By the time we got to Oak Park, we were wanin’
We found our faces left hangin’ on the bed
We laughed about thinkin’ we’d see the Bean
‘Cause I’ve over planned so many times before…
Unfortunately, Oak Park was the last stop of the Epic East Coast Odyssey of 2012, which meant we were tard. That’s right, tard. When one is tard it’s dang hard to do anything ‘cept be tard. As a result, the queen opted out of touring Frank’s home and studio although I suspect if she weren’t tard she might have been somthin’ else. It’s all groovy and cool. That left GFDeborah and I to mosey on down to Frank’s place for a little visit.
Before I start, let me just say I have a problem. It’s almost as bad as the heartbreak of psoriasis. And let’s face it, psoriasis is pretty heartbreaking (not that I know). I bet it’s even more heartbreaking than hammer toe (not that I know). Still, I have a problem. It’s my camera lens. It sucks big green donkey balls of a big blue elephant. Let me break it down to you in layman’s terms, because all this technical camera jargon can get a bit overwhelming (if you are sensitive you may want to scroll down while not looking up at the text, which may be hard because it’s right here). To be frank, my lens is a fucking douche bag. For real. It’s a poseur, and as we all know, poseurs are douches. My lens is a douche.
(sung to the the tune of Volare):
Dooooouche bag, whoa oohhhhhh
La bouche bag, oh-oh-oh ohhhh
It’s cool. I should buy a new one but we’re too busy doin’ meth. It’s costs some shit, g. No hatin’.
As a result, I could not capture the completeness of The Frank’s home and studio. Everything is very – close, because of my douche lens. That’s cool. We like detail, right?
Wright’s designs were known for their cave-like halls leading to bigger, spacious rooms with high ceilings, light play from windows and niches and, of course, the marriage of architecture and nature. His home had all these things. Yet, by today’s standards, the rooms are closed-in and small. One must look at such things in historical perspective. It’s like listening to the Beatles. They may sound quaint, but at the time they blew more than a few minds. I’m sure they blew all kinds of things, but that’s a story for another day. Thus is the nature of The Frank.
Let me just say, I love love love the Frank’s skinny fireplace design. I bet people back in the late 1800s, when this place was built, said something like, “Looky at that, how the hell can smoke get the heck out of that skinny thing? I just don’t know. It’s skinny. It just ain’t right.” And I be the naked dudes all fetus-like were the talk at the penny social. “Gladys, have you see the *whispers* bald, naked men? Oh my. Oh my my. Ohhhh myyyyy stars.”
Upon entering, there is a small room, a niche room, with a fireplace and this inscription above it (see below about the inscription above the fireplace). Ok, what are the odds some good shit talkin’ was had about some “creatvre”s around “these hearth-stones?” Puh-leese. I bet Louis Sullivan got some shit talked about him.
Note to self: Always, ALWAYS, in the foyer have a statue of a nekkid woman with no arms who appears to have had breast augmentation.
GF Deborah contemplates the frankness of The Frank…
The concept of ‘organic’ architecture at work. He did the same thing at Fallingwater – built a part of the house around the trees and within the environment. Quite awesome, although, the practical side of me wonders if it leaks during a rain storm.
This is my favorite detail of the house. He had similar, lovely, surprises in all his creations – a niche, you don’t see the window, only the light from the widow.
After touring Frank’s studio, I took GFDeborah home with all good intentions to meet up for dinner. But, we were too tired, called it a trip, then headed for home. This, hi-ever, won’t be our last visit to Oak Park.
Thus ends the Mega East Coast Tour of 2012.
On Monday, Thomas and I embark on the Great Googly Moogly Folk Art and Freaky Tour. Stay tuned for details.