CHICAGO ARCHITECTURE AND DESIGN: 1923-1993
The exhibit was organized by John Zukowsky, curator of the Art Institute’s Department of Architecture, and his staff. But much of the attention has focused on the man who designed the installation, architect Stanley Tigerman, who also figures prominently in the show. Of the 657 items in the exhibition catalog, 19 are credited to him in one way or another. Only the firm of Murphy/Jahn, with 23, has more. Tigerman beat out, among others, Skidmore, Owings & Merrill, for much of the era the world’s largest architecture firm, and Holabird & Root, which actively practiced throughout the 70-year period the show covers.
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In 1979 Tigerman and some of his colleagues founded the Chicago Architectural Club, which was modeled on and named after the salonlike association of Chicago architects active in the years before World War I. The original Chicago Architectural Club met regularly, published and held exhibitions, and symbolized a sort of golden era for the profession. Stanley and friends thought it would be great fun to herald the arrival of a new golden era–the 1980s, which were indeed halcyon days for architects–by reviving this cozy bastion of elitism. If you were to compare the lists of members in the Architectural Club publications of the 1980s with the names of those in the catalog’s genealogy currently practicing and with those whose work appears in the show, the result would be pretty much what you’d expect.
Helmut Jahn may cut a more dashing figure in his Italian suits and wide-brimmed fedoras, Walter Netsch may have been more politically connected, and Carter Manny may have hobnobbed with more of society’s swells. But in the last two decades Tigerman has emerged as one of the most–if not the single most–visible and vocal members of the Chicago architectural community. By sheer force of personality and a gift for self-promotion that rivals Burnham’s and Wright’s, he has evolved from enfant terrible to eminence grise in surprisingly few steps.
The period covered by this exhibit is much more amorphous. Enormous economic, technological, political, and social upheavals have made for a city that’s larger, higher, faster, denser, and more deeply troubled than anyone could have predicted in 1922. No easy bookends distinguish the period, nor can it boast the unchallenged brilliance in leadership of the earlier time. The exhibition’s organizers were faced with a much greater challenge: choosing materials that would accurately represent numerous trends and movements in design. That difficult task has been admirably accomplished.
Other examples of insiderness are pieces depicting projects everyone in the city probably knows well but most likely won’t be able to recognize here. Window wall elevations and elevator sections of the Sears Tower are nearly unrecognizable as representations of the world’s tallest building. A pencil sketch completed by Mies van der Rohe in the late 1940s has enormous historic value because it may have been his first schematic conception for the pioneering project that became 860-880 N. Lake Shore Drive. But without some accompanying materials–a small photograph of the completed buildings, perhaps–the untrained viewer sees only a rough sketch of two perpendicular slabs.
Nor are all of Tigerman’s contributions, however egocentric and self-serving, unwelcome. Some even make the show a lot more enjoyable. Near the front of the exhibit are books on podiums filled with entertaining entries from visitors on their “Most Favorite Architect,” “Least Favorite Architect,” and “Comments on the Exhibition.” Zukowsky says these were Tigerman’s idea: they may be an attempt to give the show a populist air, to make it into a sort of beauty contest, because despite the cliques of the architecture community Tigerman has taken the public stance of attempting to bring an appreciation of architecture to the masses. Soliciting viewers’ comments makes the whole thing seem a lot less user-hostile, and despite Tigerman’s elitist bent he would probably like to see more people talking and thinking about architecture because that would bring more attention to him and his coterie. I imagine he’d be thrilled if later editions of the catalog somehow reproduced viewers’ comments for posterity, though many are critical of the show for reasons ranging from poor signage to annoyance with the ambient sound effects (which I thought rather clever). Some of the remarks are insightful and perceptive; others are downright hilarious, often unintentionally.
