Cedar Rock is a private residence designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. It was commissioned by Lowell Walter and his wife as a vacation house, and completed in 1948. When Mrs. Walter died in 1982, the building was granted to the state of Iowa. They maintain it for public viewing today, and I have to say they're doing an outstanding job. Carol and I toured the building on the 6th of August, and enjoyed it very much. We've been to a lot of Wright structures, and we both rank this one as our favorite of his smaller houses.
I decided to put together a detailed photo essay for four reasons:
Cedar Rock is in a remarkable state of preservation. Compare it to the shots of Wright's Park Hotel in Mason City, Iowa that I have on this page.
It's one of only a handful of Wright's "Usonian" homes that are open to the public.
Not only is it open to the public, but the state of Iowa graciously allows anyone to take photos of the interior! A truly rare privilege for amateur photo schlubs like myself. You can even make commercial use of your photos under certain circumstances!
Carol and I both agreed we might actually consider living in a house like this.
First, a few words about Wright. I am not a Frank Lloyd Wright scholar or disciple, and I don't particularly approve of the way he is said to have treated those around him (including his clients). But I nonetheless admire his work tremendously. Wright is one of the great American artists who became popular legends, even while still living. I would include people like Ansel Adams, Robert Frost, Mark Twain, Orson Wells, Georgia O'Keefe and a few others in that select category. Eventually, their vast notoriety made them all seem trite, and even unfashionable. For instance, I suspect that for every aspiring photographer who wants to be able to make photos just like St Ansel, there are a dozen others who work tirelessly to reject everything about him. But these artists became popular because they were truly significant, not significant because they became popular, as our contemporary pop stars seem to have done (think Britney). Even though some of Wright's ideas were loopy in the extreme, and have rightfully gone the way of the Edsel, I feel that he had a lot of positive influence on architecture in the US. He's still worth studying, even if Simon and Garfunkel did write a sappy song about him.
Here's what stands out about Wright, in my own uneducated opinion. First, he thought of a building as the space it defined and expressed, rather than as a set of structural elements. He used the materials and techniques available to him to shape that space with very specific goals in mind. He didn't mind abandoning precedent, yet every single detail of his buildings was intended to evoke some fundamental feeling about the relationship between people and the space. Often, he worked especially hard to integrate the space into the environment around it. And finally, he had a certain Taoist genius in his sense of proportion that reaches in and grabs you at a level beneath consciousness. It's one of those things I can't put into words, but something most people sense intrinsically in the presence of his best work. I would say his buildings remind me of Bugatti car components: They look so "right" that they make everything else around them seem crude and vile by comparison. Feel free to argue or elaborate on that point if you wish. If you'd like to learn more about Wright and his "Organic Architecture" concept, check out this excellent link.
The Usonian houses were designed to be beautiful, yet relatively affordable. Most of them are pretty small by today's standards, but they are extremely tidy and efficient. Wright thought that building resources ought to be concentrated on the spaces where one actually spends most of one's time. This is something that appears to have not entered the minds of those developing today's McMansions, chock full, as they are, of semi-useless rooms. How many people ever use their formal living or dining rooms? Why do we need gigantic bathrooms? Perhaps people feel that they need these expensive appendices to prove that they are worthy of hosting large formal entertaining events.
At any rate, Wright was already dispensing with these things fifty years ago. Some of the other Usonian homes I've seen were of wood frame construction, but Cedar Rock has a steel frame, capped with a reinforced concrete roof. Wright did this so that he could use an enormous amount of glass in place of walls. The site overlooks an attractive river scene, and he wanted to maximize the views. In fact, a lot of excavation was required to frame the site lines just the way he wanted.
Although I was able to take pictures, a lot of brush and trees have grown up to obstruct the original views, so I haven't shown them here. Also, we had to stay in close conduct with the guide while inside, so I couldn't spend much time framing my shots the way I might have wanted. It was a blinding, hazy, yet cloud-free midday while we were there, so the light was very harsh and unappealing. With all that in mind, let's take a look.
(click on any of these pictures for a
bit larger version)
This house is shaped like a large "L". The long end is for the bedrooms and bathrooms, while the short end is the main living space. Above, we're looking down into the L from above and behind the house. At the far left, you can see the maid or guest quarters. That room is joined to the main building by a covered carport area. The room just to the right of the carport is the master bedroom. Next come two more bedrooms, and finally the living/dining area.
Now we're on the other side of the long part of the L. The carport is to the immediate right of this view. The walkway on the right side of the picture leads to a pair of entrances. One is for guests and visitors, and opens into the living area. The other is a private door that enters into the hallway back to the bedrooms. Apparently, Wright was extremely insistent on accurate brickwork here. At one point, he grabbed a trowel and started laying the bricks himself, to prove to the hired mason that they could be laid with the precision he specified.
