Ditherington Flax Mill Shrewsbury, England

The Industrial Revolution gave rise to a new building type: the factory, where a managed workforce could operate machines that were driven by steam power. The advent of machines also created a demand for iron to be produced on a large scale; in addition to being used to build machines, it soon became apparent that iron could be used to construct industrial buildings. The forerunner was the prefabricated cast-iron bridge at Coalbrookdale, England, of 1775–1779. But the factories, especially textile mills, involved problems other than the structural ones. Because they handled large quantities of cotton, flax, and wool, and because their wooden floors were quickly saturated with the oil used to lubricate the machines, they presented a fire hazard. The earliest textile mills had timber floor and roof framing and solid masonry external walls. Cast iron was non-combustible, and it was believed that it offered, as well as greater strength, a measure of fire resistance. Designed in 1795 and built the following year by the

engineer Charles Bage of the milling firm of Bennion, Bage, and Marshall, the Ditherington Flax Mill, in the Shropshire town of Shrewsbury, was the world’s first iron-framed building, the predecessor of most modern factories and even office blocks.

Ditherington was the largest flax mill of its day and one of the largest textile mills of any kind in Britain. The five-story building has conventional load-bearing masonry external walls with very large windows. Internally, it is divided into four bays by three rows of slender, cruciform-section, cast-iron columns, extending for eighteen bays on a north-south axis. Each bay measures about 10 feet (3 meters) square, and the average ceiling height is about 11 feet (3.4 meters). The columns support cast-iron beams spanned by the brick vaults that form the floor above.
The nearby warehouse and cross mill, also iron framed, were built soon after. In 1846 Professor Eaton Hodgkinson published Experimental Researches on the Strength … of Cast Iron, a definitive work that established a design methodology for cast-iron structures; together with Sir William Fairbairn he made a major contribution to the theory of nineteenth-century bridge construction. Cast iron is not fireproof; in fact, it fails structurally and rather dramatically at relatively low temperatures. Consequently, the designers of later iron-framed buildings found ways to protect the columns, often by encasing them in non-load-bearing masonry.
The Ditherington Flax Mill survives, reasonably intact. In 1886 the mill ceased operations, and the building was vacant for ten years. For another century, probably because it had large expanses of open floor space, it was converted to maltings for a brewery. It was empty again from 1987, when the brewery closed down, and has been quite badly vandalized since. In the mid-1990s proposals were put in hand for the refurbishment of all the buildings on the site, with the help of a grant from English Heritage. The project included the creation of shops, restaurants, a heritage information center, leisure facilities and offices, an art gallery, and some housing. In March 2000 Advantage West Midlands announced a £2.8 million (U.S.$4.1 million) grant for the restoration of the mill.

Further reading

Briggs, Asa. 1979. Iron Bridge to Crystal Palace: Impact and Images of the Industrial Revolution. London: Thames and Hudson.

Jones, Edgar. 1985. Industrial Architecture in Britain: 1750–1939. New York: Facts on File.

Mantoux, Paul. 1983. The Industrial Revolution in the Eighteenth Century: An Outline of the Beginnings of the Modern Factory System in England. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Deltaworks The Netherlands

The Deltaworks comprises a series of audacious engineering projects that effectively shorten the coastline of the southwest Netherlands by about 440 miles (700 kilometers), seal outlets to the sea, and reinforce the country’s water defenses. Taking more than forty years to complete, the works involved the construction of huge primary dams totaling 20 miles (30 kilometers) in length, in four sea inlets between the Western Scheldt and the New Waterway, Rotterdam.

The Netherlands is located in the broad deltas of the Rhine, Maas, and Scheldt, and the small country’s history and geography have been greatly influenced by a continuous struggle against the rivers and the sea. Through the coincidence of several events in 1953, the southwestern provinces suffered huge floods in which nearly 2,000 people died and thousands of homes were destroyed. The central government quickly reacted, and the Ministry of Transport, Public Works, and Water Management set up the Delta Committee to devise measures to avert a future disaster. The plan informed the Delta Act of 1958, but its implementation, placed in the hands of a complex instrumentality known as Delta Service, took over four decades to complete.
The major elements of the plan were achieved in the following order: the Hollandse IJssel storm flood barrier (1954–1958), the Zandkreekdam (1957–1960); the Veerse Gatdam (1958–1961); the Grevelingendam (1958–1965); the Volkerakdam (1955–1977); the Haringvlietdam (1956–1972); the Brouwersdam (1963–1972); and the Oosterschelde storm flood barrier (1967–1986). The vast scope of the Deltaworks cannot be fully described here, but it may be measured by a brief overview of the largest, most difficult, and most expensive phase: the Oosterschelde (Eastern Scheldt) storm, flood barrier, immodestly referred to by its builders as “the eighth world wonder.”
It was originally intended to close off the Oosterschelde with a permanent dam, and work started in 1967. By 1973 joining das between parts of the coast had closed 3 miles (4.8 kilometers)—more than half—of the river mouth, and three sluices had been built. Then, in response to public protests, it was decided to construct a storm flood barrier instead of completely closing the estuary. Huge concrete pylons standing on the river bottom would support gates that could close to resist storm surges; a concrete roadway would cross the structure. The government signed a contract with the consortium De Oosterschelde Stormvloedkering Bouwkombinatie in 1977. A 3,000-yard-long (2.78-kilometer) access bridge was built to the 50-foot-deep (15-meter)

