Posts tagged with "Canadian Centre for Architecture":

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Phyllis Lambert looks back on her 75 years in architecture

For the occasion of her 90th birthday on January 24, architect Phyllis Lambert sent the following text about her life and career—from her early days as a sculptor to her work as a photographer, preservationist, and patron. It is taken from the exhibition Phyllis Lambert: 75 Years At Work, on view until April 9 at the Canadian Centre for Architecture in Montreal.

1 / Beginnings

Art has always been for me the essence of existence.

A sculptor from the age of nine, at eleven I began exhibiting in annual juried exhibitions at the Royal Academy of Arts and the Société des Sculpteurs du Canada. My sculpture teacher instilled in me objective self-criticism, and I learned manual skills and close observation. I have always drawn. As an undergraduate at Vassar College, in addition to studying art history, in the studio I focused on painting, intrigued by technique, especially that of Rubens (although this is not evident in the self-portrait). However, I was not interested in making small works for private collections. I dreamed of creating monumental sculpture in the public realm: Architecture would be the answer, but I did not know this yet.

2 / Seagram Building

With extraordinary good fortune five years out of college, and while studying the history of architecture at the Institute of Fine Arts at New York University, I became involved in my father’s decision to erect an office building for Joseph E. Seagram & Sons in New York City. In 1954, living and painting on my own in Paris, I received a proposal from him to which I responded in an eight-page, closely spaced typed letter beginning with one word repeated very emphatically: No No No No No. I concluded, “You must put up a building which expresses the best of the society in which you live... You have a great responsibility.” For me the new building had to be a wonderful place to be, to work, for people passing by on the street, for buildings around it, for the neighborhood, for the city, for the world.

With a mandate to select the architect, after six weeks visiting architects in their offices everyone was talking in terms of Mies. There was the aura and generosity of the man, the gentle power of his architecture. I chose Mies.

With the title of director of planning, my job, as I saw it, was to assure that Mies could build the project he envisioned. His beautifully proportioned bronze-clad building rose straight, set back from the street on its half-acre plaza. Seagram changed New York. After 1961, the New York City zoning code introduced incentive zoning to encourage open plazas at ground level by permitting developers extra floor space. Plazas appeared everywhere.

At the turn of the century, in The New York Times Magazine, Herbert Muschamp declared Seagram to be his choice for the millennium’s most important building, bringing the fusion of gothic and classical elements “in a supremely elegant whole.” “The business of civilization is to hold opposites together,” he wrote. “That goal, often reached through conflict, has been rendered here by Mies with a serenity unsurpassed in modern times.”

Contemporary artworks and those we commissioned were publicly accessible in the great spaces of the Four Seasons restaurant designed by Philip Johnson, and strategies were established for changing installations of sculpture on the plaza. It is also essential to note that high standards of documented maintenance have conserved the Seagram building’s exceptional value.

3 / Architecture School

Following four years immersed in the process of designing and building Seagram, in 1958 I entered the Yale School of Architecture. After a few semesters I found that Mies’s school at the Illinois Institute of Technology offered what I wanted to learn—the careful craft and consequences of putting materials together. Mies’s most brilliant student, Myron Goldsmith, was my lieber-meister. Our graduate class designed hangars for the new 747 airplanes. My master’s thesis, “A Study of Long-Span Concrete Roof Structures,” was written under the supervision of Goldsmith and the innovative structural engineer Fazlur Khan. Myron liked to say that I never did anything with this investigation; however, the work extended and intensified my predisposition for gathering information in the field, first-hand. 

With this proclivity and my passionate interest in the city, seizing on President Lyndon Johnson’s new anti-poverty “Model Cities Program,” I volunteered with Antonis Tritsis—a PhD student in urban planning who would later become minister of planning in Greece—to work on changing the city of Chicago’s plan to replace Bronzeville, a notoriously deteriorated neighborhood rich in Black cultural history, with new high-rise “ghettos.” The city ultimately designated Bronzeville as an area of “Conservation and Rehabilitation.” The experience proved to be an invaluable training ground for my work with community groups in Montreal.

Seagram was always on my mind. While in Chicago I made a scheme for Seagram East, and I also worked with the director of the mayor’s office of Midtown Planning and Development in New York City on the possibilities of transferring Seagram’s unused air rights in order to remove future pressure to build on the Seagram plaza. The present owner of the Seagram building has recently transferred the air rights to the adjacent site facing Lexington Avenue that he purchased, where he is now erecting a very tall tower.

