“American foursquare” refers to a house type that is little recognized in traditional
architectural history sources yet is visible in virtually any urban neighborhood developed
during the period 1900–40. Despite its lack of official approval, this hardy survivor was
far and away the dwelling of choice for generations of people with modest means
constructing or purchasing homes. The design was eminently practical: it was spacious, it
was passably attractive, and it was cheap.
Variously called “Builder’s Houses,” “American Basic,” “Square Houses,” “Box
Houses,” “double-deckers,” “double cubes,” “American Farm Houses” (something of a
misnomer, since the vast majority of these homes were built in cities and suburbs), or,
because of their sheer numbers across the land, “National Houses,” the houses themselves
remain clearly boxlike in their design.
The foursquare design is often not truly square. In its rectilinear proportions, lowhipped
roof, square plan, and simple facades, the foursquare resembles early prairie
houses of the Midwest made popular by the Prairie School architects. As American cities
grew, land values soared. Urban blocks were jammed with narrow lots, usually rectangles
with the short side abutting the street. Thus, the foursquare could often be somewhat
narrower in front and back and have longer sides to accommodate the site. As cities
expanded, urban—and finally suburban—growth allowed greater flexibility in building.
The foursquare house, once removed from the strictures of cramped, rectangular lots,
usually grew in size and, in the process, frequently became more ornamented. As a rule,
box houses located closer to traditional “downtowns” tend to be smaller and less ornate
than those found in outlying neighborhoods and suburbs.
The essentially cubelike shape is the initial indicator of the type. The American
foursquare is an efficient, self-contained box. No matter how many bays, wings, porches,
or other appendages the house might offer, the basic shape of the building should be
apparent. In addition, broad, overhanging eaves follow the upper perimeter of the
building, providing shade for the second story and the bedrooms therein and a settled
Encyclopedia of 20th-century architecture 78
look for the house as a whole. The rooflines growing from these extended eaves are
usually pyramidal. Unlike more expensive homes, chimneys are seldom of any great
aesthetic importance and are often made of concrete or brick. A large front dormer,
usually hipped like the roof, serves as a trademark and helps provide light and air to the
attic sections.
Windows are simple in both arrangement and presentation, usually standard, massproduced,
double-hung models that can be opened for maximum ventilation. As a rule, the lower half is a sheet of plain glass; the
upper portion usually consists of smaller panes grouped in one frame and divided by thin
muntins. In some of the more unadorned box houses, even the upper half of the window
is a single glass pane, further reducing costs. Because these homes were designed more
for utility than for architectural or stylistic purity, the windows are often irregularly
spaced, thereby serving the interior of the house in the allimportant admission of light
and air in the most efficient way.
Virtually every foursquare has a porch across its front. Decorative style for this
appendage varies, from a simple raised floor with an equally simple roof over it to
elaborate classical columns and railings that support an ornamented roof complete with
garlands, friezes, and fancy shingles.
A major selling point of the box house was its interior arrangement. Because these
homes are normally two-story structures, the first floor contains a spacious living room, a
formal dining area, a den, and an airy, well-equipped kitchen with pantry. The second
floor commonly consists of four large bedrooms, each with its own closet. Finishing off
this emphasis on livable space is an attic that offers either storage or the potential of still
Entries A–F 79
more rooms. A full basement—or “cellar,” as they were usually called at the time, a
dank, dark hole beneath the dwelling with a bare earth floor and no living amenities
whatsoever—typically houses the furnace and accompanying coal bin and little else.
As this immensely popular residential style gained momentum with buyers, it moved
from its initial simplicity to ever-more applied decoration. Plain clapboard or stucco
walls evolved into brick or shingle facades, and vestigial turrets, towers, and bays
sprouted out of the basic cube. The hipped roof might feature a widow’s walk at its apex,
or a balustrade might appear above the broad overhanging eaves.
Catalogs of simple plans—usually done by draftsmen, not architects—flooded the
market, offering, in essence, a massproduced house to anyone. Sears and Roebuck,
Montgomery Ward, Aladdin, Gordon Van Tine, and a host of other merchandisers had
long offered dwellings in kit form, and their box-style houses promptly became some of
their most popular models.
Following World War II, the style was completely eclipsed by innumerable tract
subdivisions that seemingly sprang up everywhere. The box house never achieved a
comeback, but in its brief 40-year history it has left its mark nonetheless. How many
thousands and thousands of box houses were built will never be known, but their legacy
endures in myriad ways. In many eastern American cities, the foursquare house—in sheer
numbers of extant structures—remains the dominant residential design.