construction docks needed to fabricate the massive pylons. Commenced in April 1979, the first was finished early in 1983. In the meantime, work began on the sliding gates. Fifty-foot-deep foundations were prepared to support the pylons, and a special dredge was designed to secure the estuary floor against uneven scouring. By the end of 1982, the river bottom was secured by vast mats laid by purpose-designed vessels. All was ready for placing the pylons.

The construction docks were flooded and the pylons, each weighing 21,600 tons (18,300 tonnes) and between 100 and 135 feet (30 and 40 meters) high, were floated into position, then sunk to the prepared floor. Sixty-five pylons formed the spine of the barrier: sixteen in the northern opening, seventeen in the central, and thirty-two in the southern. They were connected by prefabricated elements, and the sliding gates, each 150 feet (45 meters) long and weighing 1,440 tons (1,220 tonnes), were then installed, a task that took a little under two years to complete. Then followed the fixing of each of the sixty-two 3,000-ton (2,270-tonne) precast concrete elements that carried the roadway across the barrier. The Stormvloedkering Oosterschelde was officially opened on 4 October 1986. It cost about a sixth of the 11 billion guilder (U.S.$5.5 billion) total of the Deltaworks.
The danger of overflowing rivers in the winter and early spring also threatens large parts of the Netherlands. Several inland engineering works—the Philipsdam (1976–1987); the Oesterdam (1977–1988); the Markiezaatskade (1980–1983); and the Bathse Spuikanaal and Spuisluis (1980–1987)—were adjuncts to the primary dams of the Deltaworks.
Holland’s struggle against the water continues. Despite the pleas of regional and local water authorities for river dike reinforcement, the national government concentrated its funding for forty years upon the Deltaworks. Moreover, conservationists oppose any dike improvements that would spoil the landscape. The Boertien Commission was established early in the 1990s to address potential problems, and it produced the Great Rivers Delta Plan, which involved reinforcing nearly 190 miles (300 kilometers) of river dikes and embankments. The first phase was completed by the end of 1996; the second, covering another 280 miles (450 kilometers), was finished by 2001. But that will not solve the problem; if nothing else is done, the next generation of Hollanders will have to raise the dikes again. Climate changes, deforestation, urbanization, and drainage in their upper reaches mean that the river systems will carry increasingly large peak volumes. Cooperative policy and water management must be integrated internationally, from the sources to the deltas.

See also

Afsluitdijk; Storm Surge Barrier

Further reading

Boermans, Anne, and Herman Hoeneveld. 1984. English summary of Tussen land en water: Het wisselende beeld van de Deltawerken. Amsterdam: Meulenhoff.

Haan, Hilde de, and Ids Haagsma. 1984. English summary of De Dettawerken: Teckniek, politiek, achtergronden. Delft: Waltman.

Meijer, Henk, ed. 1998. Het Deltaplan in beeld. Utrecht: IDG.

Deal Castle Kent, England

Deal Castle, built in 1539–1540 to stand guard over the town of the same name on the Kent coast of southeast England, is a fine example of a new building type, created in response to major changes in politics. Deal is the largest, most impressive, and most complicated of the so-called Device forts. It probably looks just as was intended: crouching in wait low above the beach, stocky, powerful, and seemingly impregnable.

