personal signature. Typically, his German column
had been clearly distinguished from walls and windows, isolated
from them in space; and typically, his new column became an ele-
ment integral with the envelope of the building where it came to
function as a kind of mullion or residue of wall. Thus the column
section was not without some drastic effects on the entire space
of the building.
The circular or cruciform section had tended to push partitions
away from the column. The new tectonic tended to drag them to-
wards it. The old column had offered a minimum of obstruction
to a horizontal movement of space; but the new column presents
a distinctly more substantial stop. The old column had tended to
cause space to gyrate around it, had been central to a rather tenta-
tively defined volume; but the new column instead acts as the en-
closure or the external definition of a major volume in space. The
spatial functions of the two are thus completely differentiated.”8
While the cruciform or circular columns bore a flat roof slab, the
new column has a direction and connects to a system of b ­ eams.
The dividing walls are then installed in line with these axes. Even
though this is a typical construction principle for industrial build­
ings, it is relevant from a tectonic point of view, because it re­
presents a return to the frame as a structural principle.

1 “More displeasing than anything is the two-storey section. The more I


think about this corner, the less I like it”, wrote Mies about the design for
an extension in a letter to the building department from 6 March 1937.
“I would suggest maintaining the clear rectangular form of this building,
certainly on the first floor, and not extend it to meet the old part of the
building as originally planned.” Cited in Christiane Lange, Ludwig Mies van

verseidag factory 93
Trinkhalle (Refreshment Stand) This project was a simple modification of the garden wall of the
Dessau, Germany, 1932 “Master’s House” that Walter Gropius had designed for himself.1
reconstructed Mies found a solution that exudes simplicity – an architecture of
“almost nothing”. The means required to achieve this maximum
degree of minimalism were, however, considerable. The detailing
of the window opening was complicated. The steel frame of the
window was mounted on rollers and could be retracted comple-
tely into the wall. Two slots were made in the wall so that when
the window was open, it appeared as if a window had been cut
out of the wall. The Trinkhalle was demolished in 1970 and was re-
constructed in 2013–14 by the architects Bruno Fioretti Marquez
in an abstracted way.

1 For further information on the history of the building, see: Helmut Erfurth
and Elisabeth Tharandt, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe – Die Trinkhalle – Sein
einziger Bau in Dessau, Dessau 1995. There are no plans of the building
in this publication, however working drawings and details have since
been discovered in the legacy of Eduard Ludwig and are now part of the
collection of the Bauhaus Dessau Foundation.

Floor plan
View from the street 95
Garage door and entrance to the house
View from the garden 97
98 Hall
Living room lemke house 99
View from the street
100 Hall
plots adjoining the Obersee lake were declared part of a prohibi-
ted zone. The building has since been subject to numerous altera-
tions. Interior walls and doors have been changed, a new window
opening was inserted and the garden levelled. From 2000–2002,
the house was comprehensively renovated and the original situa-
tion was largely reinstated. Some original substance was, however,
lost in the process, including the paving of the entrance pathway,
the garage door and the double winder stairs. The oak parquet
flooring, glazed walls, doors and door handles were reconstruc-
ted, as was the garden.5 Today, the “Mies van der Rohe Haus” is
open to visitors and is used as an art gallery. However, the white-
walled interiors of the gallery spaces do not entirely reflect the
original condition, as the south wall of the narrow hall was origi-
nally clad with dark wood panelling.

The building as seen from the present


Although the house clearly distances itself from its neighbouring
buildings, one has to agree with Rem Koolhaas’ commentary that,
“It is a mistake to read Mies as a master of the freestanding, or
the autonomous. Mies without context is like a fish out of water.”6
Mies’ own description of his next project for a house can also be
applied to the Lemke House. Here he uses the term “beauty”,
which he frequently employed, not to describe the built edifice it­
self as an object but also the context and the experience of space.
The house was to be built under “beautiful trees”7 and “it was an
unusually beautiful place for building,” with a “beautiful view” to-
wards the water. He describes the design as “a beautiful alterna-
tion of quiet seclusion and open spaces.”8
Although the Lemke House appears in retrospect to be the
culmination of a long series of freestanding private houses, the
idea of a low, horizontally extending brick building that creates a
courtyard-like situation beneath a group of trees is important for
understanding the development of Mies’ later works. In the unre-
alised projects that followed and later became known as the court­
yard houses, not only do single storey buildings enclose outdoor
spaces, but the houses also have large glazed sections that open
onto these areas. In his early monograph on Mies’ work, Philip
Johnson even described the Lemke House as a courtyard house.

1 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, Inaugural address in Chicago on 20 Nov. 1938,
in: Fritz Neumeyer, The Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the Building Art,
Cambridge, Mass. 1991, p. 316.
2 Eduard Jobst Siedler, Die Lehre vom neuen Bauen – Ein Handbuch der
Baustoffe und Bauweisen (The Principles of New Building – A Manual of
Building Materials and Construction Techniques), Berlin 1932, p. 56.
3 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, manuscript from 13 March 1933, in: Fritz
Neumeyer, The Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the Building Art,
Cambridge, Mass. 1991, p. 314.
4 For a comprehensive documentation of the history of the house, see: Wita
Noack, Konzentrat der Moderne – Das Landhaus Lemke von Ludwig Mies
van der Rohe – Wohnhaus, Baudenkmal und Kunsthaus (Concentrated
Modernism – A Country House for the Lemkes by Ludwig Mies van der
Rohe), Munich, Berlin 2008.
5 The renovation concept is described in: Heribert Suter, “Haus Lemke,
Berlin-Hohenschönhausen – Baugeschichte, Voruntersuchung und
Instandsetzungskonzept”, in: Johannes Cramer and Dorothée Sack (eds.),
Mies van der Rohe: Frühe Bauten. Probleme der Erhaltung, Probleme
der Bewertung (Mies van der Rohe – Early Built Works: Problems in their
conservation and assessment), Petersberg 2004, pp. 115–128.
6 Rem Koolhaas, “Miestakes”, in: Phyllis Lambert (ed.), Mies in America,
Montreal, New York 2001, p. 723.
7 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, “The H. House, Magdeburg”, in: Fritz Neumeyer,
The Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the Building Art, Cambridge, Mass.
1991, p. 314.
8 Ibid.

lemke house 101


Illinois Institute of Technology
Chicago, USA, 1941–58

15
17
}0 18

14

4
10
16

21

1
13

6 7

9 12
19

11

102 Site plan IIT


1 Minerals and Metals Research Building, 1941–43, 1956–58
2 Engineering Research Building, 1943–46
3 Perlstein Hall, 1944–47
4 Alumni Memorial Hall, 1945–46
5 Wishnick Hall, 1945–47
6 Central Vault, 1946
7 Institute of Gas Technology Building, 1947–50
8 Association of American Railroads Research Laboratory, 1948–50
9 Boiler Plant, 1948–50
10 Chapel, 1949–52
11 Test Cell, 1950–52
12 Mechanics Research Building, 1950–52
13 Crown Hall, 1950–56
14 Carman Hall, 1951–53
15 Association of American Railroads Mechanical Laboratory, 1952–53
16 Commons Building, 1952–54
17 Bailey Hall, 1953–55
18 Cunningham Hall, 1953–55
19 Electrical Engineering and Physics Building, 1954–56
20 Association of American Railroads Engineering Laboratory, 1955–57
21 Siegel Hall, 1955–58

Perlstein Hall and Wishnick Hall 103


Shortly after Mies moved from Berlin to Chicago, he began work­ campus and alters the urban situation. Koolhaas understands Mies’
ing on the design for the university campus at which he was la- urban intention as being “generic”, as a flexible structuring prin-
ter to teach. As director of the architecture department, he saw ciple that is the antithesis of a definitive master plan. “Mies does
the buildings as part of a programmatic intention. He designed not design individual buildings, but a formless condition that can
not only the plan for the campus of the future Illinois Institute of manifest itself as building anywhere and be (re)combined in an in-
Technology (IIT) but also the buildings themselves. “I firmly be- finite number of configurations.”5
lieve a campus must have unity. Allowing every building or group Even though the building volumes have been designed as
of build­ings to be designed by a different architect is sometimes clear rectangular forms, they are nevertheless proportioned with
considered democratic, but from my point of view this is just an ex- the utmost of care, as are the spaces between them. People pass­
cuse to avoid the responsibility of accepting one clear idea.”1 Mies ing through the campus on the road along the symmetrical axis
declared that “it was the biggest decision I ever had to make,”2 should have originally experienced a rhythmic succession of wid­er
and presented an ensemble of building volumes arranged along and narrower spaces. The space between the two largest buildings
a symmetrical axis through the central square. The plan takes a ta- should have measured exactly 24 modules and the space to the
bula rasa approach, disregarding the fact that the site was partially south of Perlstein Hall exactly 12.
occupied and situated in a densely populated part of the city. Al­
though it was called a slum, numerous buildings by Louis Sullivan 1 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Katharine Kuh, in:
Saturday Review, 23 Jan. 1965, p. 61.
that stood there were also demolished in the process.
2 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in: Architectural Forum, Nov. 1951, p. 104.
Mies’ first design went as far as to extend across the histori- 3 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Henry Thomas Cadbury-
cal pattern of streets, but the option of building over the streets Brown in 1959, in: Architectural Association Journal, July/Aug. 1959,
was initially refused. In a revised design, he integrated the new pp. 36–37.
buildings in the existing structure of the city. In the revised plan 4 Ibid.
5 Rem Koolhaas, “Miestakes”, in: Phyllis Lambert (ed.), Mies in America,
the central square has been retained despite the general simpli-
Montreal, New York 2001, p. 723.
fication of the building volumes, which also stand more freely ar-
ranged in space. The central square is framed by the two largest
buildings, the Library and Administration Building and the Stu-
dent Union and Auditorium Building, neither of which were built.
In his urban design concept, Mies concentrated initially on di-
mensioning a minimum unit that could function as a module out
of which the entire campus could be developed. “When we star-
ted, I tried to find out what is a classroom, what is a laboratory
and what is a shop. We came to a system of 24 feet, which equals
7.32 metres, a measurement which is used in Switzerland and in
Sweden for school building. So I drew a network of 24 feet by
24 feet all over the campus. The crossing points were the points
where we put columns. Nobody could change that.”3 The basic
grid was also extended upwards where each storey equated to a
half-module of 12 feet. This three-dimensional grid served only to
provide a degree of orientation.
The original site that encompassed eight blocks of Chicago
lies between two sets of railway lines in a once fashionable living
area and was designed as a park-like greened site with the build­
ings distributed in easy fashion over the site like pavilions. For
the design of the outdoor spaces he collaborated with the land-
scape architect Alfred Caldwell. In the earliest drawings one can
already see wide expanses of grass, asymmetrically placed clus-
ters of trees and ivy-clad walls. The architecture and urban design
were conceived of as a unit and were intended to blend with the
vegetation into a new kind of urban landscape.
On the neighbouring site to the east, Mies later designed three
high-rise housing towers for the IIT, a commons building and a cha-
pel. Over the course of 15 years he created 21 buildings for the
IIT, but the overall campus plan remains fragmentary. “The cam-
pus was planned as a unit and, if it cannot be a unit, I have to be
satisfied with the torso,”4 he declared after other architects had
been commissioned to design further buildings. Although they
partially adhered quite closely to Mies’ architectural language, the
clearly demarcated space in the centre has never been fully real­
ised to the present day.
Over the decades, the neighbouring parts of the city became
ever less dense so that the intended contrast between the tightly-
packed building pattern of the surroundings and the carefully or-
dered placement of buildings in green space and its clearly de-
lineated contour lines became ever less apparent. In 2003, Rem
Koolhaas responded in his design for the IIT McCormick Tribute
Campus Center to the original concept but also most notably to
the changed context. His building increases the density of the

104
Carman Hall and Chapel
Siegel Hall and Crown Hall illinois institute of technology 105
East façade
Glazed façade facing west 107
Transition to the extension
Extension Minerals and Metals Research Building 109
sliced off at any point, the Gothic was more commonly referred 5 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Christian Norberg-Schulz,
to in Mies’ milieu as a ‘sausage’. At the point where the slice oc- in: Éditions de l’Architecture d’Aujourd’hui, L’œuvre de Mies van der Rohe,
Paris 1958, p. 100.
curs, the end wall became a diagram of the structure. The structu-
6 Kenneth Frampton, The Evolution of 20th Century Architecture:
ral frame is expressed directly.”4 This can, however, only be seen A Synoptic Account, New York, Vienna 2007, p. 29.
on the end wall. The linear concept of this building is expressed
through the use of two different façade systems: a continuous band
with a hung curtain wall along the long sides and a kind of shell
construction on the narrow sides, as if having bricked in a section
through the building.
From 1956 to 1958, Mies extended the building a further six
bays towards the north. The new addition, however, is a different
building type, and this can be seen on its exterior. The windows
now stretch to the ceiling and lend the building – like Mies’ unre-
alised design from 1923 for a high-rise building made of concrete
– a sense of horizontality that contrasts, without any attempt at a
transition, with the existing building.

Later alterations to the building


The rooms on the ground floor along the west façade along with
the gallery above were demolished. The original glazing facing
the railway lines has also been lost. New stairs were inserted,
openings made in the brick facing walls and sills modified. The
wall that abutted the building to the south was also demolished.
The building is used today by the architecture faculty as a stu-
dio space and is in a state of disrepair, as is the later extension.

The building as seen from the present


As is often typical for buildings built as prototypes, damages star-
ted to appear over time that were, however, to influence the con-
cepts of later campus buildings. The continuous band of the ma-
sonry plinth was structurally connected to the steel frame behind,
causing cracks to appear in the brickwork at the column lines due
to the differential movement of the materials. These cracks led
Mies to modify his principle for the façade. Instead of making the
masonry extend as a continuous band around the entire perimet­er
of the building, it is interrupted at each structural bay to allow
the structural framework to appear on the outside of the building.
The first building that Mies erected in America proved in re-
trospect to be immensely influential. The Minerals and Metals
Research Building served not only as a model for the other cam-
pus buildings and was to be programmatic for Mies’ later work.
It also demonstrated a general position that was to characte-
rise the development of post-war architecture and culminated in
Mies’ dec­laration that: “We would rather than ‘architecture‘ use
the word ‘building‘.”5
Kenneth Frampton has noted that this very economical build­
ing was a key precursor to the work of the office of Skidmore,
Owings & Merrill, as well as for European high-tech architecture.
In the buildings of Team 4, for example, the early collaboration
between Norman Foster and Richard Rogers, who both studied
in the USA, steel girders are left exposed as a primary expressive
element. The architectonic quality derives from the precision of its
detailing. This celebration of the possibilities of construction was
also to be a great economic success. “It is arguable,” according
to Frampton, “that Miesian typology and methodology played a
role similar to that exercised by the Ecole des Beaux Arts at the
turn of the century, in that it provided a modus operandi that
could be readily acquired while still allowing for a certain varia-
tion in the evolution of contemporary practice.”6

1 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, in: Moisés Puente (ed.), Conversations with
Mies van der Rohe, Barcelona 2006, pp. 43–44.
2 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, inauguration address on 20 Nov. 1938 in
Chicago, in: Werner Blaser, Mies van der Rohe – Principles and School,
Basel, Stuttgart 1977, p. 29.
3 Philip Johnson, Mies van der Rohe, New York 1947, p. 138.
4 Phyllis Lambert (ed.), Mies in America, Montreal, New York 2001, pp. 290–291.

