Paul Rudolph goes to the Dentist (but actually, it's the other-way around!)

Paul Rudolph’s organically curved floor plan for the dental office of Dr. Nathan Shore, in NYC—a work from the mid-1960’s. While Rudolph was known as a master of geometry and form (and their application to architecture, interiors, and furniture), this sinuous approach to planning was one to which he turned only occasionally. This “poche” version of the plan was used as a decorative graphic on the dental office receptionist station’s glass enclosure.

CREATION WITHIN A VARIETY OF SCALES AND TYPES: TRUE MASTERS WILL TAKE-ON ALL CHALLENGES

One of the signs of a master architect-designer is their ability to create interesting work at all scales. English architect Charles Ashbee, the Arts & Crafts era designer, is a strong example: designing everything from a typeface -to-furniture -to- houses -to- the renovation of a war-damaged city. His American contemporary, Bertram Goodhue, worked in a similarly broad range of scales: from his design of a typeface that is still in wide use (“Cheltenham”) -to- his Nebraska State Capitol, a building big enough to be seen from a distance of 20 miles.

Paul Rudolph indicated that he would be willing to take on even humble projects, and said:

“‘It makes no difference to me the size of the project. I’ve always said, ‘I would be happy to make a dog house for you, if you would let me make it a unique and very good dog house.’”

And, in fact, some famous architects have applied their architectural skills to dog house design: Frank Lloyd Wright (who called such a commission “an opportunity” in design), and Philip Johnson.

Young Jim Berger lived in a house designed by Frank Lloyd Wright for the Berger family in San Anselmo—and, at age 12, he asked Wright to design a doghouse for his pet labrador retriever. Wright sent a construction drawing and “Eddie’s House” was built. Here, in 2017, Mr. Berger is seen with a reconstruction of it, which was on display at the Wright-designed Marin County Civic Center.

Philp Johnson’s 1997 design: a “dog house” on the Glass House estate. According to the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s website: “This small structure was created by Johnson as a conceptual project for a classically-inspired tomb. However, when completed the small wooden object turned out to be just the right size for his and [David] Whitney’s new puppies to inhabit. . . .”

To our knowledge, Paul Rudolph never designed a dog house, but—across his half-century career, in which he engaged in hundreds of commissions—he was not above taking-on projects of a less-than-glamourous nature, or for clients with limited budgets.

One of the happy surprises we’ve encountered in the archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation is an article from the Journal of the American Dental Association—and it’s about just such a project: Rudolph’s 1967 design for a dental office for Dr. Nathan Shore.

THE DENTIST GOES TO RUDOLPH

Rudolph’s client, Dr. Nathan Shore, was a dental pioneer in working on TMJ —and wrote this key book on the topic.

Dr. Nathan A. Shore (1914-1984), was a dental specialist and pioneer in correcting a jaw condition called temporomandibular joint syndrome—known more widely as TMJ—-a subject upon which he wrote numerous articles and a book (and for which he devised a test to determine whether the pain was medical or dental in origin.)

In he 1960’s, Dr. Shore asked Paul Rudolph to design his dental offices: they were to be located within a nearly windowless 1,830 square foot space on Central Park South, in the midtown section of Manhattan. Rudolph divided this area into 19 spaces: 

• four dental operatories

• two hygienist operatories

• two con­sultation rooms

• an audiovisual room (for patient education)

• a business office

• a reception room

• a kitchen for staff use

• an X-ray room

• two laboratories

• two washrooms

• all the above spaces connected by a continuous corridor

• all remaining spaces, between the walls of the rooms, were utilized for storage.

Placing all these rooms and functions into the available square footage was an tour-de-force of space-planning efficiency. Although suite corridors were narrow, circular mirrors mounted on walls, and varied ceiling heights created an illusion of space.

Paul Rudolph’s floor plan for the Nathan Shore dental offices—probably the “presentation drawing” which was shown to the client (and/or other parties, such as the building management) to explain the design and obtain their approval. Each space in this quarter-inch scale plan is labeled; overall dimensions of the space are shown; and the entry is indicated by an arrow shown toward the bottom-center of the drawing.