In the turbulent years that followed Henry VIII’s accession in 1509 he twice made war on France, the second time as an ally of the Holy Roman Emperor. Charles V of Spain. When he realized that France’s defeat would give Spain too much power, Henry changed sides, joining France and the pope against the empire. England was financially ruined by the campaigns of 1527–1528, and six years later, Henry’s divorce from Catherine of Aragon led to a break with the Catholic Church, isolating him from most of Europe. He tried to drive a diplomatic wedge between France and Spain, but in 1538 they signed a truce, arousing Henry’s fear of a joint invasion. He urgently launched an ambitious defense program. Using funds plundered from the monasteries by his religious “reforms,” in 1539 Henry initiated a chain of about thirty forts and batteries to defend England’s major ports and repel the expected invasion fleet. They included ten Device forts: Portland, Pendennis, and St. Mawes in southwest England; Hurst, Calshott, and Sandgate around the Solent; and Camber, Walmer, Sandown, and Deal on the southeast coast.
The nature of warfare was changing, and the sophisticated defense systems of medieval castles had become obsolete. Built to resist mechanical artillery, they now had to withstand, missiles shot with gunpowder. The clumsy bombards of the fifteenth century could be fired only a few times an hour. But by the early sixteenth century cast-iron cannonballs had replaced stone; powder quality had improved; and ordnance was generally smaller, reliable, and accurate. In 1386, Bodiam Castle in Sussex was among the first to replace archers’ loopholes with cannon and gun ports. The decline of feudalism also had its effect: enemies were more likely to be foreign than envious neighbor barons.
Finished late in 1540 Deal, Walmer, and Sandown completed the metamorphosis from medieval castle to modern artillery emplacement. Each of these squat, powerful-looking “castles in the Downs”—they were still called castles—comprised rounded bastions radiating from a circular keep. Their thick walls were curved to deflect cannonballs, and their many gun ports were widely splayed for easy traverse. There were three tiers of cannon for long-range offense and two tiers of defensive armaments. Built by an army of workmen at a total cost of £27,000—1,000 years’ pay for an artillery officer—and joined by earthen bulwarks (since vanished), they formed a defensive cluster along a vulnerable 2-mile (3.2-kilometer) stretch of coast. Sandown has succumbed to coastal erosion, and Walmer has been converted to a residence for the Warden of the Cinque Ports. Only Deal, overlooking the low-lying marshlands, has been conserved.
Henry VIII’s sexual notoriety has overshadowed his considerable abilities as a scholar, poet, and statesman. He took an interest in military engineering and personally amended the proposals for his forts, and the “device” (that is, the design) of Deal Castle has been attributed to him. The temptation to compare the concentric plan to the Tudor rose (as many have done), although alluring, must be resisted. Built with stone quarried from a nearby Carmelite priory, the castle’s architectural form was primarily constrained by serious military purpose: to pack the maximum firepower into the most compact possible structure.
Six semicircular bastions, with curved parapets and bristling with gun emplacements, radiate in two tiers from a central, cylindrical barracks-keep; the configuration is repeated in the surrounding moat. The upper tier abuts the tower; the lower forms the curtain wall. The concentric layout allowed ordnance to be effectively positioned and fired simultaneously without impeding each other. Almost 200 openings penetrate the massive walls at five levels, including 119 cannon ports and embrasures. The remaining loopholes and casemates, mostly at the lower levels, were for arquebuses and pistols. Gun positions within the bastions were vented to clear the smoke and gases. It is easy to imagine the withering salvo afforded by such purposeful design, but it has been suggested that Henry was unable to find enough cannon to fully equip his fortresses.
Because architects usually build upon what they know, Deal, simply because it had evolved from the

medieval castle, also employed traditional defenses. The entrance was at second-floor level and approached by a drawbridge across the moat; attackers then faced a portcullis, beyond which there were heavy, iron-studded oak doors. The gatehouse ceiling was penetrated by five “murder holes” (gun slots for small arms), and a cannon protected an inner door. In the manner of earlier keeps, the central tower was self-sufficient: its basement had supply and ammunition stores and a well. The garrison was quartered at ground level, with a mess hall with fireplace and bake ovens. The upper story housed, rather more comfortably, the captain of the guard.

The anticipated Catholic assault never came. Although Deal was again readied in 1588, this time to repulse the Spanish Armada, once more no invasion eventuated. Late in the English civil war the fortress was held briefly by the Royalists, but they surrendered after a sustained bombardment. In the eighteenth century Deal’s parapets were altered (some say disastrously) in unfulfilled expectation of attacks during the French Revolution, and again during the Napoleonic Wars. No shot was fired in anger until the German bombing of 1941. Since 1984 Deal Castle has been in the care of the Department of the Environment (now English Heritage).

See also

Dover Castle

Further reading

Morley, B. M. 1976. Henry VIII and the Development of Coastal Defence. London: H.M.S.O.

O’Neil, Bryan H. 1966. Deal Castle, Kent. London: H.M.S.O.

Saunders, Andrew D. 1982. Deal and Walmer Castles. London: H.M.S.O.

nd the technology of warfare. With others at Walmer and Sandown, it epitomized Henry VIII’s new forts

De Stijl

Founded in Leiden, the Netherlands, in 1916, the group known as De Stijl was Europe’s most important theoretical movement in art and architecture until the mid-1920s, when leadership passed to Germany.

In 1916 the architect J. J. P. Oud met the critic and painter Theo van Doesburg and soon introduced him to another young architect, Jan Wils. First forming De Sphinx artist’s club in Leiden, the three founded, with the railwayman-philosopher Anthony Kok and the painters Piet Mondrian, Bart van der Leck, and expatriate Hungarian Vilmos Huszár, the group known as De Stijl. Others joined them: the fiery Communist Robert van ’t Hoff and the Belgian sculptor Georges Vantongerloo (both in 1917); the furniture

designer Gerrit Rietveld (1918); the architect Cor van Eesteren (1922); and the painter César Domela (1924). Later arrivals were balanced by departures.

