Gehry Draws

by Mark Rappolt and Robert Violette, Eds.
The MIT Press, Cambridge, MA, U.S.A., 2005
539 pp., llus. $50.00
ISBN: 0-262-18241-6.

Reviewed by Rob Harle (Australia)

harle@dodo.com.au

This book gives us a profound insight into the creative practice of master architect Frank Gehry. Whether you love or hate his buildings, you cannot ignore them. They lurch at "seemingly" precarious angles, flow over and around the site defying thousands of years of post & beam construction methodology and juxtapose the most unlikely external materials in wonderful harmony. How does he achieve this?

One of the key elements in Gehry’s design process is drawing. Not the normal 2D drawings we associate with architecture, such as plans, sections and so on but spontaneous, fluid lines coming straight from Gehry’s mind. He has described drawing as his way of "thinking aloud" (p. 8). Gehry’s drawing process reminds me very much of the philosophy of drawing described in Frederick Franck’s book, The Zen of Seeing: Seeing/Drawing As Mediation [1].

Gehry Draws has more than 500 drawings, with a further 400 illustrations – the book is over 50mm (2") thick! Except for a handful of colour photographs accompanying Daalder's essay, all illustrations and drawings are black & white. The drawings are accompanied by fairly brief commentaries by both Gehry himself and two of his partners Edwin Chan and Craig Webb. The bulk of the book presents some of the key thinking involved in the development of 29 major projects. Preceding this section there are three rather brief essays by Horst Bredekamp, Rene Daalder, and Mark Rappolt. Gehry’s drawings at first glance look like squiggles or meaningless doodling. Without these essays much of the book would remain somewhat of an undecipherable mystery.

Bredekamp’s essay looks at the importance of drawing throughout art and architecture. Again, not drawing as making construction plans but as "disegno", creative thinking by letting the hand trace the mind’s non preconceived intentions, ". . . the possibility of imagining spaces that go beyond the limits of the human imagination is, for Gehry, irrevocably based on the drawing hand" (p.25). Bredekamp likens Gehry’s "disegno" process with that of Leonardo and Durer. This essay is essential in helping us gain access to the drawings.

Daalder’s essay analyzes Gehry’s contribution to the "digital age". Daalder recognises Gehry as a pioneer of the "age", an accolade Gehry did not quite immediately accept, or better, fully realise. I found this sharp, hard-hitting essay to be one of the best I have read concerning our relationship to computers and their role in creative design. "When an analog person boots up his computer in the morning he gives it specific instructions about the tasks he wants it to perform that day, whereas when I turn on my computer I usually start out by asking it, "what do you want me to do today?" Daalder quotes here, Greg Lynn, a leading architect of the digital generation (p. 37). Many of Gehry’s buildings could not be built without computer input, and Daalder believes much of contemporary architectural practice is dominated and limited by inadequate, unsuitable design software and using computers simply as a tool rather than an "intelligent" collaborator in the design process.

The book is not intended as a catalogue or retrospective of all Gehry’s work but is an attempt to understand, through Gehry’s drawings, his creative method. As mentioned, there are over 500 hundred drawings——I think the book could have been trimmed down a little, after 200 pages of very similar "squiggles", it becomes a little boring, and if readers have not by then understood Gehry’s "disegno" practice, they probably never will. The sheer mass of drawings is probably of interest to those who may wish to consider a specific Gehry project.

Mark Rappolt, one of the book’s editors, points out in his very short essay that Gehry himself sometimes ". . . seems to have trouble keeping up with the drawings his thoughts suggest". If Gehry cannot at times understand his own drawings, how are we supposed too? Rappolt suggests we take the advice of Georges Perec in approaching Gehry’s drawings, "Spaces have multiplied, been broken up, and have diversified. There are spaces of every kind and every size, for every use and every function. To live is to pass from one space to another, while doing your very best not to bump yourself" (p. 42-43).

This book will appeal not only to those interested in architecture and design but also to those fascinated by the human creative imagination. Good luck in your journey through Gehry’s mind spaces——take care not to bump yourself too hard.

[1] Frederick Franck. The Zen of Seeing: Seeing/Drawing As Meditation. 1973. Vintage Books, Random House, NY.