The Architect’s Newspaper reports that two “historic Brutalist” buildings in Trenton, N.J. are in the process of being demolished. The early 1960s buildings, which housed offices and labs of the state government, are the work of Alfred and Jane West Clauss, both partners in Clauss & Nolan. The German-born Alfred Clauss (1906-98) worked briefly for Mies on the Barcelona Pavilion and after emigrating to the U.S. he worked for George Howe on the PSFS Building and was one of the Philadelphians whom Howe brought to teach at Yale (Louis Kahn was another). Jane Clauss (1907-2003), born in Minneapolis, worked for Le Corbusier in Paris and met her husband when both were designing wartime housing for the TVA. The Trenton buildings are a cube and a cylinder clad in precast concrete panels. It is not clear what makes them historic. The Antique Automobile Club of America defines an antique car as over 25 years of age, so in that sense perhaps they qualify, and I suppose that like any old building they represent a historical moment. In this case, it was the time when architects turned away from the reductive minimalism of the International Style and began to experiment with facades of modeled concrete. Not exactly Brutalism, this was an awkward blend that even a master like Marcel Breuer could not always pull off. This bland and unappealing architecture failed to capture the public’s affection, which may explain why these buildings frequently fall victim to the wrecker’s ball.

Art Nouveau lasted only a few decades; it appeared around 1890 and came to an end shortly after the First World War. Perhaps for that reason, it is often given short shrift by art historians who see it as a not altogether respectable prelude to modernism. “With novelty [Art Nouveau] must most certainly be connected, and liberty at least in the sense of license is applicable too,” sniffed Nikolaus Pevsner, who called it “suspiciously sophisticated  and refined.” He did not explain why sophistication and refinement were disqualifying qualities. “Art Nouveau is outré and directs its appeal to the aesthete, the one who is ready to accept the dangerous tenet of art for art’s sake.” Pevsner wrote that in 1936. Fashions may be transitory but buildings last a long time. Eighty-five years later, art for art’s sake remains widely popular—Hector Guimard’s 1900 Metro stations are a cherished part of the Parisian streetscape—whereas it is the early work of the International Style that is outré, appealing not to the public but to the aesthete. The truth is that architectural movements should not be judged by the duration of their ascendancy, but rather by the duration  of their impact on society as a whole. By this measure such later short-lived flights of fancy as Art Deco and PWA Moderne likewise gain our respect. Brutalism and Postmodernism, not so much.

“I am not now and never have been a postmodernist,” said Robert Venturi twenty years ago; the quote appeared on the cover of the May 2001 issue of Architecture. But of course he was a postmodernist, although it is no wonder that he wanted to disassociate himself from that movement; after several decades PoMo had run its course, moreover in hindsight it appeared that it had done more harm than good. The best postmodernists had produced first-rate work—the Neue Staatsgalerie in Stuttgart, the Sainsbury Wing in London, the Beverly Hills Civic Center—but few architects were as historically knowledgable as James Stirling, Venturi, and Charles Moore—and in less capable hands PoMo was thin gruel indeed: an unconvincing blend of ersatz history and weak-kneed modernism. It’s easy to ridicule postmodernism today, but it is worth remembering what it was reacting against: lumbering Brutalism, warmed-over Mies, inept minimalism. Stirling was critical of modernist conventions: “The language itself was so reductive that only exceptional people could design modern buildings in a way that was interesting.” Postmodernism ultimately proved a failure as a broad-based movement—it turned out that only exceptional people could design interesting postmodern buildings, too. In that regard, it was much less successful than earlier short-lived architectural episodes such as Art Nouveau and Art Deco.

Last night I listened to an ICAA Zoom lecture by the architect Tom Kligerman, whose firm—Ike, Kligerman, Barkley—specializes in beautifully crafted houses, which were the subject of his talk: “New Thoughts on the American Home.” While many of the designs could be described as traditional, others were distinctly modern, and some were an eclectic combination of the two. Evidently catholic in its taste, IKB was clearly not committed to a canonic approach to the classical past. Kligerman observed that in his opinion architects should aim to make history, not simply be inspired by it. This has surely been the motivation of all creative architects over the years, whether they were Palladio, Edwin Lutyens, or Bertram Goodhue. All combined their historical interest with other influences; Veneto traditions in villas, Moghul motifs in New Delhi, and Middle Eastern architecture in the Nebraska capitol. Not wedded to the past but using it as a springboard to move forward.

Photo: Modern Farmhouse, Princeton (IKB Architects)