The first manifesto was issued in November 1918, though not all the members signed it. Therefore, De Stijl should never be thought of as a group in the sense that, say, the Pre-Raphaelites or the Impressionists were groups. The members never reached unity of purpose; there were no meetings; and membership seems to have lain in contributing to De Stijl, a polemical journal jealously conducted by van Doesburg. He stretched and frayed their fragile ties by personality issues, and the whole fabric unraveled as members withdrew one by one, unable to work with him. Van der Leck lasted only until 1918; Wils and van ’t Hoff left in 1919; Oud and Vantongerloo two years later; and Mondrian in 1925. Others briefly established links with van Doesburg, but after 1925 only he was left to continue the magazine, by then published only spasmodically. He died in 1931.
Many De Stijl members were influenced by Theosophical doctrine and, subscribing to a holistic worldview “in which the geometric [was] the essence of the real,” they sought unity within the arts and between art and society. Perhaps because its mysticism, religion, and philosophy offered a palliative for the problems of burgeoning capitalism, Theosophy appealed to many in the industrializing world at the fin de siècle. Socialism was an important factor at the time of De Stijl’s birth and for some members social issues were all. They so concerned van ’t Hoff that, unwilling to work for middle-class clients, he soon forsook architecture altogether. Seeking an appropriate architecture, the others explored Constructivism, temporarily preached Neoplasticism, and generated what Oud called Cubism, but theory seldom extended to architectural realities. The few realized projects were spectacular: van Doesburg’s Café Aubette, Strasbourg (1926–1927, with Jean Arp and Sophie Taeuber-Arp), carried “painting into architecture, theory into practice.”
Rietveld’s Schröder house demonstrated De Stijl ideas and became an icon of European Modernism. In 1921, Rietveld began to collaborate with the interior designer Truus Schröder-Schrader. The tiny house in Utrecht (1924) that he designed for her expresses, more than anything else undertaken by the group, the principles valued by De Stijl. Earlier, Rietveld had collaborated with his De Stijl colleagues on fragments of schemes and unrealized projects. What they had been able to only dream of or explore in scale models, Rietveld built as his first complete architectural work.
The division among Dutch architects on religious and political grounds prevented wider acceptance of De Stijl’s ideas within the Netherlands. De Stijl became an international journal (or rather, by van Doesburg’s duplicity, an illusion of one), and through its pages and his personal preaching he shared with Europe the message of an architectural climax. De Stijl was moribund when van Doesburg died in 1931, but for a moment or two, through it, the Dutch had supplied a lot of theoretical and rather less practical input to modern architecture. Not least, by commenting upon his work to a wide audience, they provided a gateway for Frank Lloyd Wright’s “peaceful penetration of Europe.” In 1936 Alfred Barr of the New York Museum of Modern Art perceptively remarked that De Stijl had overshadowed German architecture and art in the mid-1920s. Moreover, had van Doesburg’s attempted insinuation into the Dessau Bauhaus succeeded, that critically important school of architecture and design would have been turned toward Russian Constructivism.

Further reading

Blotkamp, Carel, ed. 1986. De Stijl, the Formative Years, 1917–1922. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Friedman, Mildred, ed. 1982. De Stijl, 1917–1931: Visions of Utopia. New York: Abbeville Press.

Overy, Paul. 1991. De Stijl. New York: Thames and Hudson.

De Re Aedificatora

Leon Battista Alberti’s theoretical treatise on architecture, titled De Re Aedificatoria (About Buildings), was dedicated in 1452 but not published until 1485. What qualifies it as an architectural feat? It changed the understanding and practice of architecture in much of Europe and continued to influence developments there and in the New World for about 400 years. Although he was gathering the ideas for the book, Alberti (1404–1472) was not an architect but a Catholic priest.