A screen capture from the Museum of Modern Art’s website, showing a 1961 Jason Seley sculpture which is part of their collection: “Masculine Presence”. Like the sculpture that was in the Shore Dental office, this example is made from auto parts—Seley’s most frequent medium.

Furniture, in reception and some internal offices, included chairs by Charles and Ray Eames (from Herman Miller); and by Warren Platner (from Knoll International).

Desk lighting was provided by numerous “Lytegem” lamps (by Lightolier)—then and now, one of the most platonically pure lamp designs, made from a sphere and a cube—a composition strongly appealing to architects committed to the Modern aesthetic [This 1965 design, by Michael Lax, is in the collection of MoMA.]

The reception area contains a sculpture made of automobile hubcaps. It is by Jason Seley, a artist known for creating artworks from chromium steel automobile body parts.

The constructed design received coverage—perhaps the only article about it—in a 1971 issue of The Journal of the American Dental Association. The article, "Functional Design based on Pattern of Work in a Dental Suite", spoke of Rudolph’s design approach to meet the challenges involved in such a project, and included a description of the results, photos, and a floor plan. The article’s author, Eileen Farrell, had been an editorial supervisor at the American Dental Association, and some of her observations included:

"Dentistry in the round is one way to describe the unique dental suite designed for Dr. Nathan Allen Shore by architect Paul Rudolph of Yale. . . .The circular motif is repeated in various ways that add to the total effect. Lighting in the operatories, for instance, is diffused from a circular well in the ceiling across which the dental light slides on a track integrated with the ceiling diffusor. A curved Plexiglass screen divides the business office from the recep­tion room, making each space seem larger. A circular rendition of aspects of the temporomandibular joint decorates the door leading to the operatories.”

"Besides creating an illusion of space, the design aims at quiet and a sense of privacy. To this end, circulation of pa­tients and staff is kept to a minimum, and although there are eight staff members and a steady stream of patients, the suite never seems to be crowded. One reason is that the movement of traffic is in the round rather than back and forth. . . .When a patient arrives for his appointment, the secretary opens the door by remote control and admits him to the recep­tion area."

"Doctor Shore finds that his staff is happy in the well-designed quarters. . . .Functional design, he says, seems well suited to a most progressive profession."

Above are small screen-captures of the pages of the article about the Rudolph-designed Nathan Shore dental office. At the lower-right is a slightly enlarged portion of one page, showing the reception area—and, at its right side, one can see that the suite’s floor plan has been incorporated into the reception desk’s window, as an intriguing ornamental pattern. The full article can be accessed through the JADA website, here.

RUDOLPH AND CURVILNEAR DESIGN

The work of Paul Rudolph presents difficulties for historians—at least for the ones who are uncomfortable with the great range of forms in his designs, and the multiple approaches Rudolph used when answering hundreds of architectural challenges. Attempts to pigeonhole a great creative force like Rudolph are doomed to futility—but some observations on his formal vocabulary are worthwhile, like our analysis of his use of crystalline shapes at Burroughs Wellcome.

But what about Rudolph’s use of curved forms? Rudolph could hardly be said to be afraid of curves: they show-up early in his practice: most notably in the Healy “Cocoon” house of 1950. But projects where “free form” or “biomorphic” curvilinear elements and planning dominate are not all-that-frequent in his career. Some notable exceptions are his sculptural handling of concrete in his Temple Street Parking Garage and the forms and spaces of the Boston Government Service Center. But even in Rudolph’s Endo Laboratories—one of his finest projects from the beginning of the 1960’s, which is well-known for its curved elements—or his Daiei Headquarters Building in Japan, most of the curves are carefully controlled portions of circles or ellipses. Thus when we do encounter designs in which Rudolph uses free and energetic organic lines (as in Dr. Shore’s offices), there is good reason to give such projects extra focus—and even to celebrate this branch of Rudolph’s creativity.

