 |
|
|||||||||||||||||||
|
||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
 With Bassett's gracious permission, Metropolis is pleased to publish some highlights from the Florence Knoll Bassett papers, along with personal anecdotes from the archives.
I learned about Kingswood shortly before the time that I was to be sent to boarding school. My guardian offered me choices. Kingswood was the first school I visited. It was such a unique and beautiful place that I had no trouble making an immediate decision. When I arrived for the school year in 1932, I met Rachel de Wolfe Raseman, the art director of Kingswood and a graduate architect from Cornell University. She guided me into the world of architecture and design. I learned the basics of planning and drafting, and my first project was to design a house. The project took as much time as I could spare away from my other studies to draw the plans and elevations and make a model. The interiors were a part of the project.
Letters from Eero Saarinen Eero Saarinen spent a year in Helsingfors working for an architectural firm. It is obvious from his illustrated letters that he preferred drawing to the written word. We all enjoyed the results. The letter about a skiing weekend in Lapland is an example. He refers to Marianne Strengell, who later came to the United States to become director of the weaving department at the Cranbrook Art Academy. After Cranbrook After two years at the Art Academy, it was time to move on for a more formal education at a qualified architectural school. I spent the next two years at the Architectural Association, where the work of Le Corbusier was very influential. At the outbreak of World War II, the American ambassador mandated that all students return to the United States. I called Marcel Breuer, and was apprenticed with Gropius and Breuer in Cambridge until I entered Illinois Institute of Technology to complete my training and receive an architectural degree. Mies van der Rohe had a profound effect on my design approach and the clarification of design. After my return to New York I worked in several architectural offices, and being the only female, I was assigned to do the few interiors required. That was how I met Hans Knoll, who was beginning his furniture business. He needed a designer to do interiors, and eventually I joined him. This was the beginning of the Planning Unit. Our major work was for government commissions related to the war effort. After the war we were asked to design government projects and produce furniture and fabrics in Europe using counterpart dollars. Hans always had plans for Knoll in Europe, and this project eventually gave the impetus to form European companies--and finally Knoll International. In 1955 a tragic accident happened in Cuba when he was on a business trip. After his death I became president of the company, with my usual emphasis on all phases of design leaving the business matters to others. In 1958 I married Harry Hood Bassett and divided my time between New York and Florida until my resignation in 1965.
The 12 x 12 office was designed for Hans Knoll in 1950 when we moved to 575 Madison and space was at a premium. The parallel or L-shaped plan made sense, and it saved square-footage. This convinced our corporate clients who were satisfied to move from the diagonal plan, with a solid desk in front and a table behind. Having the storage in a cabinet freed the design to become a conference table. The designs emerged in many shapes--round, oval, boat-shaped, and oblong--according to the plan. When computer equipment arrived on the scene the workspace switched to having the cabinet behind--a complete evolution of design--which began in the late forties, more than fifty years ago. Private offices came first and then the open office areas with the development of paneled workstations.
I was fortunate to be chosen to design the floor for the Rockefeller brothers in Rockefeller Center, in about 1946. It was one of my first early projects, and they were wonderful clients. The furniture was custom-made of fine woods and materials, but everything was low-key. Nelson had one request, and that was to keep his existing inkwell because he liked the pen. The problem was that it was made of some plastic like Bakelite and looked very out of place. I solved the problem by calling on my friend Isamu Noguchi to carve a cover for the offending inkwell, making a small sculpture of solid English oak. Everyone was happy with this unique piece.
The Planning Unit began when I joined Hans Knoll at 601 Madison. In spite of the size of some of the projects, such as Connecticut General, the group never exceeded six to eight designers. We somehow managed to get the job done on time. I don't think I could have worked with a larger group. Heino Orro, Joe Whited, and Lou Butler were with the P.U. until I resigned in 1965. Peter Andes, also a P.U. member, called it "Shu U." as other young designers were siphoned off by architectural firms who began to start their own interior-design divisions. SOM New York was the first, after our collaboration, when I was hired by Frazar Wilde of Connecticut General to do the interiors. He said he wanted an "independent voice."
Herbert Matter was the graphic designer for Knoll. He gave it visual identity in all phases of the printed material. His design for the Knoll "K" became an international symbol. His advertisements were striking, and clearly gave the visual message at a glance with minimal text and occasionally with wry humor. He loved to use our Old English Sheepdog in his photographs, and Cartree happily cooperated as he enjoyed being the center of attention. On one occasion we went to a party at Herbert and Mercedes Matter's house. I found myself sitting next to a man with huge dark-rimmed glasses who was staring intently at Cartree lying in the middle of the room. He finally turned to me and asked "Is that your dog?" When I said yes, he paused a few seconds and said, "You should buy him a zipper so he can take off his coat when he comes in the house." It was Saul Steinberg, and we were friends thereafter.