Alberti was born in Genoa, the illegitimate child of Lorenzo, an exiled Florentine from a family of bankers. When he was about ten years old, Battista (he added “Leon” later) entered a boarding school in Padua to receive a basic classical education. Several years of legal studies at the University of Bologna led to a doctorate in church law in 1428, after which he went to Florence. He soon began writing. His first published anthology of poems, Il cavallo (The Horse) of 1431, was quickly followed by Della famiglia (About the Family)—the first of many philosophical dialogues—and La tranquillità (Composure), a collection of essays, short stories, and plays, both in 1432. By then he was employed as a secretary in the Papal Chancery in Rome and was about to undertake a lives of the saints and martyrs, written, as was fashionable, in classical Latin. Living in Rome opened Alberti’s eyes to classicism, although the city was to remain neglected for another fifteen years. In 1434 he wrote a study about urban design entitled Descriptio urbis Romae (Description of the City of Rome), in which he first explored the classical notion that beauty existed in harmony, achievable through mathematical rules.
Alberti’s future lay not in the law but in the church. Taking holy orders, he would eventually become a canon of the Metropolitan Church of Florence in 1447. Other clerical offices and their benefits followed: abbot of San Sovino, Pisa, Gangalandi Priory, Florence, and the rectory of Borgo San Lorenzo in Mugello. In 1436 he completed his first major book, written in classical Latin, that touched upon architecture: De pictura (About Painting) was an attempt to bring system to perspective and set down rules for the painter to achieve concord with cosmic harmony. An Italian translation appeared in the same year.
From about 1434 Alberti traveled through northern Italy in the retinue of Pope Eugenius IV, visiting Florence, Bologna, and Ferrara, where, in 1438, under the patronage of Marchese Leonello, he began a more careful study of classical architecture, delving into the ten-part book De Architectura, written by one Marcus Vitruvius Pollio around 20 b.c. Alberti returned to Rome six years later and extended that study among the ancient buildings. When Nicholas V succeeded to the papacy in 1447, Alberti was appointed inspector of monuments, an office he held

until 1455. De Re Aedificatoria, written in classical Latin and structured in ten parts like Vitruvius’s De Architectura, was completed in 1452. Vitruvius’s book was its principal source and model, but Alberti also drew upon Plato, Pythagoras, and the Christian fathers; his own archeological studies; and, importantly, the consensus of contemporary architectural thought. Vitruvius had summarized the architectural practice of his day; Alberti went further to lay down universal rules.

As Italian society and fashions changed, from around 1420 the mason-architect had begun to be displaced, first by the artist-architect and then the courtier-artist-architect. With training in neither building nor art, Alberti wrote a book about the art of building that completed the metamorphosis of the architect into a dilettante-scholar; that made “design distinct from matter,” as he put it, and turned the art of architecture into an academic pursuit in which creativity and design skill could be honed to perfection simply by obeying a set of rules. Intuition was replaced with measurable absolutes. It gave architectural design a thoroughly developed theory of harmony and proportion and made it simple—at least in theory. According to some sources, the last Latin edition was a folio version in Bologna, of 1782. Translations and many derivative works found their way through western Europe.
Book I of De Re Aedificatoria defined design, set down the criteria for good architecture (convenience, stability, and delight), and discussed the basis of composition and proportion. Book II dealt with matters of professional practice and building materials. Book III addressed practical building construction. Book IV covered many aspects of civic design, and Book V dealt with plans for various building types. The next book explored the esthetic dimension of architecture, defining beauty as “a harmony of all the parts in whatsoever subject it appears, fitted together with such proportion and connection, that nothing could be added, diminished or altered, but for the worse.” It also included a section on mechanical and technical details. Alberti’s strong attachment to antiquity was revealed in Books VII and VIII, that took up the subjects of ornament in religious buildings and Roman urban design, respectively. In Book IX the axiomatic principle underlying Renaissance architecture was restated: that beauty is an innate property of things, achieved by following cosmic rules. Then there was an assortment of chapters about mostly practical issues. Book X descended to the pragmatic: water supply, engineering, repairing cracks, and even how to get rid of fleas.
Alberti applied his theories in only a few buildings, mostly unfinished renovations or extensions. They included the facades of the Church of San Francesco (otherwise known as Tempio Malatestiano) of 1450, in Rimini; the facades of the Palazzo Rucellai (1446–1451) and Santa Maria Novella (1458–1471), both in Florence; and San Sebastiano (1459) and Sant’Andrea (1470–1472), both in Mantua. His biographer Giorgio Vasari wrote in 1550, “His writings possess such force that it is commonly supposed that he surpassed all those who were actually his superiors in art” and added, “He was a person of the most courteous and praiseworthy manners … generous and kind to all.”

Further reading

Alberti, Leon Battista. 1988. On the Art of Building in Ten Books. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Borsi, Franco. 1989. Leon Battista Alberti: The Complete Works. New York: Electra/Rizzoli.

Vasari, Giorgio. 1991. Selections from the Lives of the Artists. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.

Curtain walls

Traditionally, the wall of a building served both structural and environmental purposes. That is, it carried to the ground the weight of the building and its contents and, while admitting air and light through openings, protected the interior from extremes of weather, noise, and other undesirable intrusions. The introduction of structures in which the loads are carried by beams and columns liberated the wall from load bearing, allowing it to function solely as an environmental filter—a relatively thin, light curtain, so to speak. This was first seen in the later medieval cathedrals with their vast stained-glass windows, but it would not be widely developed until the nineteenth century, with the advent of metal-framed architecture and, subsequently, reinforced concrete. The metal-and-glass membrane supported by the building frame, known as the curtain wall, is principally associated with multistory office buildings after about 1880.

