Structure can be decisive in the configuration of architectural space, we should value structural constraints as design opportunities, when starting a project we love to research through nature behaviors that works as key of design process.
This is the case of “water lily pad” Wright experimented on this building in early 30s at Wisconsin.
Lets get a glimpse of Johnson Wax Building, certainly a Frank Lloyd Wright’s masterpiece in which architecture experimented with organic concepts where natural light and open space are plenty combined in 1930′s.
Indeed, the most challenging space designed was the main great workroom 40 x 60 m. wide with 6 m. tall articulated by concrete dendriform columns with a base of only 23 centimeters in diameter that was widened to reach 5.5 meters in the upper part, which Wright called “water lily pad” capable of supporting six times the weight imposed upon them, a fact Wright had to demonstrate in order to obtain a building permit.
He conceived interior spaces whithout constrictions, this is a grateful solution for workers which want to feel the sense of freedom while working.
as Wright described “..There you catch no sense of enclosure whatever at any angle, top or sides….Interior space comes free, you are not aware of any boxing in at all. Restricted space simply is not there. Right there where you’ve always experienced this interior constriction you take a look at the sky!” (1)
Wright defines architecture as “The great living creative spirit which from generation to generation, from age to age, proceeds, persists and creates according to the nature of man and his circumstances as they change. ” (2)
(1)—Frank Lloyd Wright. from Bruce Brooks Pfeiffer and Gerald Nordland, ed. Frank Lloyd Wright: In the Realm of Ideas. p15.
(2) — Frank Lloyd Wright from Bruce Brooks Pfeiffer and Gerald Nordland, ed. Frank Lloyd Wright: In the Realm of Ideas. p7.
Images through wikipedia, urbipedia, wikiarquitectura, archdaily, library of congress
im rly excited i have a job interview to work in this cafe/pastry section of organic roots and they make all these yummy looking pastries and treats and they have an espresso machine and everything is very vegan and gluten free friendly im so PUMPED
In this series, we ask one of our Company Members to share a piece of their artistic growth, highlighting creative influences which continue to nurture the artist they are today.
Without a doubt, one of my top five artistic influences was our production of Bartleby. It was the Organic's organic creation of a vaudevillian clown drama. That's right, clown drama.
Don't get me wrong, there have been so many influences to my artistry, most of which I'm only subconsciously aware. But Bartleby stands out not because of the work that was done -- it was brilliant, mind you (or so I'm told) -- but because of the process we found to tell this incredible story: a process that has influenced and shaped every piece of work I've done since.
In the production, my character, The Master in Chancery, hires a new Scrivener to assist with the books after a recent promotion quadruples the workload of the office. Choosing only to respond with the words "I prefer not to," Bartleby slowly prefers not to check his work, then do his work, then to be fired, and eventually prefers not to be alive. The original story by Herman Melville, in a beautifully omnipotent way, explores how the addition of this stubborn obelisk in the corner slowly erodes the sanity of those around him. But how to put that on stage....
So. If you've ever read Melville, he is a man of many words. Many, many words. Thick, over-wrought, molasses-like diatribes, where he artfully uses as many words containing eight or more syllables where and whenever possible. In an effort to contain this show into an hour and a half, we had to tweak this story a bit. We also had to find a way to tell a story so dry and heavily narrated that at times, little was left to the imagination. While Bartleby remains one of the most sincere and touching short stories I've ever read, the idea of putting it on stage in an interesting and engaging way struck me as problematic.
Over the six month rehearsal period (or was it nine...?), under the direction of our Artistic Director Alex Gelman, we tried everything. Perhaps even a kitchen sink was involved. Eventually, some very clear rules began to rise out of the process, which I wrote down for myself, lovingly titled "The Organic Process," and have used in every production since. This is in no way some doctrine that dictates my work, nor are the ideas contained in any way original. But as a core to a process with no answers (as it is every time an actor approaches a new role or a company approaches a new work), these guidelines have been indispensable.
1. Never, ever, ever. Ever. Never ever try to be interesting. What is interesting to you is probably only that.
2. If your character says you did something or you are doing something, do something else. Striking at the very heart of indication-sauce (the ectoplasm sprayed all over the acting studio or audience when an actor completes an action, which they are simultaneously doing that action while winking at the audience through the fourth wall), this single point can allow an actor to tell a far more complicated story.
3. If you absolutely must physically do something described on the page, then cut the text! We all know you can't rewrite a script. But believe me when I share this with you--Shakespeare never wrote the line "I walked down the street" while the actor must also show the audience on the stage how he or she walked down that street (see point #2 above). Just say the text. But in the case of the short story translation, since I probably have to walk down that street anyway, I don't also explain the action to the audience.
