FINE ART: Crumpled Paper and Hot Glue

Gehry shows his madcap creative process

Susanne Forestieri

In both temperament and talent, Gehry is as much artist as architect.

Always relating to, and appreciated more by the former than the latter, his inspired designs–with shapes that fragment, intersect and explode in violent movement—evoke the cubism, futurism, and expressionism of modern painting and sculpture. All artists strive to break free of conventions and thereby express something individual; great artists go further to express something about the society and era in which they live.

Early in his career, Gehry didn't like the buildings he was designing, but he liked how he built his house, a light-filled space with angular, intersecting windows which he constructed around a pre-existing traditional home. Finally thinking outside the box, he went on to design some of the most awe-inspiring buildings of our time–buildings as restless as, and evoking the transience of, modern society; buildings so bizarre that he himself was surprised that anyone would risk building them. The exploding spirals of the Guggenheim Bilbao and undulating curves of the Brain Institute couldn't be constructed without the aid of cutting-edge computer technology.

Gehry's generosity in sharing all his designs, including the zany, allows us to follow his madcap creative process.

The first room is filled with assemblages of colored blocks called Scheme Models, not unlike what you might see in a pre-school play area. Each block is color-coded and built to scale, each representing one of the building's eight components. Typically, architects start with drawings and then build models based on them. Gehry's method of using wood blocks instead of drawings, allows him to quickly and cheaply try out many ideas to solve the spatial problems in three dimensions.

Moving into the Main Gallery we are catapulted into a different world. Some of the models look more like sculptures than edifices. For the Reception and Retail Kiosks, Gehry bends, twists, and folds paper into different configurations, eighteen of them in all. You can't miss the resemblance to Chinese take-out cartons. He's willing to take risks and experiment. He's not afraid to crumple paper to make designs more "cranky", or tear, rip, and otherwise abuse models to make them less "pompous". Elements are assembled with Scotch Tape, push pins, or wads of hot glue. The impression is one of creative frenzy.

All the components start to merge in the models grouped near the back wall of the exhibit. Because Gehry doesn't work in a linear progression, his process can be hard to follow; e.g., one model can be abandoned and then some of its features cannibalized for the next models.

Concepts can seem to appear out of nowhere unless you know their genesis.

For example, to expedite model making, architects use paper die-cut window patterns and glue them to models. Those sheets reminded Gehry of garden latticework, which reminded him of garden parties. That got him thinking it would be a nice concept for the Activity Center where fund-raising events would be held. He bent them into his signature, undulating curves that cascade over the front side of the building. Looking more like the aftermath of an explosion than a genteel garden, the effect can be disturbing. Even the client, Lou Ruvo, who gave Gehry free rein, might have had second thoughts. However, he wanted a distinctive design that would stand out amid the glitz that is Las Vegas, so he gave it the go-ahead.

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