revisiting the LA 12               interview with frank gehry santa monica, may 9, 1997

JM=Jennifer Minasian

MD=Mark Dillon

BZ=Bernard Zimmerman

What have been the rewards of practicing architecture?

Well, it ain't money. But there's a lot of satisfaction in seeing those buildings go up. I thought that was going to be the main satisfaction, actually. Now I know that for me, it's different. It's the whole process of getting from the very first day with the client to the end, is more important than the end. And to punctuate that point, there are three buildings that I did that I have never gone to see. One is the Herman Miller project in Sacramento, which I'm very proud of. But the client changed at the end - the same people weren't there and so it just didn't mean as much.

JM: Was it not executed the way you anticipated?

Yes, it was absolutely perfect.

The project in Iowa, for the laser lab, it started out as a real client for a laser lab, and as it was under construction the university changed it and decided not to do a laser lab. I don't know what the building's used for. The people that I dealt with are gone, so I never went to see it. I show pictures of it in my lectures; I'm proud of it, but I didn't care. And there 's a house in the valley called the Sirmai-Peterson house, and I think it's the best house I've ever done. I've never seen it.

JM: Is it because you want to keep that ideal in your mind?

No, not at all. The clients are kind of goofy - they're very private people. Our relationship didn't end up - it's friendly, I mean, they weren't mad, they love the house, in fact they treat it like a shrine to me! Michelangelo Antonioni was here a few weeks ago, and he wanted to use the house for his LA film. We called them up, and they wouldn't let him in! They thought he'd scratch the slate floors. They're very strange, and they're private, and they don't really want to deal with anybody from the outside, it's psychological stuff going on. So I've never gone!

Have they tried to get you to come over?

No, I thought if they really wanted to have a little friendly dinner party, you know, christen the place, do something together, but they never have. We wanted to photograph it a couple of years ago and we sent out Grant Mumford, and they were very strange to him. They let him in for the first day, he got a few pictures, he left his equipment there in the middle of the room because he was coming back the next day. And they freaked and he got back the next day and all his equipment was outside, and they wouldn't let him in. So there's a kind of psychological line that I don't want to cross. But if they called me and invited me to come out for dinner or some drinks, I'd say great, that would be all right, I'd go. But since they're not capable of doing that, I have to respect that. But it was fun doing the house, and it is, I think, as good as I've ever done it. It hasn't been published very much. It hasn't been really talked about. Maybe someday in the future someone will pick up on it. I don't begrudge it, I'm not angry - it's just the way it is.

Iím working right now with the people in Bilbao, Spain, and the Guggenheim, and Tom Kranz is a visionary. He's intellectually stimulating, he's a lot of fun, we can spend hours talking about monuments in Turkey, paintings in Italy, you know. He provoked me a lot, in the design of the building, pushed me. Believe it or not, there were days you give up and he wouldn't let me. We have a great relationship. The Basques have become like family. We spend time there. The only problem is that in October it's coming to an end. I just wrote a piece for one of their magazines about this: in October the building opens and then you're finished, right? I mean, I could probably concoct reasons to go there for another six or eight months, but after that I'd be pushing it. And then we'll be off to another client. So you lose these family things. I had that kind of relationship with the American Center (in Paris) people, but then they all disappeared when it got in trouble. I have that relationship in LA with Disney Hall, with Ernest Fleishman, Essa-Pekka Salonen, Diane Disney Miller, and the acousticians from Japan, and members of the orchestra. We have a family relationship. But other people are involved now who are not so interested and that's creating a little havoc, but I think it will all settle out eventually.

Those relationships, in the end, are the most gratifying.

Have any other professions or types of work ever interested you?