4A / Projects: Saidye Bronfman Centre

After I obtained my master’s degree in 1963, my family commissioned me to design an arts center in Montreal to be known as the Saidye Bronfman Centre of the YM-YWHA, in honor of our mother. Fazlur Khan urged me to experiment with precast concrete; however, I wanted the personal experience of designing a Miesian structure. My intention was to connect building and community, so that people inside would be conscious of the landscape and of the people outside, and those outside would be aware of the activities inside. I especially loved the theater’s great seating shell, which is seen in the photographs. Unhappily, it was demolished in order to increase the number of seats.

Commuting to Montreal from my office in Chicago, I reconnected with the city I had left twenty years earlier and became aware of the unique architectural quality of its neighborhoods of greystone buildings.

4B / Projects: Photographic Missions

Greystone. A theory class in city planning at IIT raised my desire to tangibly understand city building. Photographing the greystone buildings of Montreal was a way to do so. I had worked with a 35mm camera to investigate structure and environment, but to avoid distortion and to obtain a high level of resolution I asked Richard Pare, a young Englishman studying photography in Chicago, to join me with a view camera.

Among the possible ways of analyzing city fabric, the focus on a material of construction provides insight into a wide range of topics. This approach would be impossible in cities like Paris or Jerusalem, where all buildings are faced with local stone. However, in Montreal, the North American city with the greatest number and concentration of stone construction, such focus is revelatory. At first pragmatic, Montreal gray limestone buildings came to hold special symbolic value. In the 17th and 18th centuries, thick stone walls provided protection against attack, against fire, against the cold. Eventually they became prestigious markers of status.

Observation of the architectural language of these buildings—which includes how the stone is cut and surfaced and laid, building location and siting—indicates not only the dates of construction, but also their ethnic, religious, political, economic, and social contexts, coupled with the aspirations of their owners and builders. Sectors possessing buildings with various combinations of these characteristics differentiate the territorial divisions of the city, which still correspond to the seigneurial system of land tenure established during the French regime.

Photographing greystone buildings (1972–1974) brought me back to Montreal to fight against urban demolition and heightened my desire to undertake more photographic missions.

Courthouse: A Photographic Document (1978), edited by Richard Pare, was initiated by me for the United States Bicentennial. Rather than photographing many buildings of one material and many functions contained in one city, this photographic mission investigated a single building type as it spread across the continent and the change in a nation’s view of itself. The county courthouse registers basic human transactions, but above all it embodies the rule of law, a fundamental component of American democracy. Wolf von Eckardt, in The Washington Post (May 20, 1978) found it to be equally as important as the Seagram Building as it “acquaints us with the richness and ingenuity of our own indigenous architecture.”

Similarly, under my direction, the Canadian Centre for Architecture (CCA) commissioned photographers to investigate other concepts relating to human settlement. Clara Gutsche and David Miller made the images of An Industrial Landscape Observed: The Lachine Canal (1992), a publication and an exhibition that traveled in the Montreal region, to raise awareness of the extraordinary spaces of 19th-century structures that were being abandoned but could be repurposed—as many have since. Viewing Olmsted (1996) is the work of three photographers of different generations and practices whom the CCA commissioned to investigate Frederick Law Olmsted’s design of landscape in different ecologies in all seasons. The project extended over seven years. The CCA continues to commission photographers as well as filmmakers in relation to exhibitions and publications.

5A / Conservation and Restoration: Montreal

Photographing in Montreal in the early 1970s brought me into contact with architects who felt an urgent need for Montrealers to know about the city’s overlooked buildings and unobserved history. Each contributor wrote a chapter for Exploring Montreal; my chapter is titled “The River Edges.” At the same time, Richard Pare and I focused with tripod and camera on greystone structures, passersby commented, “Why that building? It’s old, it will be demolished.”

The demolition of the Van Horne mansion on Sherbrooke Street in 1973 ignited twenty-three citizen groups to form Sauvons Montréal. In 1975, Héritage Montréal raised funds so that conservation groups could take action in order to give a face to each building, like family portraits. Our tools to stop demolition included marching in the streets, publishing ads and booklets, working with residents, and ultimately working with a whole neighborhood and the Federal government to establish Canada’s largest not-for-profit cooperative housing renovation, Milton-Parc. Also known as the McGill ghetto, Milton-Parc was exemplary; community values were asserted; no one was evicted, and families could continue to live in security in the downtown, without risk of gentrification.