In the spirit of our start of this article—pointing-out that design masters can productively focus on projects of all scales—we end with an example at the smaller end of the range of objects which Paul Rudolph designed: a desk for Endo Laboratories. Thoughtfully designed for efficient function, and carefully drawn, detailed and specified (as the drawing shows)—it also fully embraces “free form” curvilinear design.

An “executive desk”, designed by Paul Rudolph for the offices of Endo Laboratories, his 1960 project in Garden City.

IMAGE CREDITS

NOTES:

The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation gratefully thanks all the individuals and organizations whose images are used in this non-profit scholarly and educational project.

The credits are shown when known to us, and are to the best of our knowledge, but the origin and connected rights of many images (especially vintage photos and other vintage materials) are often difficult determine. In all cases the materials are used in-good faith, and in fair use, in our non-profit, scholarly, and educational efforts. If any use, credits, or rights need to be amended or changed, please let us know.

When/If Wikimedia Commons links are provided, they are linked to the information page for that particular image. Information about the rights for the use of each of those images, as well as technical information on the images, can be found on those individual pages.

CREDITS:

Floor plans of the Nathan A. Shore dental office (both “poche” and linework versions), and the drawing of the desk for Endo Laboratories: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Frank Lloyd Wright-designed doghouse: photo courtesy of Marin County Civic Center, as shown on the city’s website; Philip Johnson-designed doghouse: photo by and courtesy of Sean Sheer of Urban Dog; Jason Seley sculpture, within the collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York City: screen capture from a portion of the MoMA web page devoted to that sculpture; JADA article on the Nathan A. Shore dental office: screen captures from the 1971 issue, Volume 83, Issue 1; Cover of Dr. Shore’s book: from the Amazon page devoted to that book.

Earliest Known Paul Rudolph Drawing?

It can probably never be precisely known what were Paul Rudolph’s earliest and final drawings. but this pair can be viewed as “representative bookends” of a career with an intense focus on drawing. LEFT: a pencil still-life, possibly done at the beginning of his architectural education. ABOVE: a perspective of the Wireless Road project for Thailand, made during Rudolph’s final decade of work.

THE FASCINATION OF BEGINNINGS

Narrative—our attraction to stories (both telling and hearing them)—seems to be hardwired into our neural pathways, and there fewer more powerful openings in our language than “Let me tell you a story…” -or- “Once upon a time…” -and of course-- “In the beginning…”. We’re entranced by beginnings, starting points, creation myths, and every major figure in our lives and culture—grandparents, presidents, Olympic stars—comes with an origin story. Superhero origin stories—whether it be Superman’s escapeg from an exploding planet or Spiderman’s fateful bug bite—have been told and retold (and re-re-retold), and yet we still enjoy seeing new versions of them.

A key part of origin stories are tales of the heroic figure’s earliest acts—the first times they show evidence of the skills, strength, talents, and integrity which will flourish through their later careers. Whether it be the young Washington and the cherry tree, or the apprentice Leonardo da Vinci’s painting so beautifully that he intimidated his master, these stories and early works are like the opening notes of the symphony of their lives.

A hero’s origin story which is known world-wide: a small capsule, taking the Kryptonian child that would become Superman, approaches Earth [as shown in the first episode of the 1952 Superman TV series.]

Le Corbusier’s only formal training in design was during his school courses in applied arts in association with watchmaking. This watchcase is perhaps his earliest known design work.

A work by Andrea del Verrocchio, in which his young apprentice, Leonardo, painted the angel at the far-left—done with such intimidating mastery that Verrocchio allegedly never again painted in color.

Architects also have their origin stories, and tales of their early actions receive the focus of historians and writers [Peter Blake’s “The Masterbuilders” includes covering those early years of Wright, Mies, and Le Corbusier.] While the first works of Mies and Wright may be lost (or look unpromising), we do have a fascinating early design by Le Corbusier—for an engraved watch case—and it hints at his lifelong focus on nature and geometry.

What about Paul Rudolph—his beginnings and first works? We’ll look at that here.