Well, I'm very interested in playing in the NHL some day. So I skate every day, and I'm just learning to do crossovers, both ways and backwards. That's hard to do at my age. And I scored my first goal in an exhibition game in Long Beach a few weeks ago! I couldn't believe it. When I scored it I didn't realize I'd done it, and you know how they all come over to you, and scratch on your head like monkeys. And one of these guys was Mark Hardy who used to play with the Kings; he actually passed me the puck that I got the goal with, so he got the assist. And Mark Hardy is like, my hero. And there he is doing this on my head - so that's what I want to do, is play in the NHL! See, Gretsky's going to be retiring soon!

What could students learn from reviewing the body of work you have completed?

Well, I've been persistent. I've followed my intuitions and my nose. It's corny to say I haven't compromised - everyone compromises in some way, but I've just done what I do and developed logic systems that support the ideas. And I've managed to develop ways of getting the stuff built that makes it reasonable within normal budgets of normal human beings. I never thought there were overriding rules in the universe that we understood that made it compelling to do architecture one way or another; anybody's logic system was as good as another person's. And the only thing that guides me is respect for your fellow human being, whether they be a genius or Joe Average, or mentally impaired. They are equal to me. And that hasn't been easy to come by, to be respectful of everybody. Like being a good neighbor. I know that the neighbors didn't like my house, but I didn't do anything that was detrimental to them. I used the materials they were using. I was trying to understand myself as a middle-class bloke in this middle-class neighborhood: how would I fit in, with my architectural values? Using materials that were consistent with the neighborhood.

JM: Do really think those materials are consistent with the neighborhood? I mean, there's no corrugated metal on the houses, there's no chain link fences on or around the other houses. I always see that as something that's transplanted from building of a nearby commercial or light industrial landscape.

No, when I built that house, that neighborhood was full of trailer trucks in the back yards, and often on the lawn. A lot of old, aging Cadillacs and big cars on blocks on the front lawn, people fixing their cars. A lot of chain link fences, corrugated metal; I know they didn't use it like I did, and that's the difference.

JM: So you look at it as if the entire yard and house is the landscape from which these things are taken - those elements are just moved from utilitarian roles in the yard to -

You got it. If you go through Brentwood, you'll see five or six million dollar houses with tennis courts in the front. So you drive up to this five or six million dollar house with a chain link fence, and nobody thinks about it.

JM: It's playing a particular role in that setting.

Yeah. So then if I take the same chain link fence put it in front of my house and make it a decorative element, then - it's the same chain link! It's just not in a recognizable place. There's a lot of denial about chain link. I have a lawyer friend who used to kid me about my chain link. He bought a house in Bel Air and he called me one day and he said he was having trouble with the architect in the kitchen, and would I come and look at it. So he picked me up in his Rolls Royce and he drove me to his house. And I walked in the house, looked out to the garden, and there's a tennis court with a chain link fence. You can see it clearly from the dining room, the living room, and the bedrooms. So I said, 'Mickey, I'm embarrassed. I've converted you to this material. I apologize.' 'What are you talking about? That's a tennis court.' I said, 'It's a chain link fence.' I even showed him how to get rid of it, and he wouldn't do it! He wants the symbol of tennis courts. It's a denial system that was interesting to me. That's why I played with it in the first place. It wasn't anything other than that I was fascinated by this denial. There's a lot of it in our culture.

MD: Have the angry neighbors over time approached you again?

Well, the angriest neighbor copied the house, two doors down. She built a house inside a house. There wasn't that much anger. This one woman, two doors down - she was a lawyer - who didn't understand, I took her on a walk and I showed her the chain link and I showed her the camper trucks; it was just that was normal, you see, as long as it was it was normal, it didn't matter that it was ugly and dirty and messy. It was normal, and I was abnormal. I suppose one could make a case for being normal. But then, that is some kind of tyranny. Some aesthetic tyranny. And that is what architects are supposed to do - to break out of that. To show the way from some kind of aesthetic tyranny to some kind of heaven, Valhalla, of design, which we all believe in.

What particular projects have you learned the most from?

The latest one. I don’t know, I forget.

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