110 Minerals and Metals Research Building


Engineering Research Building Due to a shortage of steel during the war, the building was made
Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1943–46 of concrete. The frame construction is left exposed and unclad on
the façade of the building while the panels between them are filled
with brickwork in the lower section and window elements above.
Articulating the separation of loadbearing and non-loadbearing
elements is a slot made in the concrete construction. This slot was
pre-fashioned as a corner indentation of the concrete c­ olumns dur­
ing casting. The meticulous precision of the brick masonry is still
evident today. The large wooden window frames are divided into
16 sections, each of which has the same proportions as the over­
all window opening. On visiting the building, the architect Pe-
ter Smithson was reminded of the Verseidag factory building and
wrote: “The early buildings in concrete and wood windows (presu-
mably built during the war) … are very very Krefeld.“1

1 Peter Smithson in a letter to Alison Smithson written on 12 Sep.1958, in:


Alison and Peter Smithson, Changing the Art of Inhabitation, London 1994,
p. 9.

Views of the west façade 111


View from the southwest
North elevation 113
Mies’ design of the corners of this building has made it famous:
it is the origin of the characteristic indented “negative corner”,
which can be seen on numerous buildings on the IIT campus. The
detail had already been developed in the design for the neigh-
bouring Perlstein Hall, but it is on this building that it was im­
plemented for the first time. However, before we examine the
corner in detail, let us first examine the concept of the building
as a whole. Originally called the Navy Building, it was conceiv­ed
for the education of marines and contained seminar rooms,
­o ffices and an armoury. In 1947 the building was renam­ed the
Alumni Memorial Hall in honour of the graduates who had fal-
len during the war. 1
The columns of the skeleton frame construction stand on the
grid that orders the entire campus. The floor plan is nine bay
mod­ules long and three bay modules wide and is divided into
three sections, the largest of which is in the centre measuring
5 by 3 bays. This proportion recurs in many buildings of Mies’
American oeuvre and corresponds approximately to the Golden
Section. The two sections at either end have proportions of 2:3.
The central section houses a large two-storey hall with galleries
reminiscent of ship decks. The supporting structure of the roof is
visible from below in the form of beams. In accordance with the
clear floor plan, two symmetrically placed entrances are arranged
opposite open staircases. All other non-loadbearing partitions
are arranged freely in space and can be removed as required.
The building served as a model: together with the neigh­
bouring buildings, a uniform ensemble arose that laid down a
pattern for the design of the later IIT buildings. As with the earl­
ier Minerals and Metals Research Building, the skeleton const-
ruction can be seen on the building’s façade, much in the man-
ner of a traditional half-timbered construction. In the Alumni
Hall, however, one does not see the supporting structure itself
but rather applied elements that express the underlying struc-
ture. This contrasts with the earlier building: while the Alumni
Memorial Hall is also made of steel and employs the same stan-
dardised I-beam profiles, these are encased in a mantle of con-
crete for fire safety reasons.
The steel skeleton framework was first erected on a concrete
slab foundation and then encased in concrete. On the external
skin, the quadratic concrete columns are in turn clad with steel
profiles, creating in its architectonic articulation the impression
of a steel building. Franz Schulze summarises the principle as fol-
lows: “That is to say, the real structure of Alumni Memorial Hall,
though suppressed, is expressed: what one knows is there is not
what one sees, but is made evident by what one sees. Mies’ rea­
soning is tortuous, but ever so much his own.”2
This layering principle is expressed at the corners of the build­
ing. The corner itself is cut out of the building volume. The re-
sult is a vertical channel, an indentation that could be described
as a “negative corner”. From deeper within this cut-out corner –
set back from the front face – a second projecting “positive cor-
ner” made of a steel angle profile can be seen that suggests the
presence of an inner core, hinting at the loadbearing structure
within. This steel-lined indentation does not continue right to the
ground. Instead the bottom courses of masonry form a regular
corner and are covered by a metal plate. There are, of course,
pragmatic reasons for raising the vertical corner element off the
ground – to prevent corrosion, for example – but the hori­zontal
base plate can also be read as a plinth on which to display this
architectonic “still life”. 3 Similar negative corner details were de-
veloped at the time when Mies worked in Peter Behrens’ office
many years earlier. 4
Mies’ estate contains endless sketches concerned with the de-
tailing of this building. The metal elements of the façade, which
had been erected as part of the first step, prior to the concrete
encasement of the loadbearing framework, are expressed in the

North façade
Corner detail
East façade 115
Corridor
116 Detail of door
wall as pilasters. This can be seen as a constructional develop-
ment of the Minerals and Metals Research Building.

Later alterations to the building


In the early 1970s, a floor was inserted in the two-storey hall, en-
tailing the loss of two of the galleries. Walls were added and air
conditioning units inserted into window openings. The building
is now somewhat dilapidated and in need of repair. The renova-
tion measures that have been proposed will, however, impact on
the architectural concept, especially if lifts are to be added to the
open staircases.

The building as seen from the present


It was the declared aim of this building to lay down an architec­
tonic grammar for the IIT buildings that were to follow. In retro­­
spect we can see that a decade later Mies did indeed adhere to the
system he formulated here, varying it here and there only slightly.
The neutral architectural language of the buildings intended to
express universally valid architectural principles rather than high-
lighting the special qualities of the specific functions.
Mies was therefore sceptical of Louis Sullivan’s declaration
that form follows function: “When Sullivan argued that form
should follow function, it was more a reaction to what he saw.
Today, I no longer believe that this can really be a binding prin-
ciple. We know now that our buildings last very much longer and
the functions become obsolete. Functions change so rapidly to-
day that it is a building’s flexibility that gives it lasting value. In
my view, flexibility is actually the important and characteristic ele-
ment of our buildings and not the expression of its function.”5
With respect to the IIT buildings, he remarked: “We had to build
school buildings, and we didn’t often know for what they would
be used. So we had to find a system that made it possible to use
these buildings as classrooms, as workshops, or as laboratories.”6

1 Cf. Phyllis Lambert (ed.), Mies in America, Montreal, New York 2001, ­
pp. 303–313.
2 Franz Schulze, Mies van der Rohe – A Critical Biography, Chicago, Lon-
don 1985, p. 226.
3 Wolfgang Kemp, “Ein Werkbeispiel: Eine Ecke von Mies van der Rohe”,
in: Architektur analysieren – Eine Einführung in acht Kapiteln, Munich 2009,
pp. 65–68.
4 See the corners of the German Embassy in St. Petersburg and of the ent-
rance portal to the Frankfurt Gasworks, in: Carsten Krohn, Peter Behrens.
Architecture, Weimar 2013, p. 100 and p. 128.
5 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with the Bayerischen Rund-
funk, in: Der Architekt, vol. 10, 1966, p. 324 (translation JR).
6 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in: Moisés Puente (ed.), Conversations with
Mies van der Rohe, Barcelona 2006, p. 34.

Alumni Memorial Hall 117


West façade
Staircase 119
Central Vault In contrast to the other IIT buildings that expose their steel and
Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1946 concrete construction, using brick only as an infill material for the
non-loadbearing panels in the structure, this electricity substa-
tion is a soild brick construction. The masonry is constructed as a
sing­le leaf and bears a thin concrete slab that has been fashioned
as a downstand at its edges and presents itself as a deep archi­
trave that rests on the walls. The smaller of the two rooms con-
tained the switching station, the larger the transformers. The out-
door area between this building and the neighbouring Minerals
and Metals Research Building was originally closed off with a wall
that united both buildings into a continuous band.

Floor plan
120 Detail of the north-facing façade
Institute of Gas Technology Building Originally planned as a steel construction with outlying steel mem-
Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1947–50 bers, the building was eventually built using a more economical
concrete construction. The structural framework is exposed on the
external surface of the building while the panels of the skeleton
construction are filled with masonry. The brick panels are capped
with a concrete strip into which the windows are anchored. The
external stair leading to the main entrance is made with natural
stone, a higher-quality and more haptic material than the facing
concrete but of a similar colour so that the use of materials creates
a homogenous impression. The side stair at the rear of the build­
ing is, however, made of concrete.

North façade
Stairs to the entrance 121
Association of American Railroads Research Laboratory Mies designed a group of buildings on the IIT Campus for the As-
Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA,1948–50 sociation of American Railroads that form a part of the IIT com-
plex and continue the architectural language of the preceding IIT
buildings. The first of these buildings was a two-storey research
and administration building which is fitted precisely into the ur-
ban grid. The building adheres to the architectonic principle of the
campus buildings, with one slight variation in its detailed execu-
tion: the corners of the building follow the principle used for the
Alumni Memorial Hall, except that the masonry plinth features in-
dented corners. A music college uses the building today.

Ground floor plan


Corner detail on the exterior
122 Corner detail in the interior
West façade
Altar 125
Mechanics Research Building The building is reduced to just a few elements, and replicates the
Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1950–52 system of the neighbouring Institute of Gas Technology in a sim-
plified form. The articulated plinth has been omitted, as has the
concrete coping above the masonry infill panels. In this building,
the masonry infill is faced with a steel plate that forms the base of
the ribbon windows. The brick bond used for the masonry is also
simplified. The internal arrangement of the building has since been
changed. The building was later extended northwards according
to the original plans but by other architects.

East façade 127


Crown Hall
Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1950–56

Floor plan of the hall


128 Lower floor plan
Main entrance
View from the southwest 129
This building differs from all other buildings on the IIT Campus.
Made of steel and glass, the hall housing the architecture depart-
ment is completely open and radically reduced to its architectur­al
structure conveying a sublime sense of extreme clarity. Measuring
220 by 120 feet (67.01 by 36.58 metres), it also deviates from the
24 by 24 foot grid applied to the rest of the campus. The primary
construction consists of only eight columns spaced at intervals
of 120 by 60 feet (33.50 by 18.29 metres) that support four deep
steel plate girders from which the roof plane is suspended. “For
the architects’ building I went away from the grid”, recounts Mies.
“I think the architects’ building is the most complete and the most
refined building and the most simple building. In the other build­
ings there is more a practical order on a more economical level
and in the architects’ building it is more spiritual order.”1
This “spiritual order” relates directly to the purpose of the
building, as it is here that Mies was to teach. In his inaugural
address as Director of Architecture at Chicago he had already
outlined the aims of his teaching in philosophical terms. An edu-
cation in the building art – a term he preferred to architecture –
must lead us “from irresponsible opinion to responsible insight,”
and to „lead us from chance and arbitrariness to the clear law­
fulness of a spiritual order.”2 This is what the building had to
dem­onstrate. It embodies an attitude that sought to reflect the
authoritative architectural position of the time.
The significance of the building is already evident in the cere­
mony of its approach, which is not unlike that of a sacred build­
ing. One ascends a set of travertine steps to reach a cantilevered
platform that floats like a landing in front of the building. Before
even entering the building one can already see the expanse of
the column-free interior of the hall through the glazed frontage.
The only walls in the interior are placed like freestanding furni-
ture in the space and serve only to define different spatial z­ ones:
student workplaces on each side and an exhibition area in the
middle. This universal space initially also contained an office area
and library. “I lived there and worked there. It was beautiful,”
said Mies. “I like to work in this building. There is never any dis-
turbance in the acoustics, [except] when the professor be­comes
emotional. He should not do that. Otherwise we have no dis­
turbances. We work in groups together.” 3
The uncompromising openness of the hall was only made
possible by the inclusion of a more conventional basement level
reached by stairs that descend to the rooms below. Here the spa-
tial arrangement is more profane with enclosed rooms, doors, ac-
cess corridors and toilets, along with a more conventional choice
of materials, such as concrete block partitioning walls. This floor
is illuminated by ribbon windows of translucent glazing around
its perimeter and originally housed the design department.
This band of sandblasted glass is also continued in the upper
hall. Only the upper section of the glass walls was transparent,
along with the glazing in the entrance area, to give the work-
places a more sheltered character. From within one had views of
the treetops and the sky. Mies had previously experimented with
the effect of translucent glass in his design for a Glass Room in
1927 and recorded that: “Walls of opaque glass give the rooms
a wonderfully mild but bright and even illumination [and] in the
evening [represent] a powerful body of light.” 4
The panes of glass are 10 or 5 feet wide (3.05 or 1.52 met-
res) and match the module of the construction grid and the grid
of metal channels in the terrazzo floor at intervals of 5 by 2 feet
(1.52 by 0.76 metres). The flooring is paved with a combination
of Virginia Black and Tennessee Gray marble. The freestand­
ing partitions are made of Appalachian White Oak treated with
Pratt and Lambert Special Oak Stain, and the steel construction
is painted Mies’ usual matt black using Superior Graphite 30, a
standard product developed by the Detroit Graphite Company
for painting bridges around the world.

East façade
Entrance stairs
130 Hall
Hall
Detail of the stairs Crown Hall 131
With Crown Hall, Mies demonstrated a typological concept
for an open-plan universal space. Mies had built smaller col­
umn-free constructions in the past, for example the sports hall
in Potsdam or the electricity pavilion in Barcelona, but here the
construction is the dominant element. The supporting structure
of Crown Hall with its large steel plate girders arranged above
the roof plane is plainly visible and immediately legible even for
laypeople. In the interior, by contrast, the construction is not
vis­ible. The suspended ceiling even appears to float, especially
when look­ing towards the light. It extends right up to the peri-
meter glazing and appears to do so in a continuous movement.
The tectonic handling of the interior and the exterior is there-
fore quite different. The rhythmic segmentation produced by the
deep I-beams that characterises the building’s exterior appear­
ance is not apparent from within.
The strict symmetrical composition of the building and the
placement of the stairs are reminiscent of Schinkel’s Altes Mu-
seum in Berlin, but the two buildings differ in their articulation
of the central space. In Berlin, the central space is focussed and
converges on a single point crowned by a dome, while the cen-
tral zone of Crown Hall is characterised by a sense of emptiness
that animates one to pass through it. Colin Rowe has written of
this phenomenon that “the flat slab of the roof induces a certain
outward pull; and, for this reason, in spite of the centralizing ac-
tivity of the entrance vestibule, the space still remains, though
in very much simplified form, the rotary, peripheric organisation
of the twenties, rather than the predominantly centralized com-
position of the true Palladian or classical plan.”5
Although Mies originally foresaw the installation of an air
conditioning system, the building was initially only mechanically
ventilated, with the exhaust vents incorporated in the suspended
ceiling. An underfloor heating was installed beneath the terrazzo
floor and solar gain was regulated using blinds. A former stu-
dent, Peter Beltemachi, recalls that “Hilberseimer used to walk
around and adjust them all day long. Hilberseimer and Mies de-
finitely knew about the light control, because when they adjus-
ted the blinds, a lot of it was to get some light up on to the ceil­
ing to get it out onto the tables. We talk about it today, but it
was well known in those days. Light control just by adjusting the
Venetian blinds was part of the original use of the blinds. Hilber-
seimer ran this place with an iron fist. No feet on the furniture.
You couldn‘t play music. You couldn‘t smoke. It was like schools
used to be. People would still wear neckties to class, Hilbersei-
mer, when he died in 1967, that’s when the Venetian blind busi-
ness went to hell.”6 The next phase of renovations will include the
installation of a computerised system for regulating the blinds.

