THE TRIBAL COMPOUNDWITHIN TWO HILLSIDE TOWNHOUSES
A 'yes' then was simple, but now the houses need some explanation lest this complex become just a muddle of pictures. Bear with me. I need to go back. When I first enrolled in the Reed-MIT five-year architecture program, I got waylaid by studio classes in sculpture. Thus when I think of doing work for myself I tend self-consciously to tread paths first furrowed by my Renaissance heroes and later humanist sculptors. In other words, I seem to work in terms of solids and cavities. Twenty or thirteen years ago when I bought the hillside property with two friends, land prices were comparatively inexpensive. I determined that this was the chance to do a project from beginning to end where my hand could have the most direct imprint on each and every phase while I would learn my craft fully as the "compleat" architect - beginning with development, then financing, design, construction and finally consumption. The first phase, the subdivision of the property, was horrendously frustrating and filled with agonies, zoning and planning hearings, denials and appeals. This took three years but I achieved my purpose. During this period I had started to lay out my preliminaries so that the legal property lines were not those given me by nameless civil engineers but rather angles and lengths which were subservient to the requirements of wall, lines, areas, and the site. In other words, the legal description and lot lines could now be cut on the bias to the grade so that the sight lines within the complex were lengthened and "the laws" served my needs. Additionally, I achieved my first objective which was to experience every step in the subdivision process - I suspect that I am one of the few architects in town who drew, inked and recorded his own Los Angeles Subdivision Parcel Map on Imperial linen. In one of those cruel trade-offs with the Planning Department, I acceded to dedicating a five-foot frontage strip to the city in lieu of curb and gutters for four hundred feet of road. This cutting back of the minimal flat ground forced me even further back and up the hillside. And with the need for efficient layout of utility lines, I decided to build as close to the street and to that level as I could. This suggested a straight frontage wall upon which all floors could hang while the retaining walls formed the back. The retaining wall was designed to follow an arc or half-circle form so that it would become even stronger under compressive stress. The front faces of the enclosure became the walls of the houses and also the pedestals to the ring system. The major interior walls became angled buttresses to the street facade and were cut on a bias for sight lines and spaciousness. Since I knew my partners well, their house reflected openness and frank visibility and since I knew myself somewhat less well, my house reflected introversion and chiaroscuro perversities. The resurgence of my motion picture production work occupied the next five years; then about four and a half years ago I started work on the five underground utilities and the eight-inch city sewer lines. This aspect of the work involved as much pain and anxiety as the planning subdivision process; plus, we were required to post a low five-figure cash bond. More pain. In 1972, I began a search for construction financing. The first savings and loan cursorily turned me down but in my naivete I persisted and inveigled a personal presentation to Milton Feinerman, the rare and perceptive president of Westdale Savings and Loan who overrode the Loan Committee and approved our loan. It was incredible luck. Since the amount was modest, I redesigned the structure so that there were only two major sub-contracts, one for concrete for the thirty-six bell caissons and foundation walls, and the second for the structural brick block for all vertical walls. All other structural steel and wood erection was done by ourselves and four of my ex-students from Cal Poly Pomona. Construction began in 1974, and I do not believe I shall see the end. AS I SIT IN THE BRICK HOUSE now writing about the work it seems to me that this frankly self-indulgent house represents in sold terms some vague and intangible notions, ideas, and perceptions I have had during the past eight years about myself, my world, and how to live intimately with others. Not so much in the detached single-family tradition but within the new tribal compound. About eight years ago when many of my friends and colleagues closed their small architectural practices, I too started to change my life. I became extremely interested in junking. In the refuse piles of the unwanted I would find Art Deco cobalt-blue mirrors and industrial waste items of the '30s. I relocated my studio in 1969 to the old Venice Post Office. I became a habitue of wrecking yards, thriftshops, and the like. All these concerns I carried into this house. For example we purchased auctioned Lufton Mfg. 8' x8' glass door panels and 4' x8' windows from a house wrecking yard for a fraction of the retail sum. In the early '70s it seemed to me that my available world would soon become unavailable. This sense of anxiety and helplessness about my world I see reflected in this complex, in stark contrast to my light, airy, optimistic forms of the '60s. This is my perception of the times; I think of it as the defensive architecture of apprehension. David Ming-Li Lowe, Architects Instructor, Los Angeles City College Photos: Leland Lee Exit to ArchitectsWorkshop Homepage ........................................................... 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