Investment in renovating low- to medium-income neighborhoods is as important as the conservation of monuments or building anew. Since 1997 the Fonds d’investissement Montréal (FIM), which I head, has brought private sector investment to the urgent need for communitarian housing beyond the limits of government programs.

5B / Conservation and Restoration: Abroad

In the mid-seventies, along with urban guerrilla activities in Montreal, and distressed by wanton demolition in other cities and less-than-thoughtful real estate development, I formed a firm as architect and developer with Gene Summers (then partner-in-charge at C. F. Murphy Associates in Chicago and formerly Mies van der Rohe’s major assistant). We were convinced it was possible to vastly improve the quality of life in cities and also to be financially successful. We proved this in pioneering the renovation of a major hotel property, the 1,000-room Los Angeles Biltmore, which was slated for demolition. Built in 1921 in connection with the rise of the era of the automobile, the renovated hotel re-established its prominence and encouraged rebirth of part of the old downtown.

My work in conservation and renovation led the president of the World Jewish Congress, in connection with the Camp David Accords, to ask me to study the conditions, and then to take the steps needed to substantiate an interfaith religious center in Egypt. The very presence of the three monotheistic religions in close proximity in Old Cairo—the Ben Ezra Synagogue and the surrounding Coptic and Marianite churches within the fourth-century Roman fortifications, with the Mosque of Amr ibn al-As, the first mosque erected in Egypt, close by—offered the necessary context. The synagogue had been abandoned since the Six Day War: Were it to fall into ruin, the evidence of the cohabitation of the three religions would have been lost to history. Furthermore, its symbolic message was urgently needed. Conservation of the synagogue (whose foundations, we discovered, date from the 11th century) and its precinct was complicated and fascinating, but for me it was indispensable above all to document the process and to undertake and publish archaeological and historical research on the synagogue, for this was the only way to substantiate the existence of this cohabitation.

6 / Canadian Centre for Architecture (CCA): Idea and Design

More was needed to make architecture a public concern. Much more. Everyone seems to know something about painting, sculpture, and films, but not about architecture. Architecture frames our daily lives; it creates the medium in which we grow and learn, and live. Yet as an art form and social structure its language is mostly unknown. Clearly, architecture is unequivocally a public concern.

It was crucial to establish a place where the many aspects of creating the built world could be discussed, a new type of cultural institution, with the specific aim of increasing public awareness of the role of architecture in contemporary society and promoting scholarly research in the field. An international and interrelated collection composed of prints, drawings, photographs, architectural archives, and books would support research and induce knowledge and debate generated through publications, exhibitions, seminars, and other programs. Such places existed only in part. I discussed creating such a place with art historian and museum director Daniel Robbins and asked him to undertake a study of the mission, collections, operations, and staffing of institutions with related programs, whether library or museum or research center.   

Slowly and in stages the collection was formed in temporary quarters in New York and Montreal. Our activities tested conservation, operational requirements, and programming for the design of a purpose-built institution. Finally the Shaughnessy House (which was built in 1874 and I had acquired in 1974 to stop the wave of demolition in the city—and it was then classified as a heritage building) and new construction would accommodate the CCA that I planned. In the fall of 1983, Peter Rose and I began to discuss qualities of light and air needed to enjoy and yet protect the works of art on paper of which the collection is largely composed. We tried many ways of relating the mansion and the much larger new structure. We wished to make the new building and the restored Shaughnessy House an inspiring place to be, for those who work there, those who engage in research, and those viewing exhibitions or consulting the collection. Construction began in May 1985; the building opened to the public in May 1989; Melvin Charney’s sculpture garden, which is part of the Quebec government’s program for the integration of art and architecture, was dedicated a year later.

The mandate for the CCA building and Mel Charney’s garden was to repair the damage to the urban fabric caused by mid-century in-town-highway engineering. The intention for the garden, like the intentions for the research center and museum, was to initiate dialogue between architecture, nature, and the urban fabric, and to relate architecture’s past and present, evoking its future.

7 / CCA Explorations

The CCA was conceived and designed to fulfill several functions: to collect (as a museum and research library); to archive and document (conservation and curation); to support research (a study center); and to conceptualize and broadcast knowledge (exhibitions and publications). In the early years after opening, we discovered ways of presenting ideas about architecture. I have selected a few exhibitions that have represented our purposes and provided a sense of the broad range of our collection as well as the research involved in their presentation.

Our first exhibition and publication, Photography and Architecture: 1839–1939, not only showed the CCA’s unique collection for the first time, but also established the subject, bringing together these two arts when they were beginning to be recognized as art forms in their own right, and their artifacts purposefully collected. The exhibition traveled to Cologne, Paris, New York, and Ottawa from 1982 to 1984, even before the design for the CCA building had begun.