A VIRTUOSO OF ARCHITECTURAL DRAWING

Paul Rudolph is known for his drawings—ones that combine precision of vision with dramatic effect.—especially his perspective sections. Two of his most famous drawings are the section through the Yale Art & Architecture Building, and his view of the proposed Lower Manhattan Expressway (“LOMEX”) project.

Paul Rudolph’s section-perspective drawing through the Yale Art & Architecture Building (which has been red-dedicated as Rudolph Hall). The drawing gives a dramatic sense of the interpenetrating levels and the functions of the building’s complex of spaces. [It is worth going to the project page devoted to this building, where you can see an enlarged version of this drawing.]

Rudolph’s section-perspective through the LOMEX project. This drawing not only conveys the architectural drama of the architecture Rudolph proposed, and the multiple-functions of the Manhattan-crossing mega-structure, but it also situates the project within the cityscape. [It is worth going to the project page devoted to this building, where you can see an enlarged version of this drawing.]

Rudolph’s drawings have been celebrated in exhibitions, articles, and websites—and every book about him has highlighted both his virtuoso graphic skill as well as the way drawing was integral to his design process.

Two volumes which focus on Paul Rudolph’s drawings:
ABOVE: “Paul Rudolph: Architectural Drawings” is a large-format volume published during his lifetime and with his direct involvement. It includes an essay, by Rudolph, in which he speaks about his drawing process.
RIGHT: Published by Moleskine in association with Princeton Architectural Press, “Paul Rudolph: Inspiration and Process in Architecture” includes examples of Rudolph’s presentation drawings—but also highlights his sketches, displaying the architect in the process of exploration-creation, on-the-way to his finished designs.

AN EARLY INTEREST IN THE ARTS

Young Rudolph, working with another student on a design-oriented project.

Two of our recent articles focused on Paul Rudolph’s involvement in the fine arts: one on music, and the other on visual arts (especially painting). We quoted a letter from his mother, Erie Stone Rudolph, attesting to his early interest in both:

“He always liked to paint pictures too, as well as he liked to play the piano. Had always loved Music, and would be drawing a model house or painting a picture, then suddenly get up from that work to and go to the piano and practice. . . .Music was play to him as well as his painting and drawing pictures. . . . .Music, Art and Architecture were his three delights.”

Auburn Polytechnic Institute [now Auburn University] was where Paul Rudolph received his first formal architectural education (this was prior to Rudolph’s later time at Harvard, studying with Gropius). In an earlier article, we profiled what we believe may be his earliest architectural project—not just a school assignment, but one which was intended for actual construction: a gateway for the Auburn campus, which was to be a gift from members of the senior class. Rudolph’s drawing of the proposed design was published in a February, 1938 issue of the school’s newspaper, The Plainsman.

What may be Paul Rudolph’s earliest architectural project intended for construction: a gateway for the Auburn campus. Rudolph’s rendering was published in a 1938 issue of school’s newspaper, The Plainsman. The gate piers (and associated walling) appear to be composed of of brick with stone trim—choices which would correspond the the materials used in other buildings on the Auburn campus. Unfortunately, due to funding issues, the gates were never built.

RUDOLPH’S EDUCATION AT aUBURN: LIFE CLASS DRAWING

The archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation has one of Rudolph’s “report cards” from his time studying architecture at Auburn (which the school sent to Paul Rudolph’s father). It is for the first semester of the 1939-40 academic year, and gives an insight into what Rudolph was taking-in during this phase of his education. One of the classes listed on the report is “Life Class” (for which Rudolph received a good grade: a 90).

In arts education, “life class” is the term often used for class sessions devoted to “drawing from life”. In the era of architectural education when Paul Rudolph was a student, such “life classes”, to teach drawing, were a frequent part of other architecture school programs—so it is a reasonable conclusion that the “life class” which Rudolph attended was focused on freehand drawing, with the subjects being either live models or inanimate objects.

PAUL RUDOLPH’S EARLIEST DRAWING?