Although the first skyscrapers, such as the Rookery (1885–1886) and Monadnock Building (1889–1891), both in Chicago and both designed by architects Burnham and Root, had thick conventional load-bearing walls, the twin economic necessities of getting buildings up quickly and optimizing the quantity and quality of interior space soon led to buildings whose outer walls consisted almost entirely of windows supported by perimeter columns and beams. This was a first step toward the development of a true curtain wall, that is, a continuous wall in front of the structural frame. The earliest example was Albert Kahn’s Packard Motor Car Forge Shop in Detroit (1905). A curtain of glass in steel frames allowed more space

and light in the factory, just as it would in an office tower, and Kahn again employed it for the Brown-Lipe-Chapin gear factory (1908) and the T-model Ford assembly plant in Highland Park, Michigan (1908–1909). This rational industrial architecture drew the admiration of Europe and was emulated in Peter Behrens’s A. E. G. Turbine Factory (1909–1910) in Berlin and Gropius and Meyer’s Fagus Works in Alfeld-an-der-Leine, Germany, of 1911.

It is widely accepted that the first office block with a curtain wall was Willis Jefferson Polk’s eight-story Hallidie Building (1917–1918) in San Francisco. Although it was cluttered in places with florid cast-iron ornament, the street facade, suspended 3 feet 3 inches (1 meter) in front of the structure by brackets fixed to cantilevered floor slabs, presented an unbroken skin of glass. Elsewhere, others dreamed of crystal prisms in which the building’s whole external membrane was glass: the serried towers of H. Th. Wijdeveld’s Amsterdam 2000 (1919–1920) and Le Corbusier’s Ville Contemporaine (1922) and—probably best known—the skyscrapers Ludwig Mies van der Rohe projected between 1919 and 1923. But dreams and visions they remained, because the technology was not yet available to turn them to reality. One exception was the A. O. Smith Research Building in Milwaukee (1928–1930) by Holabird and Root, the first multistory structure with a full curtain wall (rather than a single facade) of large sheets of plate glass supported on aluminum frames.
Spin-offs from defense technologies after World War II paved the way for tall curtain wall buildings. Important among them was cost reduction in the production of aluminum, whose corrosion resistance could be improved by a process known as anodizing. This lightweight metal could be extruded into the complicated profiles needed to frame the glass and strengthen the wall against wind loads. Reliable cold-setting synthetic rubber sealants had also become more widely available. These advances were combined with more efficient sheet glass manufacture, especially polished cast glass and, after 1952, the much flatter float glass. Wall elements could be fabricated off-site to exacting tolerances and then transported, assembled, fixed, and glazed with none of the “wet” processes that impede building contracts. Relevant engineering developments included reverse-cycle air-conditioning—available since 1928—and fluorescent lighting, first demonstrated at the 1938 Chicago World’s Fair. All these technologies were exploited in Pietro Belluschi’s twelve-story Equitable Building in Portland, Oregon (1944–1948), described by one historian as “an ethereal tower of sea green glass and aluminum.” Another writer asserts that it “set styles for hundreds that came after.”
The thirty-nine-story United Nations Secretariat Building in New York City followed in 1947–1952. The final design was developed from a proposal by Le Corbusier, and Wallace Harrison acted as executive architect in consultation with him. The curtain walls of the Secretariat Building’s east and west facades are all glass, cantilevered 27 inches (80 centimeters) from the line of the perimeter columns; black-painted glass spandrels hide the between-floor spaces. The blue-green tinted windows are of “Thermopane,” a special glass that absorbs radiant heat, preventing it from reaching the interior, thus reducing the load on the air-conditioning system. The only breaks in the sheer curtain wall are full-width air-conditioning intake grilles at four levels. Because of its innovation, and no doubt because of its associations, the U.N. Secretariat, together with Mies van der Rohe’s Lake Shore Drive Apartments (1951) in Chicago and Skidmore, Owings, and Merrill’s Lever House (1952) on Park Avenue, New York, contributed to the universal standard for high-rise buildings.
The latter building, a twenty-four-story, green-tinted glass and stainless steel tower, designed by Gordon Bunshaft, marked a change of direction in American corporate architecture and in the way New Yorkers built. In keeping with the wishes of a client who made household cleaning products, Bunshaft produced an immaculate, clean-lined tower. The architectural critic Lewis Mumford called it “an impeccable achievement.” The top three floors are reserved for mechanical services. A mobile gantry carries a window cleaners’ platform that serves all faces of the building; such devices became standard for the curtain wall office buildings that followed. Lever House was the first skyscraper to exploit the allowable plot ratios in city planning regulations. By

occupying only a quarter of the site, it allowed much more natural light to enter the offices than conventional stepped-back skyscrapers that covered the whole allotment. Lever House is a New York historic landmark, and in November 1999 a $10.7 million contract was let to renovate its curtain walls, designed by Skidmore, Owings, and Merrill under the supervision of the New York City Historical Society.