In 1989, its building complete, the CCA held its opening exhibition, Architecture and its Image: Four Centuries of Architectural Representation. It was designed to present works from our collection cutting across media, period, and place while also providing an in-depth look into the nature of architectural representation and insight into the purposes of the CCA. The exhibition emphasized the fact that architectural artifacts are not actual buildings, but evidence of the study and critical thought inherent in their creation.

The Pantheon: Symbol of Revolution, also exhibited in our inaugural year, demonstrated that a number of related works, of different mediums, different dates, acquired at different times, from different sources, can provoke new research and interpretation when held by one institution. At the CCA, drawings, prints, books, and various printed documents and manuscripts show key aspects of the creation of Soufflot’s church Sainte-Geneviève for Louis XV and its transformation to the Panthéon, temple of the great men of France during the French Revolution. Soufflot’s classical church revolutionized French ecclesiastical architecture. However, his use of columns, rather than massive piers, to support a heavy dome caused structural problems threatening its stability. The collection holds numerous documents from the early 19th century studied by famous architects and engineers to stabilize the building. Other documents relate to desacralization of the church during the French Revolution, and the changes made in order to create an atmosphere commensurate with the Panthéon, in which the illustrious dead of the nation are buried. After its return to worship in 1822 under the restoration of the monarchy (indicated by a pediment design by Baltard), the church’s vocation as the Panthéon, a civic monument, was finally and definitively reasserted with the funeral of Victor Hugo in 1885.

Opening the Gates of Eighteenth-Century Montreal was the first of a series of exhibitions over the years, in which the CCA explored unknown histories of Montreal. A decade of unprecedented research on the walled town was based on extensive archival material on land holding and building contracts, together with volumes on civil law and other primary sources, undertaken by the Groupe de recherche sur Montréal, which I had formed. The exhibition and book focus on the interrelationships of three key elements of Montreal’s urban form over a century and a half: the fortifications; the ownership, distribution, and use of property within the fortifications; and the character of buildings. For the exhibition, the CCA borrowed extraordinary, essentially unknown artifacts from museums and archives in France, Ottawa, Quebec, and Montreal, and, in its first venture in the use of the digital, created interactive databases to reconstruct aspects of the town and its defences through which visitors could navigate the streets of Montreal three hundred years ago.

In the years approaching the 100th anniversary of Mies van der Rohe’s birth, the Museum of Modern Art in New York, based on its holdings, planned the exhibition and publication Mies in Berlin, and the CCA, based on its holdings, planned Mies in America. Mies had declared in 1955, “My kind of architecture they should just call a structural approach,” but his work in America was not understood. Closely studying his drawings at MoMA and the CCA, I set out to learn how, after 1939, in the heartland of industrial America, step by step, Mies moved from the romantic poetics of his German years to the poetics of a rational, structural architecture. Mies commented on the difference between the way we think about and use the word structure. In the English language, he said, everything is a structure. In Europe it is not so. A shack is called a shack and not a structure. “By structure we had a philosophical idea. The structure is the whole from top to bottom, to the last detail—with the same ideas.” In addition to exhibiting drawings and models, we commissioned films in order to help to immerse the visitor in Mies’s idea. The exhibition opened in 2001 at the Whitney Museum in New York and traveled to Chicago before its last showing in Montreal. Mies in America was my last exhibition as director of the CCA.

For more details on Phyllis Lambert: 75 Years At Work, on view until June 4 at the Canadian Centre for Architecture (CCA) in Montreal, see the CCA's website here.

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The Greg Lynn Show LIVE: Schumacher, Denari, and more at the CCA