Later alterations to the building


During renovation works undertaken by Skidmore, Owings and
Merrill in the 1970s, the wall panels in the hall were rearranged
and the glazing renewed. Later changes to the building codes re-
quired the installation of thicker glass panes and an air condition­
ing system was installed requiring changes to the roof. Towards
the end of the 1980s the Institute of Design vacated the lower
floor, and conversion works were undertaken to make the entire
build­ing usable for the architecture school. The most extensive
renova­tion works were undertaken in 2005 by the architecture of-
fice Krueck and Sexton Architects in conjunction with the conser-
vation expert Gunny Harboe. As part of these works, the func-
tionality of the vents at the base of the panels of the perimeter
glazing was restored.7

The building as seen from the present


Crown Hall is still used for the function for which it was originally
intended. The maximum flexibility afforded by the interior has pro-
ven its worth, accommodating a variety of different uses, including

Hall
Lower floor
132 Toilets
an exhibition of Picasso’s works and concert by Duke Ellington
and his orchestra. But what was Mies alluding to when he said the
building expressed “the clear lawfulness of a spiritual order”? For
Mies, this refers to Saint Augustine’s declaration that “there is no
ordered thing which is not beautiful”, a sentence that he had un-
derlined in his own copy.8 Saint Augustine differentiated between
those qualities that can be perceived with the senses and the over­
arching immutable laws such as symmetry, number and unit. He
wrote: “We must indeed inquire what is the cause of our being dis-
satisfied if two windows are placed not one above the other but
side by side, and one of them is greater or less than the other, for
they ought to have been equal; while if they are placed one di-
rectly above the other, even though they are unlike, the inequality
does not offend us in the same way. […] Thus if I ask an architect
why, having constructed one arch, he builds another equal to it on
the other side, he will reply, I believe, that it is in order that equal
parts of a building may correspond to equal parts.”9
In contrast to the other IIT buildings, the architectonic const-
ruction of Crown Hall is not the product of a schedule of re­quired
spaces. The individual elements are joined together solely as a
product of the logic and order of the building itself. Mies belie-
ved in the continuity of this order, citing that “Order m ­ eans – ac-
cording to St. Augustine – ‘the disposition of equal and unequal
things, attributing to each its place.’ ”10

1 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Graeme Shankland, in:
The Listener, 15 Oct. 1959, p. 620.
2 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, Inaugural address as Director of Architecture,
1938, in: Fritz Neumeyer, The Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the
Building Art, Cambridge, Mass. 1991, p. 316.
3 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Henry Thomas Cadbury-
Brown in: Architectural Association Journal, July/Aug. 1959, p. 38.
4 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in: Das Kunstblatt, no. 3, 1930, pp. 111–113.
English language translation in Fritz Neumeyer, The Artless Word – Mies
van der Rohe on the Building Art, Cambridge, Mass. 1991, p. 305.
5 Colin Rowe, “Neo-‘Classicism’ and Modern Architecture II” (written in
1956–57 but first published in 1973), in: The Mathematics of the Ideal Villa
and Other Essays, Cambridge, Mass. 1987, p. 149.
6 Peter Beltemachi in: lynnbecker.com/repeat/mies/crowndeclinerebirth.htm
7 Cf. Elizabeth Olson, “S.R. Crown Hall” in: docomomo-us.org/register/
fiche/sr_crown_hall
8 Cf. Fritz Neumeyer, The Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the
Building Art, Cambridge, Mass. 1991, p. 317. (St. Augustine: “For there is
no ordered thing which is not beautiful”, De vera religione, XLI 77.)
9 St. Augustine, De vera religione (On the True Religion), XXX 54–55 and
XXXII 59.
10 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, “Introduction” in: Ludwig Hilberseimer, The
New City, Chicago 1944. Reproduced in: Fritz Neumeyer, The Artless Word –
Mies van der Rohe on the Building Art, Cambridge, Mass. 1991, p. 323.

Detail Crown Hall 133


Bailey Hall
Bailey Hall and Cunningham Hall 135
Electrical Engineering and Physics Building Constructed out of reinforced concrete, the building was designed
Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA, 1954–56 for the Institute of Gas Technology. The open panels in the skele-
ton frame construction have a masonry infill laid in stretcher bond.
This brick bond, which is one brick thick, emphasises the non-load­
bearing character of the infill panel, which is arranged flush with
the outer face of the loadbearing structure. A shadow line marks
the division between the loadbearing and the non-load­bearing
elements. The building has no façade in the sense of an applied
front­age, and a front or back has not been articulated: the structure
is made visible in the same way on all sides of the building. The
building stands exactly within the urban grid, with a width of three
modules and a length of nine. The articula­tion of the structur­al
framework as a visible net of lines can be seen as a diagram that
not only describes the internal structure of the build­ing but also
the structure of the overall constellation of the surroundings. Un-
til the end of the 1970s, the building contained the first industrial
nuclear reactor. The building has since been extended and most
of the larger glazing panels have been re­placed with small panes.

Façade
138 Corner of the building
Association of American Railroads Engineering Laboratory The large hall echoes that of the neighbouring Mechanical Labora­
Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago, USA 1955–57 tory, except that this building is one bay wider, making it exactly
twice as long as it is wide. Here too, the hall is an exposed steel
construction with an entrance large enough to accommodate rail-
ways wagons, and here too a small building has been built along-
side it. The positions of the two halls with respect to one another
are a product of the routing of the railway track. The extensive
glaz­ing lies in the same plane as the wall, lending the building an
abstract, almost block-like appearance. The clarity of the building’s
original volume has since been compromised by the addition of
an extension on the north side. The building is used today by the
Chicago Transit Authority.

Ground floor plan


View from the campus
Entrance 139
South façade
Corner of the building 141
Farnsworth House The building stands on a park-like site directly adjoining a river,
Plano, Illinois, USA, 1945–51 ­situated in a rural location in the midst of a hilly and wooded land-
scape. Even from a distance, the house exudes an air of crystal-
line clarity and purity. Mies designed it as a weekend house for a
female doctor. Although a location on higher ground further away
from the river was also possible, Mies explained: “We discussed
the advantages and disadvantages of both places and I propo-
sed to Dr. Farnsworth to build close to the river where there were
beautiful old trees. She was afraid that the river would go over the
bank, but I still stuck to this place because I thought that [the pro-
blems could] be overcome in one way or the other.”1
Mies attempted to obtain official records of historical high
water levels but was informed that these did not exist and that
he should ask old settlers in the region. Mies’ response was to
conceive of a building on the floodplain, raised off the ground
on stilts so that the floor level was above the highest known high
water level. Describing its structure, he explained that, “the floor
and roof is not directly supported but is suspended,” adding that
he viewed this as ”a normal way of doing it under the circum-
stances.”2 Later he would emphasise that he told the client he
would only take on the project under the condition of having free
hand in its design. “She asked me if I had ideas about it and af-
ter looking around in the different directions for the views pos-
sible I said: ‘If I would be to build here for myself I think I would
build in glass because all the views are so beautiful that it is hard
to decide which view should be preferred.’” 3
The house was positioned just north of a mature maple tree
so that the tree shades the house from the midday sun in summer­.
Despite the façades being open in all directions, the views are
care­­­fully framed. The painted white steel construction acts like
the passe-partout of a picture frame. “I was in the house from
morning to evening. I did not know how colourful nature real­ly
was. But you have to be careful in the inside to use neu­tral co-
lours, because you have the colours outside. These absolutely
change.” 4 Mies chose Roman travertine paving for the floor,
pure silk shantung for the curtains and a light-coloured prima-
vera ­veneer for cladding the inner core and its ancillary spaces.
The freestanding inner core is conceived as a piece of furni­
ture placed in the space with walls that do not extend to the
ceil­ing. The doors mimic the appearance of the cupboard doors
so that there is no visible indication of the bathrooms contain­ed
within.
The construction of the building is designed to look excep-
tionally simple. The structure appears to consist of just two ele-
ments: vertical wide-flange I-beams inserted as columns di-
rectly into the ground and horizontal planes suspended between
them. Although the roof and floor slabs are individual compo-
site constructions made of several different elements, they pre-
sent themselves as a single homogenous slab. The complexities
of the technical installations are hidden away. The roof slab di-
rects water to a downpipe that passes through the centre of the
building, and the floor slab contains coils for underfloor heating.
The m ­ eans of connection between the loadbearing elements are
likewise concealed.
A U-shaped structural channel runs around the perimeter of
the floor and roof slabs and is plug-welded to the vertical col­
umns. The window frames, made of an assembly of precision-cut
rectangular steel bar elements, are likewise invisibly plug-weld­
­ed to the structural channels and vertical supports. The corner
­profiles of the window glazing are fillet-welded, while the weld
seam itself is covered by end pieces or else laboriously sanded
off. The only outwardly visible indications of mountings are the
screws in the glazing stops for installing and fixing the panes of
glass. From an engineering perspective, this is not a particularly
corrosion-resistant construction, requiring considerable mainten­
ance to protect against corrosion. Less than half the material

142 Floor plan


Exterior views 143
Interior
144 Kitchen
Veranda
View of the river Farnsw o rth Ho u se 145
View of the entrance Farnswo rt h Ho u se 147
East façade 149
The building as seen from the present
Even as the building was still being completed, Mies was already
working with the same client, Herbert Greenwald, on another pro-
ject for two glass-clad high-rise buildings on Lake Shore Drive. In
direct comparison, the Promontory Apartments seem much more
conventional. Publications from the time initially showed only pho-
tos of the lakeside elevation, which make it look like a freestand­
ing slab building. Even though steel was to become Mies’ pre­
ferred building material, this building was nevertheless crucial for
the later development of his work. The device of successively step-
ping back an exposed concrete construction towards the top of
the building is used frequently in his later buildings.
A further pioneering aspect of the building was the housing
cooperative model: “In a ‘co-op,’ apartments are offered as sha-
res in a cooperation that owns and operates the building. Tech-
nically, the shareholder leases a unit from the building coopera-
tion.”2 The architect, construction firm and the investor all gained
valuable knowledge in high-rise construction from undertaking
this project, and this building marked the beginning of further
cooperation to come.

1 Cf. Anthony P. Amarose, Pao-Chi Chang and Alfred Swenson, “National


Register of Historic Places Registration Form: Promontory Apartments”,
historic monument report, Chicago 1996, p. 4: “Another change involved
the remodeling of the ground floor by creating two mail rooms, one on
each side, by taking space from the original bicycle rooms, and converting
the north bicycle room into a receiving room. The existing mailboxes in the
entrance vestibules would be relocated to the mail rooms. These changes
to the lobby were executed circa 1965, largely as shown on the Mies draw­
ing.” (gis.hpa.state.il.us/pdfs/201012.pdf)
2 Franz Schulze and Edward Windhorst, Mies van der Rohe: A Critical
Biography, Chicago, London 2012, p. 279.

View from within looking east


Detail of the façade
150 Glazing detail
Corner detail Pr o m o n tory A part ment s 151
Algonquin Apartments The six towers of the Algonquin Apartments are the evolution of
Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1948–50 an initial plan by Mies. His original design was, however, never
executed.1 Together with the architecture firm Pace Associates,
Mies’ office developed a set of freestanding towers based on a
concrete frame relying on the same technique used for the Prom­
ontory Apartments nearby. Here too the columns are set back
every few storeys so that the structural framework appears to
grow progressively more slender towards the top. However, ­after
the project developer Herbert Greenwald and Mies began to con-
centrate on another site on Lake Shore Drive, Charles Genther,
a pupil of Mies’, assumed a leading role in the planning of the
­Algonquin project with his office Pace Associates. A site plan that
shows the six towers eventually built lists both Pace and Mies as
the authors of the project.

1 A history of the development of the plan is given in: Franz Schulze (ed.),
The Mies van der Rohe Archive, vol. 14, New York, London 1992, p. 8,
and: Franz Schulze and Edward Windhorst, Mies van der Rohe: A Critical
Biography, Chicago 2012, pp. 383–385.

Site plan
152 View from the northwest
Arts Club of Chicago The project is a conversion of an existing building.1 For Mies, this
Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1948–51 was a rare situation, but as a member of the club he offered his
services free of charge. He created a glazed lobby with a white-
paint­ed steel stair that stands freely like a sculpture in the space.
The treads, carpeted in black, lead to the gallery spaces above.
Mies designed this lobby in the utmost detail, also selecting the
furniture. In the mid-1990s, however, the building was demolish­ed,
although the stair itself was able to be saved and was subsequently
re-installed in another building. The sculptural object was, how­
ever, originally conceived as part of a sequence of spaces designed
by Mies. As with the McCormick House, only the steel con­struction
of the original substance was transferred to a new location and
what remains is a fragment in a changed context.

1 Cf. Franz Schulze (ed.), The Mies van der Rohe Archive, vol. 14, New
York, London 1992, p. 224–225.

Stairs 153
860–880 Lake Shore Drive
Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1948–51

Ground floor plan


154 Upper floor plan
View from the northeast 155
The glazed towers on the shores of Lake Michigan give the im-
pression of having been stripped in an act of radical minimalism of
all that is unnecessary to leave just the shell of the towers stand­
ing. All one sees of their architecture is the skeleton framework of
their structure. The coalescence of architecture and construction
makes it possible to glaze the entire frontage of the two towers,
providing the best possible illumination of the rooms within and
affording their inhabitants the best possible views. This drive for
maximum efficiency can also be seen in the use of an especially
economical construction method for the extremely expensive plot.
With the building of the towers Mies realised a vision that
he first formulated in the early 1920s in his first published text:
“Only skyscrapers under construction reveal the bold constructive
thoughts, and then the impression of the high-reaching steel skel­
etons is overpowering. With the raising of the walls, this impres-
sion is completely destroyed; the constructive thought, the ne-
cessary basis for artistic form-giving is annihilated. […] The novel
constructive principle of these buildings comes clearly into view if
one employs glass for the no longer load-bearing exterior walls.” 1
The apartments in the towers were originally conceived as
being fully open with the bathroom as the only enclosed room.
However, the floor plans that were actually built were for apart-
ments with several rooms: eight small apartments per floor in the
northern tower and four larger apartments per floor in the south­
ern tower. A zone of service rooms was arranged around the fixed
access core, allowing the division of the living rooms to be v­ aried
with lightweight partitioning walls as required. The larger apart-
ments even had a second tradesmen’s entrance. “We use the
principle of flexibility“, described Mies. “We cannot help but fix
the bathrooms and the kitchens in one place, but otherwise it is
quite flexible, we can take the walls out or put more walls in.”2
The possibility of alteration is therefore built in.
The two towers are identical volumes placed at 90° to each
other. Each of them is raised off the ground and the two are con-
nected at ground level. The two towers are placed on a travertine
plateau so that they are perceived as a single entity, despite the
fact that their appearance changes with the direction of view. As
one moves around the ensemble, the constellation changes with
each step: at one point one sees two slender towers, from an­other
direction the two façades blend to form a continuous texture.
The vertical wide-flange I-beam profiles attached to the exter­
ior of the façade are important elements because they cast sha-
dows, lending the towers a sense of relief and delineation. This
effect is heightened as the position of the sun changes. Much like
the lesenes of a medieval church, the applied steel profiles struc-
ture the walls. As an expression of the verticality of the load dis-
sipation, they also serve a tectonic function. Seen from the side,
the “blinker quality”3 of the row of I-beams makes the wall seem
monolithic, emphasising the abstract physical quality of the rect­
angular blocks. At the same time the towers look lightweight. For
Mies, a pure glass building has the character of a sailing boat.4
The structural frame of the Lake Shore Drive Apartments had
to conform to the standards of the high-rise city of Chicago and
the building rests on timber pile foundations. Mies had already
used a reinforced steel framework for his Promontory Apartments
project, although there the buildings were not totally enclosed by
glass. In his eyes, it was “nonsense”5 to wrap a reinforced con-
crete construction in a mantle, but fire safety requirements stipu-
lated that multi-storey steel buildings must have a fire-retardant
sheathing. For this reason the steel members of the structure had
to be encased in a concrete mantle. The architectonic challenge
was to detail the skin of the building in such a way that it com-
municated the filigree character of a steel building. Mies chose to
sheath the concrete mantle with a steel covering and to then apply
I-beam girders to the exterior. This ordinary steel profile acquires
an ornamental quality when used as a decorative vertical element.

