Opinion / Virginia McLeod
Meeting of minds
In 1938, just after the German annexation of Austria, the Tugendhat family left their much-loved and longed-dreamed-of house in the Czechoslovakian city of Brno. It seemed that their country would be next so the clan left the villa designed by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, Lilly Reich and Sergius Ruegenberg after just eight years of enjoyment. The house has since become recognised as an architectural masterpiece and is now a tourist attraction. When I visited – on a sub-zero, crystalline winter’s day between Christmas and New Year – it was filled with natural light casting long, dramatic mid-afternoon shadows onto the floors and walls.
It’s now on a long list of famous homes that I’ve had the pleasure of visiting. I have trekked to some of the most celebrated – Le Corbusier’s Villa Savoye, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater and Alvar Aalto’s Villa Mairea, to name but a few. But what can we learn from this kind of residential “architourism”? Houses such as Villa Tugendhat are a demonstration of art and beauty, and the magic that happens when the right client finds the right architect, collaborating to create something that is both unique to their combined vision but also transcends its time and place. Villa Tugendhat tells us much about the lives and aspirations of a family living in Czechoslovakia in the years after the First World War.
Finished in 1930, it was a truly ground-breaking house with every mod con available at the time. This included full-height windows that descend into a basement well, a garage where the Tugendhats parked their convertible Tatra and a room to protect fur coats from moths, not to mention staff quarters accommodating a maid, a cook and a chauffeur. All of this is encapsulated in what is a masterclass in pure Bauhausian modernism, complete with curved glass, travertine, onyx, chromed columns, rosewood and, of course, the free plan (these early modernists were among the first to conceptualise open-plan living). The house set a benchmark in terms of the perfect marriage of progressive architect and creatively engaged client – something from which designers and those commissioning them could learn today. One cannot exist without the other.
While it’s worth visiting the building purely for Van der Rohe and Reich’s architecture, it’s also worth making the trip to put yourself in their clients’ shoes. If you take your time as you walk up the stairs, gaze at the view and stand where the Tugendhats once stood, you might be surprised to feel an emotional connection with the individuals who laughed, loved and brought up a family in these spaces. It could just be the catalyst that you need to find your own pioneering architect – one who you might wish to commission to build your own masterpiece.
Virginia McLeod is Monocle’s books editor. For more design, opinion and analysis,
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