Historians have at times attempted to link the origins of the box house to Federal-style
townhouses and to aspects of Italianate design and have even suggested that the
foursquare is really a reborn Georgian mansion, one more suited to the tastes and means
of the middle class. Although each of these theories contains an element of truth, each
also tends to overlook the pragmatism of the basic box house. The foursquare house, as
found in most of the nation’s cities, stands as the triumph of vernacular design on a
massive scale.
The foursquare house might find little space in the annals of American residential
design, but it has had a lasting impact on perceptions of what constitutes adequate
housing. In the early 20th century, middle-class Americans wanted more spacious homes
and larger lots. The box-type house satisfied both desires: substantially larger than most
other dwellings then available, the foursquare in turn required more land. More than has
been realized, the foursquare helped define both urban and suburban housing needs
throughout the country.
Emilio Ambasz
Architect, Argentina and United States
Emilio Ambasz is an Argentinia-born architect and designer whose international
design and architectural projects have made him a significant contributor to the history of
contextualized modernism in 20th-century architecture.
After completing military obligations, Ambasz applied to universities in the United
States and (with the recommendation of Williams) entered Princeton University under a
Palmer Fellowship to the School of Architecture as a freshman in 1963, placed in the
junior-year design studio his first semester, and switched to the first-year graduate
program his second semester. He completed his studies as a graduate student, receiving
his professional degree (a Master of Fine Arts) in two years, having been waived from the
undergraduate curriculum, and joined the faculty in 1966. Appointed as a lecturer,
Ambasz was promoted to assistant professor during 1966–69. In 1968 Princeton awarded
him the Philip Freneau (Class of 1771, Poet of the Revolution) Preceptorship, established
in 1949 as a bicentennial endowment to provide three years of research funds in
recognition of scholarship. In addition, he served as a visiting professor at the
Hochschule für Gestaltung in Ulm, Germany.
Ambasz drafted the charter for the Institute for Architecture and Urban Studies
(IAUS) in New York while on the faculty at Princeton and served as its deputy director,
dividing his time initially after joining the Architecture and Design Department of the
Museum of Modern Art of New York in mid-1969, where he served as its curator of
design from 1970 to 1976. His philosophical manifesto for design as the basis of
interdisciplinary discourse was articulated in “Institutions for a PostTechnological
Society: The Universitas Project” (1971), a working paper produced under the joint
auspices of both the Institute for Architecture and Urban Studies and the Museum of
Modern Art, from which several of his published writings were subsequently drawn.
Derived in part from the thought of Argentine philosopher Tomas Maldonado, Ambasz’s
work postulated the complementary nature of science and design, where the former deals
with the given (to reveal order) and the latter seeks to alter the future (to create order).
The Museum of Modern Art’s design collection reflects Ambasz’s vision of dialectic
between American high technology and the value-added qualities of European design. In
addition, he initiated several milestone exhibitions on architecture and industrial design.
“Italy: The New Domestic Landscape” (1972) was not only a comprehensive
investigation of the 1960s effect of Italian product design but also an intellectual
challenge to design “boundaries.”
It included the designed conversion of the objects’
shipping containers into exterior display kiosks that populated the Museum of Modern
Art’s Garden Court, effectively extending the exhibition beyond its programmed domain.
His exhibit “The Architecture of Luis Barragán” (1974) reintroduced a minimalist
modernism at a time when the historicist revivalism of postmodernism was emerging yet emphasized the Mexican architect’s lyrical and symbolic underpinnings. In
“The Taxi Project” (1976), Ambasz developed a “performance specification” for urban
taxis and, in a manner similar to his “Italy” show, called on industry to respond with
prototypes anticipating the “smart cars” of the late 1990s.
In 1976 Ambasz represented the United States in the Venice Biennale, the first of
many subsequent international exhibitions of his work. This coincided with the formal
opening of his firm, Emilio Ambasz & Associates, and the first of a series of design
awards in the program of the journal Progres s ive Architecture, awarded to his design for the Grand Rapids
(Michigan) Art Museum. This building combined adaptive re-use of an existing Beaux
Arts building, contextual urban revitalization, and reformation of the building with the
intervention of an abstract transparent inclined planar roof, filling the interior of its C
shape and creating a major interior public space. At the same time, this building served as
a symbolic sign for the museum and an allegorical reference by means of a water cascade
over this roof surface.