View from the southeast


156 Views of the outdoor areas
860 Lake Shore Drive
View from within looking north 860- 880 Lake Sh o re Dri ve 157
“But we are not decorating. This is structure,” Mies is quick
to remind us: “Now, first, I am going to tell you the real reason,
and then I am going to tell you a good reason by itself. It was very
important to preserve and extend the rhythm which the mullion
set up on the rest of the building. We looked at it on the model
without the steel section attached to the corner column and it
did not look right. Now, the other reason is that this steel section
was needed to stiffen the plate which covers the corner column
so this plate would not ripple, and also we needed it for strength
when the sections were hoisted into place. Now, of course, that’s
a very good reason, but the other reason is the real reason.”6

Later alterations to the building


Because the buildings were experimental prototypes, the con­
structions were not technically mature. The upper pane of the alu-
minium windows could be opened to allow the residents to clean
the windows. However, this mechanism proved problematic, be-
cause not only did the tower sway markedly in bad weather, but it
also rained into the building.7 In the 1970s, the upper panes were
then successfully fixed closed. Mies had proposed an air-condition­
ing and cooling system but this was not installed for cost reasons,
resulting in significant climatic problems. The residents began to
install their own small air-conditioning units, but these have since
been replaced by a central air-conditioning system. The towers
were comprehensively renovated in 2009, and the floor paving
and glass panes at ground levels were renewed.

The building as seen from the present


This work of architecture has been enormously influential. The im-
pact of these buildings has changed – and continues to change
– the face of cities around the world. For the investor, Herbert
Greenwald, the project was a great success and he began to ap-
ply this model to other sites and locations. It was not long before
Greenwald’s projects accounted for two thirds of the work under-
taken at Mies’ office. But compared with the numerous imitations
by other architects, and even with Mies’ own later developments,
these two towers have a particular poetry about them. The win-
dows are not all of the same size and as the structure of the skel­
eton frame is visible on the exterior, the facades have a rhythmic
appearance of wider and narrower openings.
In contrast to high-rise buildings that stand directly on the
ground or have been placed atop a lower block, the transition
between the ground plane and the building has been articulated
very carefully. A unique spatial situation has been created with a
recessed walkway at ground level that provides sudden views into
the distance. This is a space of its own that is especially made to
be experienced on foot. This dynamic succession of spaces con-
trasts with the seemingly pure rationalism of the towers.

1 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in: Frühlicht, no. 4, 1922, pp. 122–124. English
translation in Fritz Neumeyer, The Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the
Building Art, Cambridge, Mass. 1991, p. 240.
2 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Graeme Shankland in: The
Listener, 15 Oct. 1959, p. 621.
3 This expression was used by Peter Carter in: Bauen + Wohnen, July 1961,
p. 240. (in: Architectural Design, March 1961).
4 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in a letter dated 2 July 1928, in: Fritz
Neumeyer, The Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the Building Art,
Cambridge, Mass. 1991, p. 305.
5 Ibid., p. 247.
6 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe cited in: Architectural Forum, Nov. 1952,
pp. 94–99.
7 Cf. Franz Schulze and Edward Windhorst, Mies van der Rohe: A Critical
Biography, Chicago, London 2012, p. 293.

158 860 – 8 8 0 L ake S h o re Dr ive


McCormick House Robert McCormick, one of the project developers of the Lake
Elmhurst, Illinois, USA, 1951–52 Shore Drive Apartments, commissioned Mies to build one storey
of the towers at ground level for use as a private residence.1
The prefabricated frame construction was delivered by lorry and
erect­ed in two days. Although the floor plan deviates from that of
the apartments in Chicago, the detailing of the façades is more or
less identical. Visitors enter the building beneath a covered ent-
rance area and find themselves immediately in the living and din­
ing room, through which one reaches the study. The second part
of the build­ing contains the kitchen and children’s room. The build­
ing, which McCormick used as a weekend house, was dismantled
in 1994 and reerected in the grounds of the neigh­bouring Elmhurst
Art Museum. While the steel construction was transferred intact,
the building was originally conceived in conjunction with a park-
like garden designed by the landscape architect Alfred Caldwell,
and this connection no longer exists. The interior fittings were like-
wise lost during the dismantling of the building.

1 For a detailed history of the building see: Mies van der Rohe – Houses, 2G,
no. 48/49, 2008–09, pp. 198–205, and: Franz Schulze and Edward Windhorst,
Mies van der Rohe: A Critical Biography, Chicago, London 2012, p. 301.

Floor plan
Exterior views 159
Greenwald House The house is based on the same principle as the McCormick
Weston, Connecticut, USA, 1951–56 House, placing a single-storey of the Lake Shore Drive Apartments
at ground level into the landscape. In fact, the house’s façade is
made of actual unused elements of the high-rise building’s façade.
The entrance leads directly into the central living room, which is
flanked on either side by two wood-panelled service cores. Next
to the entrance is a freestanding storage cabinet that serves as a
divider screening off the bedroom. A second entrance leads di-
rectly into the kitchen. A low wall of rough-hewn stone creates a
step in the terrain allowing the surrounding woodland to be appre-
ciated from a podium. The house, built for the brother of Herbert
Greenwald, Mies’ most important client at the time, was extended
in 1959–60 by two bays according to plans by Mies’ office. Later,
a further extension and pavilions were added that are grouped
around the building.1 The interior was also subsequently altered.

1 For further information on the alterations and additions, see: Paul Gold­
berger, “Modifying Mies – Peter L. Gluck Rises to the Modernist’s Challenge”,
in: Architectural Digest, vol. 2, 1992, pp. 72–82.

Exterior view
Interior
160 Floor plan
Commonwealth Promenade Apartments Of the four towers originally planned, only the southern pair was
Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1953–57 completed. A covered walkway connects the towers with one an­
other and extends out into the neighbouring Lincoln Park. The
detailing of the aluminium curtain walling is identical to that of
the Esplanade Apartments constructed at the same time. Pivoting
sections in the lower part of the window provide ventilation and
incorporate a fly screen in the plane of the glazing. Compared­
with the buildings on 860–880 Lake Shore Drive, the concrete
con­struction used here made it possible to incorporate an ­extra
storey within the same overall building height. In contrast to the
standard I-beam sections applied to the exterior of the Lake Shore
Drive Apartments, the aluminium profiles used here were develop­
­ed ­especially for the curtain wall façade. The more pronounced
thermal expansion of aluminium, however, made it necessary to
include expansion joints that interrupt the continuity of the vertic­
­al lines at each storey.
For Reyner Banham the use of a more lightweight material
represented a technical advancement: “It is a material, where a
large order implies the ability to name your sections […] a choice
of section is as natural in aluminium as is the absence of choice
in steel, where the economics of rolling-mill manufacture still
make fancy sections pretty well impossible.”1 As a propon­ent
of actively employing technical advancements in architecture,
Banham regarded the possibilities of detailing with aluminium
as “far more elaborate”.

1 Reyner Banham, “Almost Nothing is Too Much”, in: Architectural Review,


Aug. 1962, p. 128.

Site plan
South façade
Window detail 161
Esplanade Apartments The two apartment buildings at 900–910 Lake Shore Drive contin­ue
Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1953–57 Mies’ series of lakeside buildings. On a site immediately north of
the existing towers at 860–880 Lake Shore Drive, Mies planned
two further high-rise buildings that adhere to the same urban con-
cept: the buildings are placed as freestanding elements in space
and do not align with the massing of the historical urban grain of
the city. While the Esplanade apartment buildings also stand on
a trapezoidal site, the two buildings are not identical in size. The
southernmost of the two buildings is shaped like a monumental
slab and the two buildings are placed closer to each other than
their counterparts at 860–880. Mies’ client, Herbert Greenwald,
paid the highest amount ever paid at that time for a site for resi-
dential use in Chicago.1
The consequent need to make optimal use of the site was
achieved by significantly increasing the size of the building vol­
umes and by reducing the storey height. A new design for the ceil­
ing construction made it possible to reduce the structural height
of the ceilings. This made it possible to incorporate three addi-
tional storeys and at the same time to slightly reduce the overall
height of the building. Although the fundamental concept of the
buildings – that of fully glazed rectangular prisms – is identical to
that of their predecessors, technical advances in the few years bet-
ween the buildings’ construction meant that the construction and
the materials used changed. While the buildings at 860–880 were
prototypes, the Esplanade Apartments are optimised both tech-
nologically as well as economically.
The problems revealed by the prototypes were tackled in the
second pair of buildings not only by making modifications in de-
tail but also through the choice of a different material. The struc-
tural frame is again completely fronted by a glazed skin, but this
time the façade is made of anodized aluminium mounted on a con-
crete frame. The façade itself is articulated as a curtain wall con-
struction, this time with continuous, equally-sized large windows.
To resolve the overheating experienced in the earlier buildings,
tinted panes and air-conditioning were installed.
While the construction was previously left exposed on the fa-
çade, the reinforced concrete columns are now set back from the
edge of the building to provide a cavity between the columns and
the external skin for air-conditioning. The dark grey tint of the glaz­
ing heightens the impression of the curtain wall as an indepen-
dent element and emphasises the volumetric sculptural quality of
the building. For the characteristic vertical mullions applied to the
out­er face of the façade, a custom extrusion made of a ­ luminium
was now used instead of the continuous lines of steel I-beams used
at 860–880, which were made of two standard T-profiles welded
together. Because aluminium is more susceptible to thermal ex-
pansion than steel, the mullions are separated by small gaps at
each storey to accommodate thermal expansion.
A low-lying building was constructed to house a car park with a
flat roof that served as a communal sun deck. This however, com-
promises the expansive sense of space at ground level that charac-
terises the earlier buildings as well as the transition from outdoors
to indoors, achieved in the earlier building by using continuous uni-
form travertine paving. The entrance lobby is instead paved with
terrazzo flooring while the inner core is clad with marble. The glaz­
ing at ground floor level is partially transparent and partially trans-
lucent, transforming the walls into illuminated objects at night. Un-
like the buildings at 860–880, lamella can be seen beneath the first
floor ceiling that serve as vents for the air-conditioning.

Later alterations to the building


After the transfer of the apartments into private ownership at the
end of the 1970s, many residents made alterations to their apart-
ments, some combining several units into one. The building’s de-
sign was, however, conceived to accommodate this kind of flexi-
bility. Since then, the building has been extensively renovated.

162 Site plan


860–880 Lake Shore Drive and Esplanade Apartments 163
View from the northeast
164 Walkway between the buildings
The building as seen from the present
The concept of curtain wall construction as an independent layer
hung in front of the loadbearing structure was not only pioneering
for Mies’ own work but has shaped the construction of high-rise
buildings to the present day. Likewise, the experimental use of alu-
minium as a building material has also become common practice,
especially for the façades of high-rise buildings.
Although the Esplanade Apartments lack some of the concep-
tual clarity and heroic spirit of the towers at 860–880, and are con-
sequently not as famous architecturally as their predecessors, the
apartments they contain are more expensive. Despite lacking the
minimalist clarity of the earlier buildings, the apartments still en-
joy spectacular panoramic views over Lake Michigan and are ap-
pointed to a higher technical standard, including better lifts. As
such, the apartments have lost none of their original attraction.

1 This was not, however, the only record it broke: “Esplanade was the tall­
est concrete building yet constructed in Chicago, and the first with a flat-
slab concrete frame. It boasted the city’s first central air-conditioning
for a residential tower; one of the first unitized, anodized aluminium cur-
tain walls; and Chicago’s first large-scale use of tinted, heat-absorbing
glass.” Franz Schulze and Edward Windhorst, Mies van der Rohe: A Critical
Biography, Chicago 2012, p. 294.

Exterior view E splanad e A part ment s 165


View from the southwest 167
The slender office tower has a monumental presence on New York’s
prestigious Park Avenue. Although the pristine prismatic volume of
the building is enveloped by a grid of identical windows, the build­
ing exhibits a tripartite structure in the classical manner: a base
zone is formed by raising the building off the ground on columns
and creating a glazed entrance lobby, and the shaft of the building
is crowned by an opaque section housing the technical services.
The office tower is set back from the street by about 30 me-
tres to form an urban plaza, creating a rare open space in the
densely built urban fabric of midtown New York. While most
build­ings in Manhattan typically fill the entire block creating a
contin­uous line of frontages along the street, the setting back of
the tower makes it appear like a solitary object when approached
from the plaza. Although the building is also stepped and adhe-
res to the block pattern, it presents itself as a freestanding ob-
ject. On the reverse side, it steps back and aligns with the New
York pattern of streets and blocks, which even landmarks in the
skyline such as the Empire State Building or the Chrysler Build­
ing were obliged to do.
The plaza is so vital to the project that Mies saw it endanger­ed
when the client briefly considered placing a bank building on the
plaza.1 Paved with granite slabs, containing two shallow pools
and flanked by marble bench-like blocks, the plaza represents an
essential part of the architecture, functioning as a podium that
visitors must cross before they pass through the columns of the
entrance lobby. Raised a few steps above the street, the plaza
forms a plinth akin to that of a Greek temple and denotes a space
set apart from the hustle and bustle of the sidewalk.
While the loadbearing structure of the building is steel, the
hung curtain wall façade is made of bronze. The bronze tint of
the glazing lends the skin of the building a sense of unity. The
building employs the same principle of externally applied verti-
cal I-beam mullions that Mies used in his Chicago high-rise build­
ings, however here the mullion profiles as well as the glazing
have been custom-fabricated. The wide-flange H-shaped form
of the profiles was arrived at through innumerable tests because
of what Mies described as its precise interplay of “umbra and
penumbra”.2 The delicate relief they lend to the smooth skin of
the building causes its appearance to shift as the light changes.
The use of especially high-quality materials in the building
defines its character. Before visitors even ascend the steps to
the plaza, they come into contact with the green marble blocks.
When asked for his opinion, the client expressed a particular
lik­ing for bronze, and in practice this infrequently used alloy of
copper and zinc does indeed have advantages over steel and
aluminium. Bronze is corrosion-resistant and less susceptible to
thermal expansion than aluminium. The bronze façade echoes
the underlying structural skeleton and in some sections the pa-
nels between the profiles have been filled with panels of green
marble rather than panes of glass.
The floor plan is based on a 1.41 metre module and is the
product of a combination of ideal office sizes as well as the New
York planning laws which stipulated that a tower may occupy a
maximum of 25 percent of the floor area of the site. Mies re-
calls that “since it was to be the first major office building which
I was to build, I asked for two types of advice for the develop-
ment of the plans. One, the best real estate advice as to the ty-
pes of desirable rental space and, two, professional advice re-
garding the New York City Building Code.”3
To execute the building, Mies entered into a cooperation
with Philip Johnson, about whom Phyllis Lambert, the director
of ­p lanning, wrote: “Knowing that Mies’ primary concern was
the articulation of structure, form, and material, Philip quickly
grasp­ed that Seagram presented an unusual opportunity to im-
prove on many of the standard industrial design elements used
in office buildings: doors, elevator cabs, hardware, lighting,

Views across the plaza


168 Corner detail
View from the northeast
Entrance lobby S eagram B u i l ding 169
plumbing fixtures, and room partitions, as well as lettering and
signage […] eventually expanding to include the design of entire
office floors, lighting strategies for the whole building. […] Philip
used power­ful theatrical effects.” 4 He designed the interiors such
as The Four Seasons restaurant and, together with the lighting
­planner Richard Kelly, the design of the continuous illuminated
ceilings that at night turned the building into a luminous object.