The spaces for Knoll showrooms were as diversified as their locations--from commercial buildings on Madison Avenue in New York and the Merchandise Mart in Chicago to a small house in Dallas and a restored nineteenth-century broom factory in San Francisco. The design problems with each varied as much as their locations. The most difficult was the Madison Avenue high-rise, and the most fun was the broom factory in San Francisco. The object was to maintain a Knoll identity with different solutions in interior architecture. New York Showroom 1951 Working with the problems of a poorly proportioned space complicated by two levels of low ceilings and unfortunately placed columns was a serious challenge in the design of our new showroom at 575 Madison Avenue. The answer was a black metal "cage" that delineated and redefined the space. It also supported the colored panels for the display areas. The blue ceiling also within the framework gave the illusion of height to the existing ceiling. The abundance of natural light from the outer walls was softened with fiberglass panels and mesh. Chicago Showroom 1953 The Chicago showroom in the Merchandise Mart was visually the opposite of New York. There was no natural light, and the ceilings were high, with exposed ducts and pipes with the front glass wall facing the busy corridor. The walls and ceilings were painted in matte black, and the space was delineated with a white frame--a negative to New York's positive. The lighting accented the displays with pools of light, so the surrounding black walls disappeared. The wall panels were of cherry wood or translucent fiberglass with cherry-wood frames. The floor was oak. The materials gave warmth and created a special atmosphere within the black void. San Francisco Showroom 1954 The building was basically simple and a delight to work with. I loved its straightforward construction. The shoe-box shape was divided into pleasant proportions by adding the balcony area. San Francisco's atmosphere suggested something light and airy, while the basic structure suggested something informal. This was a departure from the formal designs of New York and Chicago. Note: Planter box on balcony used instead of a railing. I doubt I would get away with it years later. Corporate Design From the early days of the Planning Unit, there were many types of projects for universities, hospitals, hotels, and other institutions. The major work, however, was for corporate offices. One of our principal clients throughout the years was CBS, starting with remodeling their executive offices on Madison Avenue in 1952 and continuing to their corporate headquarters building designed by Eero Saarinen in 1965.
Connecticut General was completed in 1956. It was built on 280 acres in a rural setting on a lake with recreational areas and several service buildings grouped around an interior courtyard designed by Isamu Noguchi. We were called upon to design interiors for the entire complex, which was designed by Skidmore, Owings & Merrill, Architects. "The board room without a board table" was a successful experimental idea of Frazar Wilde's (on the top floor of the executive building). CBS In reviewing my work over the years, I find that I really enjoyed the challenge of difficult design problems found in older buildings as opposed to more modern modular construction. A case in point was the renovation of the CBS offices on Madison Avenue. They were located in an older building that presented innumerable problems, such as awkward structural situations, poor fenestration, and other disadvantages. Struggling with them created interesting design results.
The plan of the office suite of Jack Heinz showing the presentation method using actual fabrics. It was extraordinary how small swatches of fabrics and wood could convey a feeling of the space. I always felt the need to employ this system, which eventually was used by design offices as a standard. I actually started to do this at the Architectural Association in London and developed it further when the Planning Unit was formed at Knoll. The conference room of the suite.
When I learned about an ordinance that would permit billboards along I-95, SR-112, and SR-836, I knew some action had to be taken. I began by calling upon my friends--architects, designers, lawyers, and CEOs. I also involved environmentalists, former commissioners (honest ones), and the media. Both TV stations and the Miami Herald were very supportive and produced editorials against the ordinance. Many organizations joined in the effort as well. I produced a card with a cutout addressed to the CAEB at a private postal box. We had the cards distributed by volunteers at the exits of supermarkets and malls. The response was huge--these were presented to the commissioners at city hall the day of the vote. The place was packed to full capacity for the CAEB. Many prominent citizens of the Miami community gave very convincing arguments against the ordinance. As there were obvious payoffs involved we didn't win completely, but cut the number of billboards about 80 to 85 percent. At a later date some of those commissioners were indicted and jailed for fraud. We had a victory of sorts. The effort took about one month. I got an ulcer--but it was worth it. It was my one and only venture into politics. |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