Ambasz has characterized himself as an inventor. His design work has essentially
straddled the boundaries of a “critical” discourse, at all levels of its definition. This
embraces the tradition of Le Corbusier’s notion of normative standards and architectural
projects as prototypes of larger issues as well as Amancio Williams’s belief that
architecture is a creative act, postulating alternative models to the present condition. In a
method that combines the rational and the lyrical, and quoting Walter Gropius, “Develop
a technique, then give way to intuition,” Ambasz asserts that he does not design with
words; instead, he is a maker of images.
Ambasz’s images, moreover, might best be characterized as a fundamental purism
characterized by a process of extreme reduction in which the object aspect of the
architecture disappears, or at least nearly vanishes, through integration with the
Encyclopedia of 20th-century architecture 76
landscape. As a basic leitmotif of his work, this idea represents more than merely a
philosophical giving back of the land that the building occupies. It is a strategic gesture to
address the crisis of the object in mid-1980s design, to do away with the edifice. It
becomes the frame from within which to harness the site, as in much of the visual arts of
the preceding decades.
Among Ambasz’s works are the Fukuoka Prefectural International Hall (Fukuoka,
Japan), a Janus-like building addressing its urban streetfront and embracing an existing
park at its rear, which literally ascends the 16-story building, a theme extended in his
Phoenix Museum of History (Arizona) and the Myca Cultural and Athletic Center (Shin-
Sanda, Japan). Landscapein-building include the Union Station (Kansas City) and the
Nichi Obihiro Department Store (Hokkaido, Japan), where interior spaces become great
winter gardens, as if the landscape had developed internally. Building-in-landscape are
the Schlumbeger Research Laboratory complex (Austin, Texas), the House for Leo
Castelli (East Hampton, New York), the Lucille Halsell Conservatory (San Antonio,
Texas), Thermal Gardens (Sirmione, Italy), the Baron Edmond de Rothschild Memorial
Museum (Ramat Hanadiv, Israel), and the Barbie Doll Museum (Pasadena, California); in
all cases, these are fundamentally underground earth-sheltered structures as well as
“marked sites” in which man-made structures emerge from a seemingly continuous
landscape.
Projects that emphasize an aformal strategy of change and indeterminacy include the
Center for Applied Computer Research (Mexico City, Mexico), the New Orleans
Museum of Art (Louisiana), and at an urban scale, the Master Plan for the 1992 Universal
Exposition (Seville, Spain), which incorporate floating structures in a parklike setting or
themes of evolution grounded in a rigorous armature whose fabric is intended to
incorporate variety or actually devolve, such as with the Cooperative of Mexican-
American Grape Growers (California) or “Pro Memoria” Gardens (Ludenshausen,
Germany).
Ambasz’s career includes design in graphics, installations, and products for which he
holds a number of patents. His industrial design has involved formulating the process
from concept through manufacture: design, detail, patent, tools, and product. Often, there
is a mechanical invention fundamental to the concept: the “Vertebra” furniture series
(included in the design collections of both the Museum of Modern Art and the
Metropolitan Museum of Art) involved a dynamic reconfiguration to adjust to position,
further extended in the “Vertair” series, which developed a patented upholstery system
that expands and contracts. Ambasz has a wide range of products, from toothbrushes to
mechanical pens, including the development of diesel engines as chief design consultant
to Cummins Engine since 1980.
In 1989 he was featured in an exhibition, “Emilio Ambasz: Architecture,” at the
Museum of Modern Art (which traveled through 1995) and subsequently a one-man
show, “Emilio Ambasz: Architecture, Exhibition, Industrial and Graphic Design,” which
was designed by Shigeru Ban and traveled from 1989 to 1991. Although his work
continues to be published, particularly internationally, his products and graphics are
recognized by awards (several have also been accessioned to the Design Collection of the
Museum of Modern Art).
A citizen of Monaco with several international residences and offices in New York
and Bologna, Italy, Ambasz continues his production despite the demands of practice. In
Entries A–F 77
his publications, no projects are dated, and it is never clear whether they were built. In a
sense, this is the essence of Ambasz: to leave behind a Chinese puzzle that appears as one
thing but that contains complex interlockings to be revealed and discovered by others.
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