FALLINGWATER: A MOST EXTRAORDINARY HOUSE & VISIT

Even before I could see the house, I could hear the soothing sound of the falling water.  That sound dominated the dense woods surrounding Bear Run; and every square foot of Frank Lloyd Wright's 20th century masterpiece, Fallingwater.   

I fell in love with this romantic woodland retreat; and like any lady, to reveal all  when it comes to my experience lacks a certain, shall we say, sophistication.  Let me clarify that statement.  I can paint all the word pictures I like when it comes to my experience at Fallingwater, but any and all photographs taken during my visit are strictly for personal use only, as per the conditions of the Western Pennsylvania Conservancy that granted me access to this stunning weekend retreat. 

That access is part of the terms that came with the house and its contents when it was bequeathed to the conservancy in 1963 by the family that had commissioned Wright to design their weekend home.  Along with Fallingwater and the 5000 acres of  the land and watershed that had been the inspiration for this National Landmark came the stipulation the gift should be shared with all who wished to learn from and appreciate this 8th wonder of the world.     

So, pictures will be sparse.  But . . . where there's a will, there's a way; even for ladies! 

That way is called the Internet!  To set the mood, I've included a stunning YouTube Video of Fallingwater (in an alternative universe!) to accompany my word pictures and those I borrowed from the Internet.  So, to clarify, all pictures (except one) posted today are not mine, but those of the public domain.  Thanks Wikipedia!

Despite having seen pictures of Fallingwater prior to my visit to southwest Pennsylvania, it was still unbelievable, standing downstream from that iconic house, witnessing first hand the wonder and spectacle of this extraordinary house seemingly floating above the falls.  

Wow! My image looked an awful lot like this one I snatched from Wikipedia's public domain.

I understood suddenly in a way I never had before that Frank Lloyd Wright’s architecture is as much about function as it is form; as much about shelter as it is about a connection to the land on which that shelter is placed.  Wright had redefined the relationship between man, architecture, and nature, revealing and intensifying nature through his art, particularly this National Landmark. 

I found his art intensely moving!

Fallingwater was certainly much, much more than the small rustic cabin (no heat and no running water) that Edgar J. Kaufmann Sr. had decided no longer suited his family's needs when he commissioned the then 67-year-old Frank Lloyd Wright (FLW) to build something more substantial in 1935.   

Here's the man of the hour, Frank Lloyd Wright.

Edgar had the means and tenacity to handle a man of FLW's reputation.  As owner and president of Pittsburgh's prestigious Kaufmann's Department Store (now owned by Macy's; of course!), Edgar shared Wright's conviction that good design could transform the lives of those it touched.  Kaufmann knew the price of working with genius and had ready cash to pay for his convictions despite the Depression gripping the country; and despite the notorious behavior of an aging and cantankerous architect who seemed, by some accounts, to be approaching the end of a long and illustrious career. 

Ironically, Fallingwater would prove to be the pinnacle of Wright's career and Edgar's social standing. Some say Edgar was looking for respect from the Mellons and Carneiges of Pittsburgh's high society, the same society that excluded Jews from the elite social and sporting clubs of the day, when Edgar commissioned Wright to build his weekend home.  Wright, as usual, was looking to indulge his experimental abstractions of form from situation and purpose. 

You guessed it; public domain.

Both got what they wanted and then some by the time the house was completed in 1938, Kaufmann for the small price of $155,000, Wright for an $8000 commission.  Edgar, his wife  Liliane, and their son Edgar jr. (junior's preference for the lower case j, not mine) made it clear from the onset of their relationship with FLW that nature should be at the heart of their new weekend home. It goes without saying (although I’ll say it anyway!) that Wright was known for having an intuitive understanding of how a building’s design could satisfy our common  physical and psychological needs for dwelling and  shelter.  