One of the most interesting objects in the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation’s collection is a drawing, signed by Rudolph—but it is not of any architectural subject. It depicts a small statue on an ornate base—and it might well be from one of the “life class” sessions which was part of Rudolph’s education at Auburn.

A signed, framed drawing in the archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation—possibly the earliest extant original work by Rudolph.

The drawing by Rudolph. To the right is a 12” architect’s scale ruler, which gives a sense of the artwork’s size.

The drawing, including its wood frame, is 15-7/8” high x 11-1/2” wide, and the medium appears to be pencil on a lightly textured paper. The paper itself is cream colored, but it is not known whether if it was originally that color, or if the cream coloration is due to oxidation over the years. If it was done at Auburn, that would place the drawing’s creation at approx. 80 years ago—an abundant amount of time for paper to “turn”. There is a water stain across the top of the drawing—but, fortunately, it is largely clear of the drawn image.

The frame seems to be of the same vintage as the drawing. The face of the frame is 1/2” wide, and the frame itself is painted wood. Wood frames, like this, were inexpensively available at “five-and-dime” variety stores (such as Woolworth’s and Kress)—-and the Rudolph family’s modest means would suggest such a source—but it is also a non-standard size, so it is possible that the frame was custom made at a local framing shop.

Rudolph’s education at Auburn was based on classical / Beaux-Arts ideals and methods—and the subjects that would have been chosen for life class (other than live models, if any) would have been corresponding classical sculpture (like figural statues), and architectural elements (like scroll ornaments and column capitals). If this drawing was done for school, its classical character—probably depicting a Greco-Roman water nymph (an “undine”) would fit well with the other subjects he’d be called-upon to render. But, as Rudolph loved to make art (as his mother tells us), this could have been a self-chosen subject—and table-top sculptures like this (stylized classical visions in the Deco mode) were widely available, and could have graced Rudolph’s own home.

A closer view of the prime image of the drawing: a still-life of a sculpture, probably of a an idealized or mythical figure. The intimacy of the drawing suggests that the object, from which Rudolph was drawing, was of table-top size.

A closer view of the upper part of the drawing, focusing on the figure. Its stylized classical form, as well as simplified shape of the scarf (or water wave) behind the figure, may be due to the era-of-manufacture of the object that Rudolph was drawing. Decorative objects, of this subject, scale, character, were a widespread product of the Art Deco era—and were made at a variety of price points, such that they were affordable even for a middle-class home (or a school with limited budget).

A detail of the bottom of the drawing, showing the base of the statuette. It was possibly sculpted to evoke classical acanthus leaves—or, if this the statue was of a water sprite (like the mythical undine), to depict waves.

Paul Rudolph’s signature, in pencil, is at the lower-right corner of the drawing. While his signature changed somewhat over the decades, its basic character was consistent.

IMAGE CREDITS

NOTES:

The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation gratefully thanks all the individuals and organizations whose images are used in this non-profit scholarly and educational project.

The credits are shown when known to us, and are to the best of our knowledge, but the origin and connected rights of many images (especially vintage photos and other vintage materials) are often difficult determine. In all cases the materials are used in-good faith, and in fair use, in our non-profit, scholarly, and educational efforts. If any use, credits, or rights need to be amended or changed, please let us know.

When/If Wikimedia Commons links are provided, they are linked to the information page for that particular image. Information about the rights for the use of each of those images, as well as technical information on the images, can be found on those individual pages.

CREDITS:

Paul Rudolph drawings: © The Estate of Paul Rudolph, The Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Clippings from Auburn University’s The Plainsman, and Rudolph’s grade report: from the archives of the Paul Rudolph Heritage Foundation; Covers of two books on Paul Rudolph’s drawings, from the Amazon for those books; Le Corbusier watch case: vintage image; Krypton capsule approaching Earth: still from the first episode of 1950’s TV series, “The Adventures of Superman”; Andrea del Verrocchio’s painting (circa 1472-1475), “The Baptism of Christ”: from the Yorck Project - DIRECTMEDIA, via Wikimedia Commons.