There are more tunnels and round things where this came from: see  y o u h a v e b e e n h e r e s o m e t i m e. This photo originally via OWI.

Not a rhetorical question. This is a hodgepodge sample, for sure, and spans decades, but all of it seems to partake of some form or other of adventurousness. It’s possible I’m projecting, and that my view of Australia is entirely filtered through my childhood fixation on that girl in National Geographic who crossed the outback on camels. But I doubt it. Above are from the National Archives of Australia appearing in the Heide Museum of Modern Art’s exhibit Modern Times: the untold story of modernism in Australia. Top: ‘A modernist vision of Australia: Grant and Mary Featherston’s wing sound chairs were a feature of the Australian Pavilion, designed by architect James Maccormick with exhibits selected by Robin Boyd, at Expo 67 in Montreal, 1967′ and ‘View of the elevated restaurant, Centenary Pool, Brisbane’ by James Birrell. Most images below are from desire to inspire, the half-Australian blog. House directly below is the Wheatsheaf House. House in woods below by Drew Heath; room with screen, photo by Lucas Allen; geometric bedroom by Greg Natale; provenance of last 3 photos is lost, please advise; last photo is room by Marion Hall Best, considered the mother of modern Australian interior design.

Vancouver curator Scott Watson’s essay Urban Renewal: Ghost Traps, Collage, Condos and Squats is part of the impressive and totally compelling Vancouver Art in the Sixties website project. It’s a well-organized archive of Vancouver’s 1960s art production and it’s far too large a topic for one post. What I found immediately interesting though was Watson’s historical contextualization of residential architecture and interior aesthetics in the 60s, especially its turn away from modernist minimalism and toward more baroque historical styles. He suggests that the Edwardian bric-a-brac and Art Nouveau styles that were adopted by Vancouver’s arts and hippie communities in the 60s were a reaction against the City of Vancouver’s move to demolish the crumbling inner-city Edwardian houses, which housed its art and social protest, and replace them with corporate architectural brutalism and strata-controlled condos. This was no doubt replayed in cities all across North America. Watson’s essay is particularly interesting in light of the current revival of Edwardian/Victorian granny chic in interior design and craft. It seems to me this is revival without any politics, but I could be wrong. In many cases it seems the farthest thing from radical, however you understand that word, but it could also be an echo of a similar problem in urban planning. Photo above by Michael de Courcy shows a screening on December 31, 1969 of a collaborative video at Vancouver’s Intermedia art centre.

The following are excerpts from Watson’s essay (click the link at top for the whole text).

“At the advent of what we now call postmodernism, the doomed Edwardian building inventory that provided bohemia’s living, studio and event spaces also provided an aesthetic opposed to Brutalism, the heavy concrete fortress style of public buildings that had arisen in response to the riots and demonstrations of the 60s. Late Victorian and Edwardian furniture and bric-a-brac furnished communal houses. In these spaces Art Nouveau was revived and deployed to advertise concerts and events. Rejection of the “brutality of the new” was, in essence, a very real concern about the disappearance of places to live, eat, congregate, exhibit and perform. In defnse of a crumbling inventory of modest, poorly built pioneer-era wooden and brick structures, the art community of the day rejected not only the Brutalist idioms of the 1960s and 1970s, but the gentler suburban modernism of the 1940s and 1950s. Or to be more precise, the authoritarian, normalizing, “design for living” modernism, with its unarticulated suppression of libidinal circulation, was an anathema for the generation of the 1960s and 1970s. The hippie movement as appropriated by fashion and popular music adopted Edwardian and Art Nouveau as its style of protest and renunciation of consumer/spectacle society.” [This excerpt was the last paragraph of several excerpts below. Click for more.]

Art Nouveau-influenced Doors poster by Bob Masse, Vancouver, 1967. Below, Bob Masse, William Tell & the Marksmen Great White Light, Vancouver, 1960s.

Will your home be next? Poster by Don Gutstein, poster, Vancouver, 1975

(more…)

Why can’t cooperative housing look like this more often? The Avenel Cooperative Housing Project in LA’s Silver Lake neighbourhood, supposedly built either for “a bunch of communists” or for a “group of motion picture cartoonists and their families” (click above for informative Wikipedia article) was affordable when it was built in 1947 and of course is now ridiculously expensive. It was designed by architect Gregory Ain for a group of ten families who each contributed $11,000. Ain built ten three-bedroom units of 960 sq ft (89 sq m), each positioned along a common path. They were meant to be a model for low-cost housing, but these particular units have proven so well-designed and constructed that they’re now too prized to be affordable. Someone needs to copy these, both for their looks and for the fact that though a relatively small square footage for a family, they’re so well-laid out that they apparently feel spacious. See comments here for a possible explanation why. As a plan for affordable urban living these days, it’s unlikely that a single storey would now be considered an efficient use of an expensive urban lot. Or would it? Photos from LA Curbed. See also the LA Times and here.

This closet/dressing room is part of a townhouse on NYC’s West Side. The house was decorated by interior designer Samuel Botero in a mad eclectic mix of all possible ornate styles, including Egyptian Revival and Biedermeier and art deco, at his clients’ request. The rest of the place is very dark velvet/chairs with paws/animal print/excess, but then suddenly in the middle of it all there’s this bright fantastical room which actually transcends the general madness of the house and achieves something mythic. I could do without the black cloverleaf casket thing with the ribbon-motif and weird silhouettes, which Botero designed himself, though I suppose it would come in handy for conducting seances while also storing hatboxes or maybe the skeletal remains of small children. But Botero gets credit for extreme daring and for the genius use of emerald green and cream, and all joking aside I sincerely admire the way he just let his imagination run wild, if not amok. This is the sort of room that demands that you re-decorate yourself to match. You’ll need an entirely new period wardrobe, an upgrade from monomania to megalomania, and whatever exotic pet affectation strikes your fancy – an emerald green parrot maybe, or a talking owl. Or an albino cheetah, why not. And a leprechaun. They love hats. Photo by Phillip H. Ennis, via the ever strange AD.

The movie version of Valley of the Dolls was based on Jacqueline Susann’s 1966 novel of ambition, drug addiction and dissipation in the mid-60s entertainment industries of LA and New York. What is it with Hollywood film’s predictable bias that modern decor, or lofts, or any kind of contemporary design will go hand and hand with dissipation, dysfunction and general immorality? It’s convenient shorthand for the idea of In every dreamhome, a heartache. Sure, this tacit argument might contain a smidgen of truth, since despite its supposed democratic intent high modern midcentury design was often an indicator of way too much money, but Hollywood’s bias probably also belies a completely parochial conservatism. The protagonist’s relieved, happy return to the small Vermont town of her birth is proof of this pat little moral. I love a lot of the film’s modern interiors, their mix of modern furniture and contemporary and Asian art, their colour, their airiness and their postwar optimism. And all their ashtrays. You’ve never seen so much smoking in your life.