The Kaufmanns had expected their new weekend home would be orientated to offer the best view of the waterfall that had drawn them to the site in Bear Run.  Wright’s genius was in his sensitivity towards the land; in his feeling that buildings should appear to grown naturally from their surroundings as well as celebrate native materials.  Undoubtedly this is why FLW placed Fallingwater (his name for his creation) on top of the 30-foot falls, so that the dwelling would be as much a part of the site as the rocks and river that distinguished the spot.

The house seemed to float above the falls. Never mind one stairway did just that, led down to within inches of the water’s edge where, had I been allowed, I could have dangled my tootsies in the cool waters that had been the inspiration for this masterpiece.

Photo courtesy of Tim Darling at http://www.amnesta.net.

It wasn’t until I’d stepped inside this organic piece of architecture that I felt the powerful forces at play between the house and its surroundings: the sound and smell of  the waterfall on which the house rested; the feel of moisture and movement from those falls; FLW’s clever use of abstract visuals (the strong horizontal lines, the narrow hallways that opened into low ceilinged rooms, all of which offered beautiful vistas of the wooded site, the site-quarried natural stone, the simplicity of the furnishings); all served to anchor the house to its surroundings while emphasizing those luminous surroundings.

Main room looking towards hearth and dining room.

Main room looking south towards the terrace.

Standing in the midst of this symbiotic relationship, I truly understood the genius of FLW’s vision.  The sound of that water seemed to slow time; my breathing slowed, too, to match time in this new dimension.  Fallingwater was indeed the consummate romantic experience, a place of peace that drew from a corner of the world that was all about nurturing the heart and mind as well as the soul.

To quote Edgar Kaufmann, jr., FLW “captured the perfect essence of our desire to live with nature, to dwell in a forested place and be at home in the natural world.” 

It seemed only natural that Fallingwater had grown around a massive natural-sandstone outcropping that began at the hearth.  That natural outcropping was evident in two large stones that were part of the floor in front of the fireplace. 

Wright had always seen the fireplace as primordial, the focal point where family could derive a sense of emotional and physical comfort.  The fireplace was obviously a great place for mulling wine on cold winter days, too. The red, cast-iron kettle could be swung out to the center of the almost six-foot tall opening for the fireplace; who wouldn’t find the heady mix of medieval magic and 19th century romanticism as intoxicating as the mulled wine.  
 
Every room in the house played to the grace and grandeur inside and out; Wright used only two paint colors throughout the house - Cheeroke red for the steel and a light ochre for the concrete.  Every room in the house boasted the site-quarried stone, its horizontal lines grounding the structure to the land on which it had been built, hinting at the main attraction just beyond the confines of the house.

Each of the four modest bedrooms had its own terrace; the only room that didn’t offer a view of the falls had its own spring-fed swimming  pool.

The cantilevered terraces, a daring innovation at the time, accounted for almost half of the 5330 square feet of living space in the main house.     

You didn't believe me when I said the house grew right out of the rocks?

The 1700 square foot servant quarters and three-car parking bay included one more guest bedroom; the secondary building was completed in 1939 and is just up the hill from the main house. 

Okay, I think I can get by with posting this one picture of me and Jimmy at the entrance to Fallingwater.

One visit obviously wouldn't do Fallingwater justice.  To really appreciate Kaufmann's weekend home (and I do, if I haven't made that abundantly clear) I guess I'm going to have to return again and again and again; at least three more times. 

I think fall would be stunning; winter a study in contrasts.  To see and hear the woods come alive again with the hope of yet another spring would be glorious from that magnificent vantage point above the falls.  It was obvious the woodlands were green with envy at having to share all the attention they'd heretofore singularly received during the summer months when we made our visit. 

I hope to return again one fall day when the woods are ablaze with color, the air cool and crisp with the hint of change and the falls still alive with the sound of music.     

I also hope to return tomorrow with the story behind the story.  Many thought FLW's design risky (Kaufmann could be included in that count) if not completely flawed.  Also, I had no idea when we visited Fallingwater that the Kaufmanns (father, mother, and son) are still very much a part of their beloved weekend home.  

The plot thickens!