Now we've come through the entry way, and are heading into the living area. The ceiling is pretty low here. Wright did that intentionally to lead one into the living space. A lot of people react very negatively to this arrangement today, possibly because we expect palatially dramatic "Gone With the Wind" entrances in typical suburban housing now. Wright's design is perfectly consistent with the Japanese idea of gradual transition between inside and outside. I don't know enough about Wright to say when he became aware of Japanese architectural practices, but his typical home entry detailing is a dead giveaway that he did. Note the light pouring in from above through the concrete roof. As designed, there was even more light available, but copper tunnels were added to the window openings in a recent restoration, to protect the concrete.
Here, we've come down the passage, past that portrait of Mr. Walter on the left, and turned slightly to the left. This is the main living area. Behind that screen/cabinet directly in front of us, you can just make out Mr Walter's piano. That area was roped off while we were there. Notice the how the ceiling appears to float over the room. The clerestories have opening panels to allow airflow when required. Remember, this thing was built before air conditioning came along, and it gets good and hot in Iowa in the summer. It was unusually hot the day we were there, but the house wasn't all that uncomfortable. You can see some of the floor here too. Wright ran a network of hot water piping under the floor to provide the small amount of heating you'd need in a summer place, but it's apparently not adequate to keep the place very warm in the winter. The concrete panels on top of the piping can be individually removed for repair or replacement.
I've moved a little further into the living area, and turned even further left for this shot. Now you can see the piano. There is a typical Wright fireplace at the very left of this view. Wright designed every piece of furniture here specifically for this house. Look at the way the top panel of each piece is routed to echo the shape of the exterior roof overhangs. You can also get a sense here of the way the glass walls reveal the view the Walters enjoyed so much.
Now I'm facing back towards the entry way. I really love the indoor garden here, but it would be pretty impractical for cat owners, to be sure. The guide told me that these are the original plants. About two years ago, they were starting to look quite bad, so the curators just cut them way back. The vine started to grow incredibly fast after that, and you can see that it already extends the whole way around the false ceiling again. Even though Wright eliminated the dining room, he still wanted the Walters to be able to entertain. So all of those small tables can be moved together to form larger eating accommodations. Sweet.
Looking further left, from pretty much the same position. You can see how that table links up with the built-in cabinet. Very nice. I see a lot of Japanese influence here too. Those little lighted niches are filled with pieces of colored glass that were just byproducts of industrial processes. Wright did the same thing in his own living spaces, although he often used priceless Asian artifacts in his own niches. That short end-table-ish thing in the background also pulls out further from the cabinet to provide more table space when needed. The passageway to its left leads to the kitchen. The mirror over that little bar really makes the place seem larger than it is. If I remember correctly, outside the bedrooms, the house is only 900 square feet.
Here's some detail of the retracting table area. I wanted to open up the cabinet above it to see if there was a shelf in there, but resisted the urge.
This was shot from the retracting table area, looking back to the right of the living area. This is some exquisite detailing, with the top shelf again echoing the roof profile.
Now I've walked through the passage into the kitchen. Wright and Mrs. Walter had a lot of disagreements about this room. Wright assumed that servants would do all the cooking, While Mrs. Walter insisted on doing it herself, and having all the latest appliances, including a dishwasher. What resulted from their tussle was perhaps one of the largest kitchens you'll find in a Usonian home. Most of them are small, uncomfortable affairs.
In Wright's defense, American cooking practices were fairly primitive in those days. Remember, Julia Child was still working for the OSS (precursor to the CIA) when this house was designed. Wright was most concerned about efficiency of work in his kitchens, and he wanted everything at hand, and short travel between things. We cook like gourmet chefs (and consume like kings) today, and most of us wouldn't be happy with a tiny kitchen. Iowa has done a remarkable job of preserving and restoring everything in this kitchen.
Passing through the kitchen, we reach the hallway that defines the private area of the house. On the left side of the hall are the bedrooms, on the right are plenty of built-in cabinets and shelves. This is a great way to control the clutter that could be a lot of trouble for a house this small. The hall would have been tomb-like, had Wright not provided a long bank of clerestories, and boxes for strong, indirect electric lights. These are clearly visible in this shot.
This is the first bedroom down the hall. Small, yet elegant. Private, yet connected to the outdoors.
Same bedroom, opposite side. There isn't enough storage space for all of Imelda Marcos' shoes, but plenty for what you might need for a summer vacation. You can make out the pull cord that controls the overhead lights. Apparently, Wright was satisfied with ordinary pull chains. Mr Walter was not. They spoke about it briefly, and then a few weeks later, a box of extremely expensive decorative replacements arrived from Asia. COD, of course.