Later alterations to the building


The complex has remained largely unchanged to the present day.
The planting of weeping willows on the plaza did not survive and
was soon replaced by gingko trees. Conversions works were only
undertaken in some of the interiors. In 2000, the architects Diller,
Scofidio + Renfro designed a restaurant in the building.

The building as seen from the present


Although the building no longer stands as conspicuously as it once
did now that the lower-rise buildings in the surroundings have been
succeeded by similarly high and abstract towers, the build­ing has
lost none of its monumentality. As Mies was design­ing the build­
ing, he had just completed the vast Convention Hall in Chicago
which he described as his first building of “really m
­ onumental qual­
ity”.5 Mies’ buildings – like those of Peter Behrens – consistently
displayed an immanent sense of monumentality, but Mies was re-
ferring here to sheer size: “But, in fact, there is a certain size that
is a reality. Take the pyramids in Egypt and make them only 15
feet high. It is nothing. There is just this enormous size that ma-
kes all the difference.”6
“As pleasant as the Seagram Building is,” remarked Philip
Johnson in 1978, “it’s still a flat-topped glass box, and that we
got a little bit bored with.”7 In retrospect, however, the timeless
quality of this building has become ever more apparent, espe-
cially in comparison to buildings built over the last few decades.
A particular quality of the Seagram Building is the many different
ways in which it reduces its vast scale to that of the pedestrian.
In contrast to the many high-rise tower blocks built since then
that offer nothing of benefit to the passer-by, this project crea-
ted an urban space that continues to be used by the citizens of
New York on a daily basis.

1 Phyllis Lambert, Building Seagram, New Haven, London 2013, p. 71.


Phyllis Lambert, daughter of the client Samuel Bronfman, had proposed
Mies as the architect and oversaw the project as director of planning.
2 Lambert 2013, p. 62.
3 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Cameron Alread and
others on 11 May 1960, cited in: Lambert 2013, p. 46.
4 Lambert 2013, pp. 122–123.
5 Ludwig Mies in conversation with Katharine Kuh, in: The Saturday Review,
23 Jan. 1965, p. 22.
6 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in: Moisés Puente (ed.), Conversations with
Mies van der Rohe, Barcelona 2006, p. 81.
7 Philip Johnson in conversation with Barbaralee Diamonstein-Spielvogel
(library.duke.edu/digitalcollections/dsva)

Façade details
170 Detail of the lift
View from the southwest Seagram B u i l di ng 171
Lafayette Park
Detroit, Michigan, USA, 1955–58

172 Ground floor plan


The residential project lies on a green, landscaped site just a short
distance on foot from the centre of Detroit. The apartments open
onto a communal outdoor area that transitions into a public park.
Although all the buildings are identical in appearance, the project
consists of three different building types: a single-storey court­yard
building, two-storey terraced units and high-rise apartment blocks
of which initially just one was realised. The fully glaz­ed frontages
of the terraced houses open not onto private gardens but look
out over the collective green areas.
The project replaced a low-income neighbourhood that was
considered a slum with a correspondingly high crime rate.1 The
total demolition of an entire neighbourhood made it possible
to create a new building arrangement that aimed to retain the
middle class in the city centre. Much like a collage, this model
settlement was implanted into the old fabric of the city. Along-
side Mies, who was responsible for the architecture, Ludwig Hil-
berseimer and Alfred Caldwell were commissioned as urban
­planner and landscape architect respectively.
The design of the landscape is a key aspect of the overall
concept. The trees, which are now mature, have grown to form
a wood and only now provide the much-needed shade to make
the fully glazed buildings tolerable climatically. American honey
locust trees were planted, which have very small leaves that do
not fully shade the ground but produce a dappled light. They
provide a natural canopy, their crowns covering the complex and
screening the lower buildings from the high-rise apartments. A
second level of vegetation, including colourful flowering trees
and shrubs such as crab apple and various species of lilac, per-
meates the rest of the site. Cockspur hawthorn hedges augment
the overall composition, dividing the open areas into zones and
shielding the interiors from view.
The urban concept can only be described as a clean-sweep
solution: after the site and all the buildings on it had been clear­ed
and the project developer Herbert Greenwald had commissioned
his team of architects with the design, Hilberseimer also called
for the existing network of streets to be overridden, replacing
them with a system of closed-off access roads to create a park
in the centre in which a school was located. The intention was to
provide pedestrian access to the school without having to cross
any roads. Hilberseimer conceived of a mix of buildings in order
to create an extensive urban landscape with the high-rise apart-
ment blocks placed far apart from one another. In a somewhat
technocratic manner, he called for a “ruralisation of the city” and
an “urbanisation of the country”:
“If the active forces now concentrated in large cities could
be more evenly distributed, activity would be spread through
all the country. City and country, coming closer to each other,
would influence each other to their mutual benefit, materially
and spiritually. Healthy conditions would be restored every-
where. What is pleasant in city life could be combined with the
pleasantness of country life. The disadvantages of each way of
life would disappear.” 2
Although Hilberseimer oriented the buildings to maximise
their solar exposure, Mies refined their arrangement, ordering
them in a rhythmic structure. The approach he used to define
space is similar in concept to that of the IIT Campus. In contrast
to the serial repetition of identical elements, he placed clear rect­
angular volumes in a rigorous orthogonal arrangement to create
a dynamic succession of spaces. The four rows of the courtyard
houses enclosed by walls are arranged offset from the 17 terra-
ced rows of housing to maximize their view of the natural sur-
roundings. Even the car parking at the end of the closed-off roads
was sunk by a metre to remove them from view.
In the low-rise buildings, a visual axis always leads straight
from the entrance door right through the building. The living
areas are screened by hedges, walls and in the case of the

173
courtyard houses through the creation of a raised plateau. Steps
lead up to the entrances of these houses. The row houses mean­
while have a cellar with continuous service corridors that also pro-
vide access to the heating systems and refuse containers.
The apartment blocks look like a continuation of the terraced
units but stacked vertically on top of one another. This stacked
appearance is a product of the large horizontal window panes
that have the character of a panoramic window and offer a view
of the skyline of the city and even as far as Canada. This solution
was achieved in combination with an unusual treatment of the
window profiles: instead of using Mies’ typical vertical I-beam,
they consist of two ][-profiles used back to back.

Later alterations to the buildings


The settlement is operated as a cooperative and the residents are
permitted only to make alterations to the interiors. Consequently,
the kitchens have most frequently been modified. The most fun-
damental alteration, however, concerns the renewal of the entire
glazing with new thermal glazing with a dark-coloured tint. The ar-
chitecture as well as the landscaping of Lafayette Park is now listed
and subject to conservation regulations. Residents are only able
to freely plant an area within one metre of the houses. The vege-
tation has nevertheless changed as a whole. For example, the sys-
tem of 1.78 metre high hedges is not as homogenous in appear­
ance as was originally intended.3 The later phases of the project
were not realised according to the original plans and a few years
later, Mies also designed the Lafayette Towers on an adjacent site.

The buildings as seen from the present


When Lafayette Park was planned, the city was just beginning to
shrink. Since then Detroit has declined dramatically, losing more
than half of its original residents. In summer 2013, the city decla-
red bankruptcy. The areas of the city most affected by the exo-
dus into the suburbs were the inner-city neighbourhoods. In this
context, past visions for shrinking metropolitan regions are once
again becoming relevant. In his 1977 essay The City Within the
City, O
­ swald Mathias Ungers made a case for vacating entire u ­ rban
districts in order to convert these back into green areas. The result
would be islands of city scattered in a sea of park land­scape. Ini-
tiatives in this vein are now being discussed for Detroit.
While Hilberseimer vehemently argued for the rejection of
any kind of density in the city, we are now also aware of its neg­
ative implications. At the same time, anyone who visits Lafay-
ette Park today will experience it as a green oasis. While many
simil­ar ­urban renewal projects have failed, this project is still re-
garded as having been successful. People identify strongly with
the park, although few residents are aware of the architect re­
sponsible. The social composition of the residents is mixed and
the crime rate is low – even though there are no fences.

1 The predominantly African American neighbourhood of “Black Bottom”


was demolished in 1950, but it was years before a project developer was
willing to take on the project, despite the availability of state subsidies. For
further information on the history of Lafayette Park, see: Charles Waldheim
(ed.), Hilberseimer/Mies van der Rohe – Lafayette Park, Munich, ­B erlin,
London, New York 2004.
2 Ludwig Hilberseimer, The Nature of Cities; Origin, Growth, and Decline,
Pattern and Form, Planning Problems, Chicago 1955, p. 267.
3 The current state of the settlement is documented in: Danielle Aubert,
Lana Cavar and Natasha Chandani (eds.), Thanks for the View Mr. Mies:
Lafayette Park, Detroit 2012.

Courtyard house
174 Terraced houses
Views from the gardens L afaye tte Park 175
176 Pavilion Apartments
described the detailing of the aluminium façades as “completely
convincing”, especially when compared with the bronze façade
of the Seagram Building, which was so elaborate as to be out of
“architectural and moral balance.”6 Discussions of the project
have posed the question as to whether buildings of such dimen-
sions and forms can still be human. This was felt to be the case
as the “spatial organisation and the spatial proportions” com-
municate “an impression of tranquillity and order.” 7

Later alterations to the buildings


The buildings themselves have survived largely unchanged, al­
th­ough some renovations have been made that do not reflect the
character of the architecture. Mies’ minimalist balustrade around
the plinth of the Colonnade Apartments, for example, has been
replaced by a vertically structured fence. The surroundings have,
however, changed significantly. At the end of the 1960s the city
entered a period of catastrophic decline from which it has yet to
fully recover and this has likewise affected the demographic com-
position of its residents. Many of the surrounding buildings have
since been demolished.

The buildings as seen from the present


It is an experience to walk around the complex. The spatial ges­
ture of the tall slabs raised off the ground is heightened by the ab-
stract form of the buildings. From one of the highest points of the
topography, near to a large cathedral, one can see that the Co-
lonnade Apartments have been placed on a ledge in the site in a
manner that recalls the Riehl House. While only fragments of the
surrounding urban fabric remain intact due to the city’s decline,
the park has continued to flourish over a period of more than 100
years. Mies’ buildings meanwhile still stand in their original skin,
their windowpanes quivering in stormy weather creating vibrating
reflections of the clouds. Few of the white middle class ten­ants for
which the apartments were originally built still live here as the sur-
roundings are now regarded as unsafe and run-down, and architec-
ture fans are rarely to be seen. Similarly, the high-rise apartments
without balconies are no longer seen as being suitable for families.

1 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Katharine Kuh, in: The
Saturday Review, 23 Jan. 1965, p. 23.
2 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Ulrich Conrads in 1964,
produced on a phonograph record, Mies in Berlin, Bauwelt. English lan-
guage source: Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (1986), in: David Spaeth: Mies van
der Rohe, Stuttgart, 1986, p. 11
3 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, “Industrielles Bauen” in: G – Material zur
elementaren Gestaltung, no. 3, June 1924, pp. 8–13. English language
translation in Fritz Neumeyer, The Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the
Building Art, Cambridge, Mass. 1991, p. 249.
4 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in conversation with Christian Norberg-Schulz,
in: L’œuvre de Mies van der Rohe, Éditions de l’Architecture d’ Aujourd’hui,
Paris 1958, p. 100.
5 Ludwig Hilberseimer, Mies van der Rohe, Chicago 1956, p. 64.
6 Reyner Banham, “Almost Nothing is Too Much”, in: Architectural Review,
Aug. 1962, p. 128.
7 Cf. “Überbauung Colonnade Park in Newark” in: Bauen+Wohnen, July
1961, p. 248. The detailing of the buildings is presented as a progressive
solution – elsewhere in the same journal one finds job advertisements from
“modern architecture offices” asking for candidates with a “progressive
­understanding of architecture”.

Pavilion Apartments
Colonnade Apartments
180 Plinth of the Colonnade Apartments
View looking northwest
Colonnade Apartments C olonnad e and Pavi l io n A part ment s 181
Bacardi Office Building Mies had originally designed an office building for Bacardi in Cuba,
Mexico City, Mexico, 1958–61 but the project was abandoned following the Cuban Revolution.
Soon after, however, a second project followed for an office build­
ing in the grounds of the Bacardi bottling plant in Mexico City,
which Félix Candela had designed as a concrete shell structure.
Mies’ building stands in front of the bottling plant and is raised
off the ground on columns so as to be visible at eye level from
the elevated highway passing the site.1 This decision was, how-
ever, anything but economical, especially as much of the usable
space had to be sacrificed for the staircase. The two service cores
are clad in Mexican mahogany and the floors and the stairs pa-
ved with travertine. Despite the two-storey nature of the structure,
the 24 steel columns could be left exposed. Curtains and the use
of tinted glass provide the only form of protection from the sun.

1 Mies’ explanation was as follows: “The highway is higher than the site.
So if we would have built a one-story building there, you would see only
the roof. That was the reason that we made a two-story building there.” in:
John Peter, The Oral History of Modern Architecture – Interviews with the
Greatest Architects of the Twentieth Century, New York 1994, p. 172. The
building is documented in: Bauwelt, 6 Aug. 1962, pp. 886–888.

Ground floor plan


182 First floor plan
Entrance façade
Corner of the building 183
Like the Seagram Building, the floor plan of the tower has a
­T-shaped plan. The detailing and colouration of the façade has like-
wise been carried over from the Seagram Building, although here
anodized aluminium has been used in place of bronze. A new de-
tail was developed for the inner corner of the façades that empha-
sises the principle of the curtain walling. By allowing the extern­al
skin to step back at the corners, a vertical cavity results in the in-
side corner that is expressed as a negative volume. Following a
series of renovations at ground level, some of the original sub­
stance was lost including the replacement of the original entrance
situation and the demolishment of an exterior stair beneath the
building that bridged the different heights of the sloping terrain.1

1 Cf. Franz Schulze and Edward Windhorst, Mies van der Rohe: A Critical
Biography, Chicago, London 2012, pp. 369–370.

Views of the façade showing inner corner 185


The two parallel high-rise slab buildings are identical in arrange-
ment and detailing to the Pavilion Apartments in Newark, New
Jersey, that were planned at the same time. Here, though, the
build­ings have been placed closer to one another with a car park
in between. The construction of the flat part of the building has a
continuous opening beneath the ceiling slab reminiscent of Mies’
unbuilt “concrete office building” project from 1923. The roof ter-
race is designed as a sun deck with a swimming pool. The complex
is an extension of Mies’ earlier Lafayette Park estate, the urban
planning of which was conceived together with Ludwig Hilbersei-
mer. This second phase was originally also planned as a mixture
of single-storey courtyard buildings, two-storey terraced houses
and apartment blocks.1

1 Cf. Charles Waldheim (ed.), Hilberseimer/Mies van der Rohe – Lafayette


Park, Munich, Berlin, London, New York 2004. For further information on
the history of the building’s use: Danielle Aubert, Lana Cavar and Natasha
Chandani (eds.), Thanks for the View Mr. Mies: Lafayette Park, Detroit 2012.