That leads us to the inherent problems in curtain wall construction, for all of its advantages. In forty-five years, the pristine facades failed in a number of ways—water penetration and consequent damage, corrosion, and broken glass panels. Since their inception, curtain wall systems have been continually revised, most changes geared toward reducing weight while retaining strength. Stiffened sheet aluminum, enameled steel laminated with insulation, and later even thin sheets of stone were used for spandrel panels. The design of joints—problem spots for leaks—was improved and more durable sealants were invented. More recently, the availability of reliable adhesives has allowed architects to indulge in so-called “fish tank” joints between glass panels, doing away with framing bars. Glass technology has also been refined. Double glazing, first manufactured in the 1940s, improves both the sound and thermal insulation of curtain walls. Heat-absorbing glass, already available in the 1950s, evolved in the following decade into reflective glass with thin metallic coatings, also used to reduce heat gain within buildings. In 1984 heat mirror glass was developed; when combined with double glazing, its insulating value approaches that of masonry, but the esthetic effect seems to be a denial of the form of the building: all it does is reflect what’s around it.
Given that the two significant advantages of curtain wall construction are the reduction of weight and speed of erection, it might be concluded that it costs less than conventional work. That is not necessarily true, because its behavior as an environmental filter, especially in relation to heat flow, may result in higher air-conditioning costs. Often, the preciousness of the architect’s detailing increases costs, as evidenced by Mies van der Rohe’s bronze-and-brown-glass Seagram Building (1954–1958) in New York City. It cost $36 million, approximately twice as much as office towers normally did.
The tall glass prism was the major contribution of the United States to the so-called International Style of modern architecture. But its glorious day passed with the rise of postmodernism, and the crystal towers that Frank Lloyd Wright dismissed as “glass boxes on stilts” were replaced with less anonymous designs. Even Philip Johnson, Mies van der Rohe’s most ardent disciple, forsook the minimalist forms of curtain-wall architecture in favor of a more congenial architecture.

Further reading

Frampton, Kenneth, and Yukio Futagawa. 1983. Modern Architecture, 1851–1945. New York: Rizzoli.

Krinsky, Carol Herselle. 1988. Gordon Bunshaft of Skidmore, Owings, and Merrill. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Stubblebine, Jo, ed. 1953. The Northwest Architecture of Pietro Belluschi. New York: F. W. Dodge.

Wright, Sylvia Hart. 1989. Sourcebook of Contemporary North American Architecture: From Postwar to Postmodern. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold.

Crystal Palace London, England

The Crystal Palace, a vast demountable building designed by Joseph Paxton for the Great Exhibition of 1851 in Hyde Park, London, was in many ways crucial in the development of architecture: it was the pinnacle of innovative metal structure, it revealed the exciting potential of efficient prefabrication, and it was an early demonstration of the modern doctrine that beauty can exist in the clear expression of materials and function. Altogether, it was one of the most noteworthy buildings of the nineteenth century

The idea for a Great Exhibition came from the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce, and was given impetus by Henry Cole, then an assistant keeper in the Public Records Office. His wide interests extended to the publication of The Journal of Design that encouraged artists to design for industrialized mass production and urged manufacturers to employ them. That, he believed, would raise the quality of everyday articles. Cole was elected to the society’s council in 1846, and the following year, with others, he successfully solicited Queen Victoria’s consort, Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, to accept the role of its president. Under Royal Charter, and spurred by the success of French industrial expositions since 1844, the society held Exhibitions of Art Manufactures from 1847 through 1849.
After visiting the exclusively French exhibition in Paris in 1849, Cole realized that an international show would inform British industry of progress (and commercial competition) elsewhere in the world. Prince Albert, convinced that “that great end to which all history points—the realization of the unity of mankind” was imminent, caught the vision. The Royal Commission for the Exhibition of 1851 was established to expedite a self-financing “large [exhibition] embracing foreign productions.” It was envisioned as “a new starting-point from which all nations will be able to direct their further exertions,” but it was at the same time an expression of British nationalism. Britain had led the world into the Industrial Revolution, and her outlook was smug, to say the least. The Great Exhibition would provide a vehicle to flaunt her industrial, military, and economic superiority and justify her colonialism.
The show was to have a display area of 700,000 square feet (66,000 square meters), much bigger than anything the French had managed. That was too large even for the intended venue in the courtyard of Somerset House, so it was decided to locate it in Hyde Park. An open competition for the design of a building for the “Great Exhibition of the Works of All Nations” attracted 245 entries from 233 architects, including 38 from abroad. The Commissioners’ Building Committee liked none of them; besides, it was unlikely that any could have been completed on

time. Having prepared its own plan for a large dome standing on a brick drum, the committee called for bids. The result was alarming: building materials alone would have devoured at least half of the available funds of £230,000. Anyway, the design was generally considered ugly, especially by the architects whose proposals bad been rejected.