This is the second bedroom. You'll notice that all of the soft surfaces throughout the house use the same fabric. After a half century of wear, the original cloth was in tatters. The curators tracked down the company that made the original fabric, and had them reproduce enough from the original patterns to restore the entire house. Bravo. There are only three colors of paint in the whole place as well. In addition to unifying the whole structure, it makes it a lot easier to maintain. The colors were chosen to match natural features of the site, which might explain why they don't seem outdated or kitschy now.
And finally the master bedroom. It had a bit more storage than the other two, but was still nothing like the barn-sized sleeping chambers they're putting in houses today. I'm told some of the tackier new housing around the country is even beginning to feature cooking facilities in the "master suite." I'd go for that, just after I installed a Steve Martin fur-lined sink.
I promised you some Wright loopiness, and here you go. In a bid to save every last inch of space, Wright installed this combination sink/shower/toilet contraption. It was manufactured for use in train sleeper cars. It proved to be both expensive and problematic, but Wright's buildings often had a kind of experimental quality to them.
The master bedroom is the last part of the main building on the long side of the L. This is the maid's quarters, or guest room, or whatever you want to call it. We couldn't get inside, but looking through the windows, it seemed to be consistent with the bedrooms. I think it may have also had a tiny kitchen, but we couldn't be sure.
This is the patio off the main living area. The wall facing us is the one that has the alcoves with colored glass. I like how the cantilevered roof provides the same quality of light and shade for the patio as it does for the interior. Once you open the doors, it must have blurred the distinction between inside and outside completely. Again, very consistent with Japanese practices.
The wall to the right is the part of the living area where the piano is. Wright absolutely hated downspouts, and tried to hide them in any way possible. That circular opening in the corner of the roof is a drain. There is grated drain in the ground beneath it connected to underground piping. Expensive, but gorgeous. I like to imagine Wright wanted to put Japanese rain chains in these roof drains.
This is that same side of the building, taken from further down the hill, on the way down to the river.
Wright built this little boat house for Mr Walter. The top floor has this screen porch, and a little office with a fireplace and a bed. There's even a little bathroom behind the office. Mr. Walter was a night owl, and liked to annoy his employees until well into the morning. My kind of guy.
Here's the boat house office. Completely integrated with the main building in terms of design.
This is the view of the boathouse from the river level. You can just see the rails and hauling equipment for the boat ramp around to the left.
Here we are facing the entry structure for the main house.
There aren't too many things about Cedar Rock that I could imagine needing improvement. One is the HVAC system. If you wanted to live in it year round, you'd need better heat, and maybe some A/C. Any additional air ducting would certainly spoil the design though. A lot of Wright's buildings suffer from inadequate environmental control, and huge expanses of plate glass don't improve the situation. Before modern utilities were invented, the Japanese figured there was no way they could make their homes comfortable year round. So they designed them to work in one season or another (usually the hot humid summer), and suffered through the rest (practically freezing in the winter). Taliesin has a very inadequate heating system, but Wright just moved his whole operation to Taliesin West (in Phoenix) in the winter anyway. The floor heating in the Usonians was an idea ahead of its time. My brother-in-law is a custom home builder, and he assures me that floor systems are so durable now that they will probably never need repairing, if they're installed correctly.
The woodwork would be incredibly expensive to reproduce today. Even if you could get the materials, the labor cost would be almost unthinkable. Wright liked to use inexpensive materials when he could in the Usonian homes. A lot of the later furniture he designed was even made of plywood. But I shudder at the idea of all the hand fitting that Cedar Rock must have required.
Oddly, in spite of being a car nut, Wright despised garages. Perhaps he disliked the way garage doors dominate a building face, as many of us do. In Iowa, you'd definitely prefer to keep your vehicle indoors during winter. Maybe a good architect could design an attractive detached garage for a house of this size (hint, hint).
The roof was in a sorry state until it was restored recently. Wright's imagination sometimes exceeded his engineering. Actually, he usually left the engineering work to his assistants. Late in life, much of it was handled by an MIT grad named Wes Peters. Wright and Peters really pushed the envelope of the technology available to them, and sometimes they went too far. Fallingwater had to almost be rebuilt to correct its structural problems. I'm just glad we live in a country where people don't mind paying dearly to preserve these places. Fortunately, Cedar Rock was made right by its current stewards.
I hope these pictures allow you to get a feel for the space in this gem, and how it was designed. Obviously, I could do a lot better if I had the freedom to shoot at the time of my own choosing. Feel free to contact me with thought or observations.
Wes