Overall complex
Swimming pool
Parking garage 187
Federal Center The complex consists of a courthouse, offices and a single-storey
Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1959–74 post office. The urban concept of inserting a high-rise building
and an adjacent plaza into dense urban surroundings, as used
previously for the Seagram Building, is extended here to fill a lar-
ger site. Two high-rise slabs in the heart of Chicago’s inner city are
grouped around a single-storey square “pavilion” to create an ex-
tensive outdoor area. In contrast to the deep canyon-like streets
of the surroundings, the buildings are perceived as freestanding
elements in urban space. The large scale of the complex is appar­
ent throughout, for example in the over eight-metre-high room
height of the post office building.
Mies is known only to have commented on the project as fol-
lows: “We put the buildings so that each one gets the best situ-
ation and that the space between them is about the best we can
achieve.”1 For him this was a question of proportions. Several dif-
ferent variants of the urban massing were developed. In addition
to the asymmetrical arrangement that was eventually realised, a
vari­ant with a single tower and one with two identical building slabs
arranged parallel to one another were presented. A fourth smaller
building was eventually created to house the technical services.
The resulting complex represents not only an architectural compo-
sition of abstract clarity but also a new urban concept in the city.
Although the façade articulation of the two towers is identical,
they contain different functions. The 42-storey Kluczynski Building
to the south contains offices for various federal authorities, while
the slab-like 30-storey Dirksen Building contains courtrooms. The
courtrooms, each two storeys high, are arranged above one an­
other in the core of the building and are clad internally with stain­ed
walnut panelling. Lacking windows, they are lit by continuous illu-
minated ceilings made of a suspended aluminium grid of square
panels. Offices are arranged next to the windows. Despite the uni-
form appearance of the exterior, the internal organisation of the
1
building is very complex, with public and private areas kept strictly
3 separate from one another: “The judges’ private elevators connect
to underground parking; four special elevators carry prisoners to
2
cells adjoining the courtrooms; jurors use the private corridor, as
do judges, lawyers and staff; the public is restricted to the wide
corridor serving the courtrooms.”2
Although the two towers are separate freestanding objects,
one perceives them as being part of the same complex, their L-
shaped arrangement marking out an urban space. Despite the
uniformity of the façades, they are vertically structured: the tops
of the towers are crowned by a band of opaque panels that encl­
ose the services and plant room, and a similar band wraps around
the waist of the taller of the two towers just above a third of the
height of the building. Reflections play across the surfaces of the
façades as the ambient conditions change, lending the façades a
sense of dynamism. The towers are raised off the ground on col­
umns with fully glazed lobbies, creating a sense of spatial conti-
nuity at ground level that is further underlined by the continuous
paving of the floor. The plaza is paved with grey Rockville granite
and this material continues on into the hall of the post office and
the lobbies of the high-rise towers.
The interior of the post office, which opens completely towards
the plaza, was originally planned as a clear-span structure, but the
soil conditions were deemed inadequate and the roof of the space
is borne instead by four cruciform columns. Two installation ducts
clad with green-coloured granite extend from the floor to the ceil­
ing, which like that in Crown Hall is suspended from above. The
walls containing the post boxes are likewise clad with granite. Lorry
access for deliveries and collections is arranged below ground.
Both the structural framework as well as the façade is made
of steel. For Mies, this represented an ideal combination, albeit
one he was only rarely able to realise. His residential towers were
mostly reinforced steel constructions clad with aluminium curtain
walling, and he had only once succeeded in combining a steel

Site plan
1 U.S. Post Office
2 John C. Kluczynski Federal Building
188 3 Everett M. Dirksen U.S. Courthouse
View from the west
View from the north 189
structural skeleton with a steel façade before, namely in his pro-
ject for the apartment blocks on 860–880 Lake Shore Drive, also
in Chicago. Unlike the earlier prototypical project, however, the
external skin of the façade does not lie in the plane of the sup-
porting structure but is positioned in front of it. By locating the
loadbearing structure within the external skin, it is easier to handle
their respective differential thermal expansion because the struc-
tural frame and the façade are two separate elements indepen-
dent of one another. The steel profiles of the façade were welded
together on site and painted Mies’ trademark matt-graphite col­
our. The individual window casements were made of dark-colour­ed
aluminium with dark-tinted panes of glazing.

Later alterations to the buildings


While the only alterations made to the buildings concern the ar-
rangement of the interiors, the plaza was extensively renovated
from 2010–11 and incorporated some changes. To comply with
stricter security regulations for government buildings, granite bol-
lards have been installed in a ring around the towers. As originally
intended, further courtrooms have been inserted into the building.
Many of the corridors have since been clad with granite and the
linoleum flooring has been covered with carpeting.3 Although the
complex was first completed in 1974 and was undertaken in con-
junction with three other architecture offices – Schmidt, Garden
and Erikson, C. F. Murphy Associates, and A. Epstein and Sons –
Mies was the design architect for the project. The decision to in-
stall Alexander Calder’s “Flamingo”, a bright red steel sculpture
on the plaza, was made without Mies who had originally foreseen
planting at this spot.

The buildings as seen from the present


To build the Federal Center, it was necessary to demolish the Chi-
cago Federal Building, a typical neo-classical building with mo-
numental columns and a crowning dome built from 1898–1905.
While the previous building clearly communicated its public func-
tion, the uniform façades of the high-rise towers offer no indication
of what they contain. For Mies, this anonymous character was an
ideal: he was so utterly convinced of the universal applicability of
his architectural solutions that he applied the same basic architec-
tural vocabulary to business headquarters as he did to residential
buildings. Later generations of architects would come to regard
this radical uniformity with increasing scepticism. At the end of the
1970s, the architect Philip Johnson commented on Mies’ architec-
ture, remarking: “Another trouble with the International Style was
everything looked like a box. A church looked like a box, not like
a church. A library didn’t look like a library.”4
With his design for the Federal Center, Mies was able to create
a major urban plaza in the city. It is a public space that contribu-
tes a special quality to the city. Although numerous buildings now­
adays populating the centre of Chicago were directly inspired by
Mies’ architecture, the clarity of expression that characterises the
Federal Center remains unparalleled.

1 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in: Moisés Puente (ed.), Conversations with
Mies van der Rohe, Barcelona 2006, p. 78.
2 Architectural Record, March 1965, p. 132.
3 Detailed information on the alterations made to the building can be
found on the homepage of the U.S. General Service Administration:
www.gsa.gov.
4 Philip Johnson in conversation with Barbaralee Diamonstein-Spielvogel in
1978: library.duke.edu/digitalcollections/dsva.

Post office hall


190 Post boxes
Dirksen Building F e deral Cen ter 191
Exterior view
Interior of the cashier hall 193
2400 Lakeview Situated next to a park, this high-rise apartment building has an al-
Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1962–63 most square floor plan. Although the orientation of the floor plan
is barely perceptible, the directionality is emphasised through
the placement of the columns and the proportions of the ent-
rance hall. The two steps that lead up to the lobby are articulated
as a podium. The complex features a swimming pool shielded by
an enclosing wall, as well as central air conditioning, both indica-
tions of the high standard of the apartments. The 364 apartments
have different arrangements, ranging from floors with one- and
two-room apartments to floors with large four-room apartments.1
At times, the natural illumination suffers due to the great depth
of the floor plans, especially for the north-facing apartments. The
cross-section of the columns of the concrete construction decrea­
ses towards the outer faces and the corners as the loadbearing
requirement decreases, although this irregularity is concealed by
the uniform-sized aluminium sheathing.

1 Bauen und Wohnen, Apr. 1965, pp. 169–172.

194 Ground floor plan


East façade
Entrance canopy 195
The apartment building lies in a green suburb of villas north of the
Johns Hopkins University on the same street as Mies’ earlier One
Charles Center office building some five kilometres away. Although
the parkland character of the neighbouring university campus per-
meates the low-rise neighbourhood in the vicinity, this stretch of
Charles Street is flanked by a series of high-rise apartment build­
ings. Highfield House is a fourteen-storey north-south oriented
slab that stands raised on columns on a platform arti­culated as an
architecturally landscaped garden.
One enters the complex from the east. Aside from the sup-
porting columns and the access cores, the ground floor is open
affording a view through to the garden beyond. The central sec-
tion of the building with the entrance lobby is fully glazed, while
the remainder is a forest of columns through which one passes
into the garden. Enclosed by a perimeter wall the garden is a pla-
teau containing an arrangement of planting beds, benches and
clearly proportioned sections of lawn. Two rows of five benches
have been placed in front of freestanding glass walls with electric
light sources concealed within their frames. During the day they
serve as screens while at night they are transformed into freestand­
ing illuminated objects.1
The car parking is arranged below ground. The almost square
site has a height difference of five metres descending westwards
making it possible for cars to access the parking via a ramp oppo-
site the main entrance. The lower level also houses the commun­al
facilities which open onto an interior courtyard with trees and a
round swimming pool. This courtyard takes the form of a rect­
angular incision of 2:3 proportions in the middle of the rearward
garden, resulting in outdoor areas on two levels. The trees are
arranged freely in beds on the lower level and exemplify a prin-
ciple seen in many of Mies’ buildings from this period in which the
buildings were rigidly symmetrical but the vegetation was placed
asymmetrically.
The building itself is essentially a pristine block with bands of
uniformly sized windows that lend it an abstract appearance. The
high-rise section of the building is, however, just one part of the
overall complex. As with Mies’ earlier houses, the building and the
garden form a single composition. The architectonic treatment of
the topography makes it a part of the architecture. As with the gar-
den of the Riehl House, a step in the site is articulated as a plinth
on which the building stands, raised off the ground on columns.
The reinforced concrete construction of the building has been
left unclad. As with the earlier Promontory and Algonquin Apart-
ments as well as the residential buildings at the IIT in Chicago,
the concrete pillars grow more slender with each storey, stepping
back slightly every five storeys as a reflection of the reduction in
load. On the ground floor, one can see that the articulation of the
skeleton frame structure optimises material usage: the central col­
umns are X-shaped in cross section, while the corner columns are
L-shaped and the perimeter columns I-shaped. Advances in build­
ing technology also made it possible to achieve far greater col­
umn spans than in his earlier reinforced concrete buildings. As a
result, the horizontal window openings are more elongated than
in his earlier buildings.
The windowpanes of the fully air-conditioned apartment build­
ing have a dark tint and the window frames are made of black-
anodized aluminium, contrasting markedly with the light colour
of the concrete framework. The masonry panels beneath the win-
dows further emphasise the horizontality. The form of the windows
echoes the elongated overall proportions of the building. This ana-
logy between the proportions of the individual elements and the
whole can be seen in other buildings by Mies, for example in the
vertical glazing panels of his high-rise towers.
The spectrum of materials used in the building ranges from
precious wood veneers and travertine stone cladding (for example
for the lift core) to untreated facing concrete for the plinth of the

197
Façade overlooking the garden
198 Garden
building, which has an uncharacteristically rough surface quality
similar to that of brutalist concrete architecture.2 This contrast is
also evident in the paving. The paving slabs are made of concrete
mixed with coarse gravel aggregate and represent a continuation
of the typical materiality of Baltimore’s pavements. The entrance
hall is paved with terrazzo flooring made of the same basic gra-
vel, giving the impression that the paving has simply been sanded
and polished – as if it were a refinement of an ordinary material.

Later alterations to the building


The building has changed little since it was built, although many
of the apartments have been remodelled, most notably the kit-
chens, which were designed by Mies’ office and had cupboards
clad with wood. The driveway was repaved using stone material
from the same source. The electric lighting of the glass walls in
the garden is, however, no longer in use and the planting has also
changed over time. Originally all three beds in the garden were
simply sections of lawn.

The building as seen from the present


The building was erected just as the population of Baltimore be-
gan to decline dramatically, a trend that continues to the pres­ent
day. This was a product of the exodus of the middle classes from
the city centres to the outlying suburbs that were being built all
over America at that time. The architecture of Highfield House
responds to this anti-urban development by providing a liv­ing
­environment in green surroundings that is also car-friendly. Mies
himself was critical of the developments of the time: “Also, you
can avoid the spread of these silly suburban houses. Chicago has
thousands of them all over the place. Instead of eating up the
land they should have been developed as tall and low buildings
in a reasonable way.”3
Ironically, the residential high-rise would later become a mo-
del for social housing while monotonous suburban settlements
contin­ue to be built today. Highfield House still offers a high
standard­­of living and is occupied by predominantly affluent
­residents, although this is more a product of the desirable location­
than of the architectural design of the building.

1 The building is documented in: Bauen und Wohnen, May 1966, pp. 174–176,
and in: Franz Schulze (ed.), The Mies van der Rohe Archive – An Illustrated
Catalogue of the Mies van der Rohe Drawings in the Museum of Modern
Art, vol. 19, London, New York 1992, pp. 230–248.
2 Cf. Reyner Banham, The New Brutalism – Ethic or Aesthetic?, London
1966. Mies’ buildings for the IIT are also documented in this publication.
Banham argues that Mies’ use of steel exhibits an honesty of expression
­s imilar to that of Le Corbusier’s use of concrete.
3 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in: Moisés Puente (ed.), Conversations with
Mies van der Rohe, Barcelona 2006, p. 14, 16 (in: Interbuild, June 1959).

Views of the garden Highf i el d Ho u se 199


Detail of the façade
200 Entrance
North façade Hi ghf i el d Ho u se 201
Social Service Administration As with Crown Hall, one enters directly into an expansive hall, from
University of Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1962–64 which twin sets of stairs lead down to a basement level illuminated
only by a ribbon of windows beneath the ceiling. The pair of sym-
metrically arranged stairs also lead up to a mezzanine floor result­
ing in a split-level Raumplan-type arrangement that Mies ­rarely em-
ployed. While the two zones at either end have two storeys, the
lobby and library that surround the central service core are single-
storey spaces. This arrangement was sufficient for the building to
be classed as a single-storey building, obviating the need to fire-
sheath the loadbearing steel construction. As in Mies’ other late
work, the wide-flange I beams serve to delineate the façade, but
here they are also part of the loadbearing structure. Four such
steel I beams are welded together to create cruciform columns.1

1 See Architectural Design, May 1966, pp. 245–250.

202 Ground floor plan


Exterior view
Staircase 203
View from the campus grounds
Internal courtyard 205
Exterior views 207
Mies was given free reign: not only could he decide which build­
ing he wanted to design and where he wanted to site it but he was
also able to circumvent the building regulations. He elected to de-
sign a museum for art for a location opposite where he once lived
on the banks of the Landwehr Canal, which in the end is ironic­
ally largely inconspicuous. Atop a heavy stone podium, he creat­
­ed a temple-like hall that crowned the architecture but was not
actually the gallery itself. Even when walking around it, one is not
aware that it is the plinth that contains the actual gallery spaces.
Nevertheless, the entrance is unmistakable, the visitor ascending
a broad stair to reach a raised plateau, from which one enters the
hall before descending again into the galleries in the basement.
The monolithic character of the plinth is strengthened further by
the fact that Mies was able to dispense with the prescribed peri-
meter balustrade.
In an interview, Mies relates: “I would not have been inter­
ested had it been any other normal building. That would not
have been necessary. There are plenty of architects in Berlin that
could have done that. […] Because the site slopes slightly from
the new Potsdamer Straße and the new bridge, it was almost a
given that we should build a two-storey building in which the
low­er part would be the actual museum.”1
From the main entrance one is not at all aware that there are
two storeys. The building is reduced to a few archetypical ele-
ments, each of which is clearly differentiated from the other and
employs very different materials. Elevated above a podium clad
with granite from Strzegom, the same material used for the pave­
ments in Berlin, is a vast flat steel roof, with glazed, non-struc­
tural walls spanning between the two. In the interior one can see
two ventilation shafts clad with Greek Tinos marble and bronze
grilles in the manner of monumental chimneys.
From this central hall, visitors are directed downwards via two
steep stairs. A more comfortable angle of descent would not have
been possible within the rigorous constraints of the structur­al
grid, to which every detail adheres. The gallery spaces for the
exhibits in the basement open onto a planted garden with sculp-
tures and a water basin. From here, one can see the upper hall
again, this time as a pavilion-like crown, while a plant-covered
wall lends the outdoor space a sense of cloister-like intimacy.
Mies wanted to create “interior courtyards with trees, flow-
ers and sculptures that relate to the exhibition spaces, that is
to incorporate the surroundings into the realm of art and vice
versa, to create a unity of art and life.” 2 For Mies, the architec-
tural dialogue between interior and exterior had a philosophic­
­al dimension in the context of art. “The building as a whole as
well as its individual rooms should always relate to the real world
and be open and connected to it. The connection between art
and reality must be irrefutably apparent. The work of art is con-
densed reality.” 3
Although Mies declared that he did not want a temple as a
museum, he describes his work as a “classical solution”,4 as a
“building of clarity and rigour […] very much in the tradition of
Schinkel”. 5 He states that, “the purpose of such an endeavour
cannot be to build a new temple to ‘art’ in which (supposedly)
categorical works of culture are to be conserved.”6 Nevertheless,
the parallels with classical architecture are readily apparent. The
eight firmly clamped “pillars” that support the vast roof of the hall
taper towards the top and are crowned by a clearly visible ball
joint that represents an abstract capital. The building itself also
radiates a sense of static tranquillity: “Museums with an overly
strong sense of dynamism,” Mies notes, “distract the viewer.” 7