4. There is no such thing as a bad idea. Only ideas that seem like a good idea on Monday and you can't remember how it worked on Wednesday. We rehearsed and cut and trimmed "Bartleby" for the better part of six months, maybe as much as nine. During that period, ideas were thrown out about everything from puppet pirate ships, to ultra-realist silent film, to Rat-Fink-style sets. Every idea was tested; the ones that we felt told the story were developed to find continuity in the story, after which we moved on. When we revisited the section again later in the week, if it was no longer congruent with the rest of the story, we couldn't piece it together with the multitude of notes taken by everyone in the room, or we simply couldn't remember what we did, then we threw out the idea and started that beat over.
5. Don't sigh. This one is more of a personal note to myself than anything. Whenever an actor sighs, they sit down, take in a big breath of air, and release all tension, thought, and momentum from the play. Don't reset the action by clearing your head. As it pertains to Bartleby, this was a repeated offense every time a new chapter was reached.
6. The truth of the moment and how it is connected to the theme is king. Don't ever lose sight of the story you're trying to tell. If what I'm saying does nothing to move the story forward, then what I'm doing is wrong. And we all might absolutely love the puppet pirate ships that appear out of nowhere and sink the island represented by a bowler hat, but if no one can tell you what purpose that vignette serves, then all that moment is is interesting. And in the context of the play, probably isn't interesting. It's probably confusing, frustrating, and successfully ejects the audience from whatever story you were trying to tell.
What we discovered through this process was our production of Bartleby: a vaudevillian clownish romp in the style of the Magritte's The Son of Man, which told the story of what happens when an innocuous response becomes an insurmountable obstacle. But most of all, we found a way for our theater company, our family, to develop a piece of absurdist truism, to "organically" develop any piece that speaks to us on the deepest level and find some way to share that message with the rest of our family: the audience that comes out to see us every year.
For more information about Bryan, you can read his bio here.
In this series, we ask one of our Company Members to share a piece of their artistic growth, highlighting creative influences which continue to nurture the artist they are today.
As an incurably romantic and restless soul, I'm not really sure I would have fit into any world other than the Theater.
Growing up, I could be a difficult kid, in that I really hated labels and straightforward answers. If I got in trouble for anything, it was the constant questioning of everything in subjects and ideas that really interested me. I also found that I felt more in myself when I was pretending to be someone else and exploring dramatic situations in my mind.
When I was eight years old, I was in my first play: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with Jigsaw Theater, directed by Aimee Richards. I played one of the minor grandpas in the show (not the main one) – offbeat casting from a young age right there. Performing was so instantly gratifying that I didn't need to analyze why I felt good doing it, it just felt right.
From my perspective, this company has always operated with one through-line: good work. Hard work. Challenging and provocative work. The combined efforts of everyone to produce the work. Restless questions that need to be asked. ...
What stays with me are things people say after seeing Organic shows. Things like, "I thought about what the author said in that play for weeks" or "Thank you for starting Christmas for me with that play" or "He wasn't just a villain or a jerk was he?" Now and then, you receive those comments from the work you've presented that make your artistic life worthwhile.
On the flip side, I have certainly chosen to do things that have provoked "Huhs?" from a lot of people in working with Organic and with others in the Chicago area. That's part of the fun of working out here, storefront or otherwise: continuing to provoke discussion and emotional responses to storytelling, however unconventional the story or telling may be. I'm more interested in questions than answers.
It's an interesting left turn for me to be putting my energies, questions and focus (read: angst) towards the next project: Assistant Directing "The Diviners" by Jim Leonard Jr. I'm very grateful for this new opportunity.
It's funny how certain moments in life and art tend to come full circle... This play reminds me of the world I came from, of things in myself and in my art that I've been avoiding for whatever reason. This includes the small town setting and the frustrations therein, a specific and non-judgmental view of the religious mindset, and especially the simplicity of a positive view of love and friendship, without irony or crass. I couldn't be more excited to tell this story with the people we've brought together.
Being in Organic really is an ideal artistic situation for a guy like me, and I'm excited to keep exploring. I owe a lot to them, to my family, and to every teacher I've had in every subject. I'm still restless these days, but I can't think of a more fulfilling way to put that to work than with this company. With the wear and tear of time I believe that we only get richer, and so does the work. I very much look forward to see where this show will take us.
For more information about Colin, you can read his bio here.