Blue Dream is a house designed by Diller Scofidio + Renfro for Julia “Julie” Reyes Taubman and her husband Robert “Bobby” Taubman. The house, located in East Hampton, on the South Fork of Long Island, was completed in 2017, nearly 30 years after the architects were commissioned to design their first house on Long Island, the Slow House. A book devoted to Blue Dream, written by Paul Goldberger, was released last month by DelMonico Books.
Like other architects educated in the United States in the early 1990s, the architecture of Elizabeth Diller and Ricardo Scofidio was an inspiration to me. Diller + Scofidio had built very little then, but their beautiful drawings and means of presenting them exhibited a clear desire to build. The only constructing they did then was temporary, almost exclusively in theaters and galleries. Even without a building to their name, their first monograph,
Flesh: Architectural Probes, was published in 1994 (the butt cheeks on the front and back covers and
butt-crack binding set it apart from every other architecture book). A standout project, coming near at the end of the monograph, is the Slow House, which had already brought D+R attention when it won a P/A Award and graced the cover of
Progressive Architecture’s January 1991 issue (PDF link).
The Slow House arcs and expands in plan from a single front door to a two-story picture window facing the water (locals referred to it as a banana). Of relevance here is the house’s site in North Haven, Long Island, and the view through the picture window of Long Island Sound. The view’s importance is accentuated by a second chimney, opposite a functioning chimney, that would have held a video camera framing the water view for the owners to look at while in the house or back in Manhattan. Page 229 in Flesh shows a photograph of the Slow House taking shape, the formwork for its foundation walls and columns ready to be filled with concrete. Alas, that photo captured the furthest extent of construction: the house was a victim of insufficient assets and the early 90s recession, never to be completed.
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L: Slow House drawing in the collection of MoMA. R: Slow House under construction in 1991. |
I never knew exactly why the Slow House wasn’t completed, but Paul Goldberger reveals some of the story in
Blue Dream, writing that “the house was to be funded by the sale of two Cy Twombly drawings.” The collapse of the art market kept that from happening, but the importance of Slow House can be found in the Museum of Modern Art’s acquisition of the project’s drawings and models for its permanent collection. The most iconic piece is a floor plan and series of building sections drawn on a transparent sheet over wood with what appears to be a schmear of joint compound. Moving from the view in the rearview mirror to the view through the picture window, the sections radiate from the floor plan, in a sequence that is logical yet confounding, given how the sections overlap as they increase in height. Most remarkable is the way the drawing implements remain part of the presentation, and how the compass armature is a custom creation, what I see as a clear extension of Diller’s education and Scofidio’s teaching at Cooper Union. Needless to say, I was chuffed to see the drawing in person back in 2013, when Pedro Gadanho pulled it out of the MoMA archives for
Cut ‘n’ Paste: From Architectural Assemblage to Collage City.
Goldberger mentions Slow House in a chapter of
Blue Dream that finds Julie and Bobby considering Diller Scofidio + Renfro for their East Hampton house. Charles Renfro, who joined Diller + Scofidio in 1997 and became a name partner in 2004, recounts to Goldberger their initial meeting with Julie at their office, in 2010, when they showed her Slow House “and our small residential oeuvre of mostly unbuilt houses.” While hearing “unbuilt” would push most clients to look for another architect, Julie was not a typical client. A few years before the meeting, the Taubmans held an invited design competition, with Thomas Phifer standing out above Shigeru Ban, whose design was “remarkable” but impractical and “more suited to a house in the tropics,” and Tod Williams and Billie Tsien, whose design was “more restrained and perhaps less daring than what [Julie] wanted.” Phifer sensed that Julie wanted something more sculptural than his first scheme, with three linear pavilions connected by glass-enclosed walkways, so over time it morphed into
striking sail-like forms appropriate to its site on the dunes facing the Atlantic. But designing and building a house, architecturally daring or not, is as much about personal relationships as it is about architectural design. Phifer and Julie Taubman “had not connected as closely as [Phifer] wanted his clients to connect,” Goldberger explains, and “the immaculate quality of Phifer’s architecture was never the right match for Julie’s taste.”
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Blue Dream as captured by Iwan Baan. |
Who was the right architect for Julie’s tastes? It was Charles Renfro, who “seemed to connect easily with Julie Taubman in a way that Phifer had not,” Goldberger writes. Another reason DS+R got the job was their ability to connect with the precedents Julie was drawn to, namely the houses of John Lautner, Kendrick Bangs Kellogg, and
Jacques Couëlle, as well as Frederick Kiesler’s iconic, site-less, unbuilt Endless House (
also in MoMA’s collection). The cave-like qualities of the houses designed by Couëlle and Kiesler appear to have inspired Renfro the most, as Julie selected the “Ravioli” scheme from the four initial concepts the studio generated after their meeting. The others were the “Mobius,” the “Roof,” and the “Dunes.” Any of them would have led to statement house dramatically different from the Hamptons norm, but continuing on the path started by the Ravioli scheme led to the built Blue Dream, a sculptural house unlike another DS+R project, yet one that is hard to see coming from another contemporary architect.
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Spread from Blue Dream in “Where Modernism Flourished” chapter. |
By the time we read about the Taubmans selecting DS+R for the commission, we have absorbed much of the house through the numerous full-bleed color photographs by Iwan Baan that sit between early chapters about the Taubman’s background and wishes, about the history of modernism on Long Island (this chapter echoes Goldberger’s essay in
Houses of the Hamptons from 1986), and about the aborted project with Phifer. The chapters that follow move forward in time, tracing the development of its formal design; documenting the efforts to engineer the design and turn it into an actual building; presenting the interior contributions that turned the house into a
Gesamtkunstwerk; and revealing the personal issues that make the house as melancholy as it is exuberant. The book has a clear narrative sweep, one that is aided by the coffee table format, with its large paper size, large photos, and the easy integration of images with Goldberger’s text. The format, I feel, is appropriate to the house and its circumstances. Even if you’re not a fan of Blue Dream (I’m still more partial to the Slow House), it’s hard not to get pulled along on the ride of its realization as recounted in these pages.
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The view from the picture window at Blue Dream, photographed by Iwan Baan. |