Later alterations to the building


After four decades of use, the building is in need of repair. As po-
lished plate glass is no longer manufactured in such large sizes

209
Exterior of the hall
212 Interior of the hall
3 Ibid.
4 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in a letter to Werner Düttmann from 26
Feb. 1963, cited in: Zentralinstitut für Kunstgeschichte (ed.), Berlins
Museen – Geschichte und Zukunft (Berlin’s Museums – History and Future
Perspectives), Berlin 1994, p. 288.
5 Cf. note 2, p. 135.
6 Cf. note 2.
7 Ibid., p. 171.
8 Julius Posener, “Absolute Architektur (1973) – Kritische Betrachtungen
zur Berliner Nationalgalerie”, in: Aufsätze und Vorträge 1931–1980 (Essays
and Lectures 1931–1980), Braunschweig, Wiesbaden 1981, p. 247.
9 A study of the use of the building is given in: Imke Woelk, Der offene
Raum: der Gebrauchswert der Halle der Neuen Nationalgalerie Berlin von
Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (The Open Space. The Utility Value of the Hall
at the New National Gallery Berlin by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe), Disserta-
tion TU Berlin 2010, as well as: Joachim Jäger, Neue Nationalgalerie Berlin
– Mies van der Rohe (The New National Gallery in Berlin – Mies van der
Rohe), Ostfildern 2011.
10 Mies explains: “In Berlin, we split the museum building into two sec-
tions: the museum itself and the gallery spaces, except that the hall is
much larger and made of glass so that one can look out in all directions and
it establishes a connection with outdoors. […] The hall in Berlin is so large
and no doubt it will present difficulties as an exhibition space as well as for
the person organising the exhibits. That I am fully aware of, but the space
offers such great potential that I simply couldn’t take these difficulties into
consideration.” This quote is taken from the documentary film that Georgia
van der Rohe made about her father in 1986.
11 Stefan Polónyi, … mit zaghafter Konsequenz – Aufsätze und Vorträge
zum Tragwerksentwurf 1961–1987 (... with Gentle Determination – Essays
and Lectures on Structural Design 1961–1987), Braunschweig, Wiesbaden
1987, p. 98f.

Ground level
Stairs
Lower level Ne u e Natio nalgaler i e 213
Sculpture garden
214 Outdoor stairs
Sculpture garden Ne u e Natio nalgaler i e 215
Toronto-Dominion Centre With this urban intervention, Mies changed the centre of Toronto.
Toronto, Canada, 1963–69 The complex consisting of two high-rise towers and a single-storey
bank building was realised in the heart of the city by grouping to-
gether several plots. In the financial district just south of the old
town hall, buildings were demolished to create a large building
site which was formed into a single plateau. The new build­ing vol­
umes are arranged freely on this plateau without paying regard
to the historical plan of the city. As with the Neue Nationalgale-
rie in Berlin in which the incline of the site is used to conceal a
full storey, Mies created a granite-paved plinth reached by a mon­
umental flight of stairs. In both projects, the plinth houses many
of the principal spaces without being visible from outside. In To-
ronto, the plinth houses an artificially illuminated shopping con-
course and a cinema. This platform in the terrain is articulated ar-
chitectonically as a “mound” belonging to the ground and differs
markedly in its construction and materials from the steel and glass
buildings that stand on it.
The design for what was to be the tallest building in Canada
was originally going to be undertaken by Gordon Bunshaft, but
on Phyllis Lambert’s recommendation Mies was invited to con-
tribute. He ended up producing designs for the entire complex,
which was then realised in conjunction with the Canadian offices
of John B. Parkin Associates and Bregman + Hamann Architects.1
The successively completed buildings of the 56-storey Toronto
Dominion Bank Tower (1967), the single-storey customer service
hall of the bank and the 46-storey Royal Trust Tower (1969) to-
gether form a coherent ensemble which despite their asymmetric­
placement relate clearly to one another. The taller of the two tow-
ers is connected by a walkway to the single-storey pavilion creating
an L-shaped figure that encloses a plaza. The connecting walkway
is, however, designed in such a way that both building volumes
­retain their autonomous character and are perceived as freestand­
ing objects. The two towers stand with their narrow ends facing
the customer service hall of the bank.
As with Mies’ other buildings, the vegetation is conceived as
part of the overall architectural composition. Together with the
landscape architect Alfred Caldwell, Mies placed trees in an asym-
metrical pattern of recesses in the paving and integrated grass
lawns into the stone plinth. As a result the urban block provides
not only a public plaza but also an abstract natural land­scape.
The ­design of the outdoor areas is a fundamental part of the ar-
chitecture, knitting together the plinth and the pavilion that sits
on it. The result is a balanced contrast between the sculptur­al
mass and weight of the podium and the slender lightweight im-
pression of the wide-span steel structural frameworks that extend
high up into the sky.
As in Berlin, the two monumental service ducts in the square
hall are clad with Greek Tinos marble, and visitors familiar with
the Neue Nationalgalerie will have a déjà-vu experience on en-
tering the bank. A further similarity between the buildings is the
large column-free universal space covered by a grid of steel roof
trusses. The advantage of this method, which required the utmost
precision, is the low self-weight and construction depth of the roof
structure; its disadvantage the high assembly costs, which Mies
was nevertheless willing to accept in order to achieve the de­sired
impression of lightness. He declared, “we have steel. I think that
this is a fine material. By fine, I mean it is very strong. It is very ele-
gant. You can do a lot with it. The whole character of the build­ing
is very light. That is why I like it when I have to build a building in
a steel construction. What I like best is when I can use stone on
the ground.”2
Like Corbusier, Mies regarded the George Washington Bridge
as the best structure in New York and he was obsessed with find­
ing constructions that were adequate expressions of the material
employed. Because steel is able to achieve greater floor spans, he
developed a wide-span steel structure that he continually strove

216 Floor plan of the bank building


Detail of the plaza
218 Interior of the bank building
The plaza
Pavilion 221
High-rise towers
222 Pavilion
its surrounding environment is no longer legible as new high-rise
buildings have since been built around it. The low building there-
fore no longer serves the mediating role it used to.
The original fabric of the complex has not been cared for with
the same degree of attention as other Mies buildings, and it has
also received little attention from scholars of Mies, who have been
hesitant in attributing the project to Mies. In most books on Mies,
the complex is not mentioned and even in one of the most recent
publications, Mies’ role is quoted as being that of a “consultant”
so that the building “reads today almost as a Mies knockoff”.5

1 The contrast is shown clearly in: Peter Carter, Mies van der Rohe at Work,
London 1974, p. 142.
2 Cf. the chapter “Megacity Montreal”, in: Reyner Banham, Megastructure
– Urban Futures of the Recent Past, London 1976, pp. 104–127.
3 Mies cooperated here with the architecture office of Greenspoon, Freed-
lander, Dunne, Plachta and Kryton in Montreal. See: “Mies in Montreal”, in:
L’Architecture d’Aujourd’hui, Paris Jan./Feb. 2004, p. 108; and Alvin Boy-
arsky, “End of the Line”, in: Architectural Design, vol. 3, 1970, p. 157.
4 Leo MacGillivray, “Westmount Square ‚City-in-City”, in: The Montreal
Gazette, 31 Jan. 1968, p. 36.
5 Franz Schulze and Edward Windhorst, Mies van der Rohe – A Critical
Biography, Chicago, London 2012, p. 348.

Ensemble of high-rise buildings Wes t mo u nt Sq u are 223


Corner detail
Entrance hall
Reading room 225
Exterior views of the Brown Wing 227
Nuns’ Island Apartments The three apartment buildings are situated on an island in the
Montreal, Canada, 1966–69 St. Lawrence River a short distance from the centre of Montreal.
The development of the island only began in the 1960s and Mies
was able to position his slab-like apartment buildings close to the
water’s edge in a park-like landscape. Like Highfield House in Bal-
timore, the buildings are made of concrete and here too the ex-
posed loadbearing structural frame steps back slightly at intervals
towards the top of the building. This, however, was the first time
that Mies incorporated balconies into high-rise buildings. As with
the service station nearby, he cooperated with local architecture
offices.1 David Cronenberg later used the buildings as the setting
for his film Shivers.

1 The two facing buildings were built together with Edgar Tornay and the
building that stands to one side with Philip D. Bobrow.

228 Site plan showing the riverbank


North building
South building 229
IBM building For the high-rise office building overlooking the Charles River, a
Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1966–72 new curtain wall system was developed that in terms of appear­
ance is typically Miesian but is better insulated than his previous
facades.1 Using dark anodized aluminium elements and tinted in-
sulated glass panels, the walling system incorporated a continuous
layer of insulation. A dedicated weather system on the roof was
linked to a computer-controlled air conditioning system develo-
ped by the participating engineering office, C. F. Murphy. The
rooms could be heated and cooled individually according to their
orientation and the position of the sun. Not only were the tech-
nical installations pioneering in their day, but the façade system
proved to be more reliable with respect to ongoing maintenance
than the earlier façade designs. Despite the space constraints in
downtown Chicago, the building was set back from the waterfront
to create a public space.

1 For further details on the planning of the building, see the description
by the project participant Rob Cuscaden in: “The IBM Tower: 52 Stories
of Glass and Steel on Site that Seemed ‘Almost Non-Existent’”, in: Inland
Architect, July 1972, p. 10.

230 Upper floor plan


South façade
Entrance hall 231
111 East Wacker Drive The 30-storey tower block on the Chicago River is part of an ex-
Chicago, Illinois, USA, 1967–70 tensive urban development project, the Illinois Central Air Rights
Development. A second tower was built from 1970–72 by the ar-
chitecture practice Fujikawa Conterato Lohan & Associates, the
direct successor to Mies van der Rohe’s office. Both towers have
a typical curtain wall façade and together form an ensemble of
buildings united by a base level containing shops that also ser-
ved as an upper pedestrianized level reached via steps. A street
even passes beneath the second of the towers. During renova-
tion works in 2011, the original surface paving was removed and
replac­ed with smaller-scale paving.

232 Site plan


Detail of the façade
Entrance hall 233
Service Station The building consists of different volumes covered by a sailing roof.
Montreal, Canada, 1968 Although the roof plane appears to rest on a masonry block, the
walls and roof are actually separate constructions, with the steel
roof supported by twelve columns. A glazed volume housing the
sales area and a masonry block containing the repair workshop
stand opposite one another, framing a space in-between for the
petrol pumps and the central attendant’s booth. The petrol sta-
tion is located on the Île des Sœurs (Nuns’ Island) in the vicinity of
other buildings designed by Mies and remained in use until 2008.
The purity of its construction awakens at times associations with
Japanese temples, a view of nature opening up from beneath a
large protective roof. The petrol station has since been converted
into a community centre. While the steel roof was restored to its
original condition, the spaces beneath were adapted to suit their
new requirements.

1 The conversion was undertaken by the architect Eric Gauthier. The


original building was designed by Mies’ office in collaboration with the
archi­t ect Paul H. Lapointe. For further information, see “Master Architect
Designs Unique Station” in: The Montreal Gazette, 21 Sep. 1968, p. 47.

234 Floor plan


Views from the south 235
Subject Index green space, greenery
23, 50, 104, 112, 173, 174, 199
abstraction
10, 68, 72, 95, 106, 126, 139, 156, 170, 188, 197, 209, 216, 219 grid
94, 104, 106, 112, 115, 122, 126, 130, 138, 168, 188, 192, 209,
aluminium 211, 216, 219, 220
8, 82, 118, 148, 161, 162, 165, 168, 179, 180, 185, 188, 190, 194,
197, 220, 230 hall
13, 16, 18, 20, 25, 39, 41, 45, 62, 63, 68, 82, 84, 90, 96, 98, 101,
brick 112, 115, 117, 128, 130, 131, 132, 136, 137, 139, 188, 190, 192,
10, 28, 37, 39, 45, 48, 50, 54, 56, 57, 64, 66, 68, 72, 80, 81, 90, 96, 194, 199, 202, 206, 209, 211, 213, 216, 219, 220, 224, 231, 233
101, 106, 110, 111, 118, 120, 121, 124, 126, 127, 136, 138, 148
landscape
brick bond, masonry bond 10, 20, 28, 37, 45, 50, 56, 58, 64, 68, 80, 82, 84, 90, 94, 96, 104,
37, 45, 48, 52, 55, 56, 57, 68, 72, 90, 96106, 127, 138, 148 142, 148, 160, 173, 174, 197, 204, 216, 219, 228

cladding, facing, panelling light


16, 18, 45, 48, 60, 68, 72, 94, 96, 101, 106, 111, 120, 121, 127, 9, 10, 16, 40, 50, 68, 72, 80, 84, 90, 130, 132, 168, 170, 173, 197,
136, 137, 138, 142, 148, 168, 188, 197 199, 204

colour module
23, 50, 55, 63, 76, 80, 82, 84, 121, 142, 146, 148, 174, 185, 188, 50, 104, 112, 115, 126, 130, 138, 168
190, 197
monument
concrete 8, 25, 28, 35, 43, 45, 57, 58, 82, 124, 162, 168, 170, 209, 216
10, 41, 50, 70, 82, 108, 112, 113, 114, 117, 119, 122, 123, 126,
129, 132, 136, 140, 150, 152, 154, 158, 160, 163, 164, 182, 184, movement
189, 192, 196, 199, 201, 206, 230 20, 23, 27, 56, 60, 68, 76, 93, 106, 110, 118, 132, 156, 211

context panorama, panoramic view


8, 9, 58, 62, 80, 82, 96, 101, 104, 146, 153, 179, 209, 219, 220 16, 20, 23, 56, 58, 82, 96, 148, 165, 174, 226

core plinth
9, 35, 41,60, 115, 137, 143, 156, 160, 162, 179, 182, 188, 192, 16, 27, 33, 45, 48, 50, 58, 90, 104, 110, 115, 122, 124, 127, 146,
197, 202, 224 168, 179, 180, 197, 209, 216, 220

corner podium
20, 23, 25, 37, 42, 48, 50, 56, 58, 63, 68, 76, 80, 90, 93, 94, 96, 23, 28, 33, 45, 76, 160, 168, 194, 204, 209, 216
106, 108, 111, 114, 115, 117, 118, 122, 124, 134, 138, 141, 142,
146, 151, 158, 168, 169, 177, 183, 185, 194, 197, 211, 219, 225 proportion
10, 13, 18, 20, 23, 30, 32, 35, 41, 43, 45, 50, 54, 90, 93, 104, 106,
detailing 111, 113, 115, 124, 180, 188, 194, 197, 219, 220
10, 23, 25, 28, 48, 49, 50, 55, 61, 68, 84, 90, 95, 110, 115, 118,
120, 122, 124, 134, 136, 146, 148, 153, 158, 159, 161, 162, 180, reconstruction
185, 187, 192, 209, 220 10, 18, 20, 30, 32, 33, 43, 55, 60, 64, 76, 80, 84, 94, 95, 101, 118

exhibition, exposition renovation, conversion, alteration


13, 25, 58, 60, 62, 63, 64, 72, 76, 80, 81, 84, 90, 94, 130, 133, 168, 10, 18, 20, 22, 27, 28, 37, 40, 43, 48, 49, 55, 60, 64, 66, 72, 80,
193, 199, 209, 211, 213 84, 93, 96, 101, 110, 117, 124, 132, 134, 146, 148, 153, 156, 158,
160, 162, 168, 170, 174, 180, 185, 190, 199, 209, 211, 219, 220,
flexibility 224 232
58, 104, 117, 132, 156, 219, 220
rhythm
function 50, 58, 90, 104, 132, 158, 173
16, 18, 23, 25, 37, 55, 61, 86, 93, 106, 117, 126, 132, 168, 188,
211, 220 sculpture
20, 23, 27, 56, 58, 68, 72, 76, 77, 84, 94, 153, 162, 190, 209, 214,
furnishing, furniture 215, 216
10, 16, 58, 62, 82, 84, 132, 153
armchairs: 62, 82; chairs: 16, 76, 82; cupboards: 45, 72, 142, silk
146, 148, 199; tables: 16, 23, 62, 76, 82, 132 63, 68,82, 84, 90, 93, 124, 142

gesture skeleton frame construction


16, 18, 28, 30, 55, 64, 82, 84 10, 58, 80, 81, 90, 115, 121, 138, 148, 156, 168, 190, 197, 219