Fox and Henderson and Company, a firm of contractors, engineers, and ironmasters, tendered a price for an alternative, based on a design by the gardener Joseph Paxton. In 1826 Paxton had been appointed head landscape gardener at Chatsworth, the Derbyshire estate of the sixth Duke of Devonshire. He built large conservatories there, including one in 1886–1840 for the giant water lily, Victoria regia. Paxton claimed that his design for the Great Exhibition building was inspired by the structure of that lily, whose cross ribs strengthened the main radial ribs.
Learning that the invited architects had been turned down, Paxton had sketched out his proposal on a sheet of blotting paper—romantic tradition says it was during a train journey—and through a lucky meeting with a mutual friend he was able to show it to Cole. The idea was simple: a modular structure of a single cross section, built from prefabricated metal components, could be repeated ad infinitum to produce a building of any size. Paxton promised Cole that he would have detailed designs ready within a fortnight. In fact, they were completed in nine days and passed to Fox and Henderson on 22 June 1850. By then, the provision of a building was becoming urgent. Paxton’s proposal had the desirable advantage of rapid construction; moreover, unlike the other schemes, it could later be demounted to leave Hyde Park relatively undisturbed. The commission accepted it; the only modification asked for was a vaulted transept so the building could contain without damage the large elm trees on the site.
The Crystal Palace, as it was soon dubbed, was a single space, 1,851 feet long and 456 wide (554 by 136 meters), rising by 20-foot (6-meter) increments across flanking tiered galleries to a 66-foot-high (20-meter) central nave. It was intersected in the middle by a 108-foot-high (32-meter) vaulted transept. The building covered 19 acres (7.6 hectares) of Hyde Park. A filigree of 330 slender, cast-iron columns and arcades supported its clear glass walls and roofs and the wrought-iron beams that carried the galleries, alternately 24 feet (7.2 meters) and 48 feet wide.
Due largely to Paxton’s consummate organizational skills, Fox and Henderson accomplished its construction between September 1850 and January 1851. The Birmingham glassmaking firm of Chance Brothers supplied almost 294,000 panes, which were fixed in a specially designed roof-glazing system based on economical 49-inch-wide (1.25-meter) sheets that determined the module for the entire design. Building work oil-site consisted mostly of assembling the 3,920 tons (3,556 tonnes) of cast-iron components that came from ninety different foundries throughout Britain, often cast less than a day before they were fixed. The accuracy obtained through prefabrication and the mechanical fixing dramatically reduced the proportion of nonproductive labor common to traditional construction methods. Cast-iron columns were strength-tested, and on-site milling and machine painting included miles of timber-glazing bars. The building was decorated in red, green, and blue, and the columns were brightened with yellow stripes. The Crystal Palace established internationally a style and a standard for exhibition pavilions, next at Cork (1852), then at Dublin and New York (both in 1853), and Munich (1854).
The Great Exhibition opened on 1 May 1851, with more than 13,000 exhibits from around the world. By the time it closed six months later, over 6.2 million people had visited it. Despite popular insistence that the building should remain, it was scheduled for dismantling. A consortium bought it and it was, under Paxton’s supervision, reerected in a modified form in a park designed by him at Sydenham Hill, southeast London. Reopened by Queen Victoria in June 1854, the Crystal Palace became a national center for exhibits of industry, art, architecture, and natural history, all held under the auspices of the Crystal Palace Company. Sporting events took place in the park from about 1857 and for twenty years after 1895 it became the venue for Football Association Cup finals. Motor racing followed in 1936.

park now survives, and even that is under threat. The Crystal Palace Partnership, with representatives of five London boroughs and private-sector groups, is undertaking a £150 million regeneration scheme for Crystal Palace Park that includes its “restoration,” a concert platform, modernization of the National Sports Centre, and a so-called new Crystal Palace on the surviving 12-acre (4.8-hectare) terrace. The latter, an insensitive proposal for a utilitarian building housing a twenty-screen cinema multiplex with restaurants, bars, and rooftop parking for a thousand cars, provoked local residents to launch the Crystal Palace Campaign in May 1997. A challenge to the scheme is being mounted in the High Court on the grounds that the Crystal Palace Act of 1990 provides that any building on the site should be “in the style and spirit of the former Crystal Palace.”

Further reading

Bird, Anthony. 1976. Paxton’s Palace. London: Cassell.

Elliot, Cecil D. 1992. Technics and Architecture: The Development of Materials and Systems for Buildings. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

The Great Exhibition: London’s Crystal Palace Exposition of 1851. 1995. New York: Gramercy

In November of that year, the Crystal Palace was destroyed by fire. Only one terrace of the original

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