236
spatial arrangement, concept, constellation Illustration Credits
9, 18, 23, 27, 39, 48, 50, 60, 63, 64, 72, 76, 82, 86, 93, 96, 123, All photographs and drawings by Carsten Krohn
124, 130, 140, 158, 180, 188, 220

spatial continuum, sequence of spaces


25, 62, 64, 84, 124, 153

stairs
10, 16, 18, 20, 29, 30, 33, 34, 37, 39, 40, 41, 42, 45, 46, 50, 55,
60, 72, 76, 80, 82, 90, 92, 93, 101, 110, 115, 117, 118, 119, 121,
130, 131, 132, 134, 136, 146, 148, 153, 179, 182, 185, 192, 202,
203, 208, 209, 211, 213, 214, 216, 220

steel construction
43, 58, 60, 68, 72, 76, 80, 82, 90, 95, 106, 110, 112, 115, 118,
120, 121, 126, 130, 132, 137, 139, 142, 146, 150, 151, 156, 158,
159, 162, 168, 182, 188, 190, 192, 199, 202, 211, 216, 219, 226,
230, 234

stone
10, 57, 64, 76, 80, 84, 121, 160, 197, 199, 209, 216
granite: 168, 188, 190, 192, 209, 216, 220; marble: 18, 45, 76,
80, 130, 162,168, 209, 216; onyx: 76, 80, 82, 84; shell lime-
stone: 35; travertine: 33, 45, 72, 76, 80, 84, 88, 124, 130, 142,
146, 156, 162, 182, 197, 220

supporting structure, load-bearing structure


10, 18, 23, 45, 58, 60, 68, 72, 81, 82, 94, 106, 111, 115, 120, 130,
132, 138, 142, 165, 169, 190, 202, 209, 219, 228, 234

tectonics
8, 18, 23, 72, 80, 82, 86, 93, 96, 132, 146, 148, 156

terrace
16, 20, 28, 33, 39, 40, 42, 45, 48, 56, 58, 64, 68, 82, 86, 87, 88,
96, 173, 174, 187

topography
18, 28, 30, 33, 58, 146, 179, 180, 197

type, typology
16, 18, 30, 35, 45, 90, 106, 110, 132, 148, 168, 173, 202, 209, 220

unity, entity
23, 30, 80, 104, 120, 133, 146, 168, 209, 58, 72, 80, 156

urban planning
13, 50, 58, 93, 104, 126, 138, 140, 162, 168, 173, 174, 179, 180,
187, 188, 190, 216, 219, 220, 232

view (to the exterior)


16, 20, 23, 25, 28, 32, 37, 42, 45, 56, 59, 68, 82, 84, 96, 101, 130,
142, 146, 148, 156, 158, 165, 173, 174, 179, 197, 206, 226, 234

visual axis
20, 32, 37, 39, 41, 45, 96, 104, 146, 173, 224

volume
27, 28, 37, 41, 50, 58, 68, 72, 90, 93, 96, 104, 106, 115, 118, 126,
139, 140, 146, 156, 162, 168, 173, 185, 204, 206, 216, 220, 234

water
25, 27, 28, 45, 76, 81, 96, 101, 142, 209, 220, 228, 230

237
Chronological Bibliography Martina Düttmann (ed.), Mies van der Rohe – Die neue Zeit ist eine
(organised by original editions) Tatsache, Berlin 1986

Philip Johnson, Mies van der Rohe, New York 1947 Sandra Honey and others, Mies van der Rohe – European Works,
London, New York 1986
Max Bill, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, Milan 1955
Werner Blaser, Mies van der Rohe – Less is More, Zurich 1986
Ludwig Hilberseimer, Mies van der Rohe, Chicago 1956
Werner Blaser, Mies van der Rohe – Umgang mit Raum und Möbel,
Éditions de l’Architecture d’Aujourd’hui, L’œuvre de Mies van der Aachen 1986
Rohe, Paris 1958
Arthur Drexler (ed.), The Mies van der Rohe Archive, New York
Peter Blake, Mies van der Rohe – Architecture and Structure, 1986–1993
­Harmondsworth 1960
Rolf Achilles, Kevin Harrington and Charlotte Myhrum (eds.), Mies
Arthur Drexler, Mies van der Rohe, New York 1960 van der Rohe – Architect as Educator, Chicago 1986

Werner Blaser, Mies van der Rohe – The Art of Structure, ­London John Zukowsky (ed.), Mies Reconsidered – His Career, Legacy and
1965 Disciples, New York 1986

James Speyer, Mies van der Rohe, Chicago 1968 Ajuntament de Barcelona, El Pavelló Alemany de Barcelona de
Mies van der Rohe, 1929–1986, Barcelona 1987
Martin Pawley, Mies van der Rohe, London 1970
William S. Shell, lmpressions of Mies – An lnterview on Mies van
Peter Carter, Mies van der Rohe at Work, London 1974 der Rohe: His Early Chicago Years 1938–1948, Chicago 1988

Lorenzo Papi, Mies van der Rohe, Florence 1974 Elaine S. Hochman, Architects of Fortune: Mies van der Rohe and
the Third Reich, New York 1989
Juan Pablo Bonta, An Anatomy of Architectural Interpretation – A
Semiotic Review of the Criticism of Mies van der Rohe’s Barcelona Arnold Schink, Mies van der Rohe – Beiträge zur ästhetischen Ent-
Pavilion, Barcelona 1975 wicklung der Wohnarchitektur, Stuttgart 1990

Dirk Lohan, Farnsworth House, Tokyo 1976 Franz Schulze (ed.), Mies van der Rohe – Critical Essays, Cam-
bridge MA 1990
Wolfgang Frieg, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe – Das europäische
Werk (1907–1937), Diss. University Bonn 1976 Josep Quetglas, Fear of Glass – Mies van der Rohe’s Pavillon in
Barcelona, Basel, Boston, Berlin 2001 (Montreal 1991)
Ludwig Glaeser, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe – Furniture and Fur-
niture Drawings from the Design Collection and the Mies van der Fritz Neumeyer (ed.), Ludwig Mies van der Rohe – Hochhaus am
Rohe Archive, New York 1977 Bahnhof Friedrichstraße: Dokumentation des Mies-van-der-Rohe-
Symposiums in der Neuen Nationalgalerie, Berlin 1993
David Spaeth, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe – An Annotated Biblio-
graphy and Chronology, New York 1979 Jean-Louis Cohen, Mies van der Rohe, Paris 1994

Werner Blaser, Mies van der Rohe – Furniture and Interiors, ­London Detlef Mertins (ed.), The Presence of Mies, Princeton 1994
1982 (Stuttgart 1980)
Helmut Erfurth and Elisabeth Tharandt (eds.), Ludwig Mies van der
Werner Blaser, Mies van der Rohe – Principles and School, Basel, Rohe – Die Trinkhalle, sein einziger Bau in Dessau, Dessau 1995
Berlin, Boston 1981
Gabriele Waechter (ed.), Mies van der Rohes Neue National-
Wolf Tegethoff, Mies van der Rohe – The Villas and Country galerie in Berlin, Berlin 1995
­Houses, Cambridge MA 1985 (Krefeld, Essen 1981)
Werner Blaser, West meets East – Mies van der Rohe, Basel, ­Berlin,
Franz Schulze, Mies van der Rohe – lnterior Spaces, Chicago 1982 Boston 1996

János Bonta, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, Budapest 1883 Franz Schulze, The Farnsworth House, Chicago 1997

Christian Norberg-Schulz, Casa Tugendhat, Brno, Rome 1984 Wolf Tegethoff, Im Brennpunkt der Moderne – Mies van der Rohe
und das Haus Tugendhat in Brünn, Munich 1998
Franz Schulze, Mies van der Rohe – A Critical Biography, ­Chicago
1985 Werner Blaser, Mies van der Rohe – Farnsworth House, Basel,
­Berlin, Boston 1999
David Spaeth, Mies van der Rohe, New York 1985
Werner Blaser, Mies van der Rohe – Lake Shore Drive Apartments,
Fritz Neumeyer, The Artless Word – Mies van der Rohe on the Basel, Berlin, Boston 1999
Build­ing Art, Cambridge MA 1991 (Berlin 1986)

238
Daniela Hammer-Tugendhat und Wolf Tegethoff, Ludwig Mies van Ruth Cavalcanti Braun, Mies van der Rohe als Gartenarchitekt –
der Rohe – Das Haus Tugendhat, Vienna, New York 1999 Über die Beziehung des Außenraums zur Architektur, Berlin 2006

Adolph Stiller (ed.), Das Haus Tugendhat – Ludwig Mies van der Christiane Lange, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe & Lilly Reich – M
­ öbel
Rohe, Brünn 1930, Salzburg 1999 und Räume, Ostfildern 2006

Yehuda E. Safran, Mies van der Rohe, Lisbon 2000 Moisés Puente (ed.), Conversations with Mies van der Rohe,
­Barcelona 2006
Ricardo Daza, Looking for Mies, Basel, Berlin, Boston 2000
Alex Dill and Rüdiger Kramm, Villa Tugendhat Brno, Karlsruhe 2007
Barry Bergdoll and Terence Riley (eds.), Mies in Berlin, Munich,
New York, London 2001 Jeschke, Hauff and Auvermann, Mies van der Rohe in Berlin,
­Berlin 2007
Phyllis Lambert (ed.), Mies in America, Montreal, New York 2001
Helmut Reuter and Birgit Schulte (eds.), Mies and Modern Living –­
Leo Schmidt (ed.), The Wolf House Project. Traces, Spuren, Slady, Interiors, Furniture, Photography, Ostfildern 2008
Cottbus 2001
Sven-Olov Wallenstein, The Silence of Mies, Stockholm 2008
Rolf D. Weisse, Mies van der Rohe: Vision und Realität – Von der
Concert Hall zur Neuen Nationalgalerie, Potsdam 2001 Claudia Hain, Villa Urbig 1915–1917 – Zur Geschichte und Archi-
tektur des bürgerlichen Wohnhauses für den Bankdirektor Franz
Christian Wohlsdorf, Mehr als der bloße Zweck – Mies van der Urbig, Berlin 2009
Rohe am Bauhaus 1930–1933, Berlin 2001
Christiane Lange, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe – Architektur für die
Thilo Hilpert (ed.), Mies van der Rohe im Nachkriegsdeutschland Seidenindustrie, Berlin 2011
– Das Theaterprojekt Mannheim 1953, Leipzig 2001
Joachim Jäger, Neue Nationalgalerie – Mies van der Rohe,
Werner Blaser, Mies van der Rohe – llT Campus, Basel, Berlin, ­Ostfildern 2011
Boston 2002
Christophe Girot (ed.), Mies als Gärtner, Zurich 2011
Max Stemshorn, Mies und Schinkel – Das Vorbild Schinkels im Werk
Mies van der Rohes, Tübingen, Berlin 2002 David Židlický, Villa Tugendhat – Rehabilitation and Ceremonial
Reopening, Brno 2012
Aurora Cuito, Mies van der Rohe, Barcelona 2002
Danielle Aubert, Lana Cavar and Natasha Chandani (eds.), Thanks
Maritz Vandenberg, Farnsworth House – Ludwig Mies van der for the View, Mr. Mies: Lafayette Park, Detroit, Detroit 2012
Rohe, London 2003
Franz Schulze and Edward Windhorst, Mies van der Rohe – A Cri-
Werner Blaser, Mies van der Rohe – Crown Hall, Basel, Berlin, tical Biography, New and Revised Edition, Chicago, London 2012
Boston 2004
Kerstin Plüm (ed.), Mies van der Rohe im Diskurs – Innovationen,
Charles Waldheim (ed.), CASE: Hilberseimer/Mies van der Rohe, Haltungen, Werke, Aktuelle Positionen, Bielefeld 2013
Lafayette Park, Detroit, Munich, Berlin, London, New York 2004
Mario Ferrari and Laura Pavia, Mies van der Rohe – Neue Natio-
Werner Blaser, Mies van der Rohe – Federal Center Chicago, ­Basel, nalgalerie in Berlin 1962–1968, Bari 2013
Berlin, Boston 2004
Phyllis Lambert, Building Seagram, New Haven, London 2013
Johannes Cramer and Dorothée Sack (eds.), Mies van der Rohe:
Frühe Bauten – Probleme der Erhaltung, Probleme der Bewer- Detlef Mertins, Mies – The Art of Living, London 2014
tung, Petersberg 2004

Enrique Colomés and Gonzalo Moure, Mies van der Rohe – V


­ elvet
and Silk Space in Berlin, Madrid 2004

Kent Kleinman and Leslie Van Duzer, Mies van der Rohe – The
­Krefeld Villas, Princeton 2005

Yilmaz Dziwior, Mies van der Rohe – Blick durch den Spiegel,
­Cologne 2005

George Dodds, Building Desire – On the Barcelona Pavilion, New


York 2005

Claire Zimmermann, Mies van der Rohe – 1886–1969, Cologne


2006

239
About the Author

Carsten Krohn studied architecture, art history and urban planning


at the Academy of Fine Arts and the university in Hamburg and
at Columbia University, New York. He published his Ph.D thesis
on the reception of Buckminster Fuller among architects. He has
worked with the architectural firm of Norman Foster and as an as-
sistant professor at the University of Karlsruhe. He also taught at
the Humboldt-University and Technical University, both in Berlin.
In 2010 he curated the exhibition The Unbuilt Berlin.

240

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