The Architect's Newspaper (AN) is live at the taping of the Greg Lynn Show at the Canadian Centre for Architecture in Montreal. Greg Lynn, curator of Archaeology of the Digital, is hosting a talk show that will serve as the public program for the opening of part 3: Complexity and Convention. "It will be all about the 90s" today, as the exhibition focuses mainly on the genesis of digital design and production. Part 3 is about seminal projects that have set standards for today's buildings. Live updates will come throughout the day. Lynn starts the show off by introducing the guests, including "stand-up comedian and special effects guru Neil Denari," and Patrik Schumacher, who is promoting his new book, "Para-Patrik Schumacher," which is about being Patrik Schumacher. UPDATE 2:32 EDT Denari is the first guest is Denari, who said that not much has changed since the 90s, as the software is not that much different, just easier to use. The impetus now is on pushing the concept further. This sort of supports Lynn's thesis for the show, which is that these are the seminal projects that still impact designers today. Denari thinks that drawing is still very important today, as 80-85 percent of the work today exists only as drawings, so much lives only in the digital world. It is very important to preserve and care for these files. Also, he said that figuration, abstraction, realism, and hyper-realism are as important today as they were in the early days of digital. OCEAN North was a collaborative that had several factions across Europe in the 90s. Kivi Sotamaa and Johan Bettum comprised OCEAN North, whose Jyvaskyla Music and Arts Center was at the front of digital and collaborative knowledge. They were using the computer to produce forms and working processes that included many actors. Sotamaa mentioned that the aesthetic they liked happened to be suitable for this type of work—if they were minimalists, they probably would not have used it. Bettum continued, "We had some radical political ideas about architecture that challenged existing conceptions of social space, and the computer allowed us to confront those." Up next is Enric Ruiz Geli, whose Villa Nurbs is still under construction after more than a decade of innovating and inventing new construction methods. The new relationships between clients, builders, manufacturers, and architects took many of the middlemen out and made the design closer to the architect's vision. "We were sending files like emails," he explained of this radical new way of working. UPDATE 3:04 EDT The always provocative Francois Roche up next, and Lynn says that there are several projects under plexiglass to protect the objects, but Roche's spiky Water Flux models are under plexiglass to protect the show from Francois. "I am not a digital masturbator," said Roche. "I wish I were a masturbator." The political agenda of Roche's project extends from ecology, but today he was discussing more about how "tooling is not innocent," as the new methods allow new meanings and relationships on the site. He said he is interested in how machines can transform a situation as an assemblage of parts. Ulirch Konig of Chemnitz Stadium fame explained how industry and military industries are innovating with digital technology. Cars went through the digital revolution a decade before architecture because architecture is slow. Lynn disagreed. Konig says that the digital revolution changed the visual language of architecture and what is possible aesthetically, but will now change how we live and how cities work, for example with autonomous driving. Peter Testa and Devin Weiser wrote some of the first scripts that were used in generative architectural design. They made scripts for weaving and braiding, which was different than some of the typical surface projects of the time. They told stories of how they crashed many computers and still do today, as they push the boundaries of what is possible through computation. Nader Tehrani claims that his work, Witte Arts Center by Office dA, is the least digital in the show. "We will be the judge of that," said Lynn. Their brickwork benefitted from the computer in the possibility of composition and construction, but not really as much in aesthetics. They pushed bricks further than they had been, such as finding all the increments in between the Flemish and standard bonds. Photoshop also came up in the conversation. Alejandro Zaera-Polo "was just a peasant from Spain," which made him interested in the hard work of drawing the Yokohama Port Terminal in AutoCAD himself. Rafael Moneo once told him it was interesting in the worst way possible. Japanese architects, however responded much differently, as they were surprised at the efficiency with which it was produced. Wolf Prix is up next, and makes an illusion to his inflatables in the 1960s as a proto-cloud. This connection between pneumatic structures and data comes from his idea that he doesn't care about the computer, but about new ways of making spaces that haven't been seen before. The BMW Welt project and its film are in the show. Prix explained how BMW wanted a huge model to demonstrate how the building would work and look. They couldn't do a 1:1 model, but instead made a very intricate movie that involved mixing physical models and digital surfaces, and a film crew of 30 with catering and everything. The final cost was 800,000 euros, but it convinced BMW to make the building, mostly because they saw a scale car, and it let them know it was a big building. Patrik Schumacher is here to talk about the Phaeno Science Center, a seminal work by Zaha Hadid Architects. MAXXI and the CAC in Cincinnati were also completed around this time. The delivery of the building required sophisticated millwork to produce the formwork for curved waffle-slabs. Some of these projects had the benefit of German engineering, but projects in places like Azerbaijan and China, where construction technology was not as sophisticated. The early work in Europe was good practice for these more complicated contexts. He explained that the modernist movement came about in the 20s, but only transformed the world in the 1960s, after an interruption from WW2. Likewise, he said, the digital came about in the 90s, and has been interrupted, but it is time now for the digital and parametric to transfrom the world: not as art, but as a complete reworking of the way we make society.
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On View> Canadian Center for Architecture presents “Found in Translation: Palladio–Jefferson”

Thomas Jefferson embraced the architecture of Andrea Palladio as model for 18th century America, but he never actually visited any of the Veneto architect's buildings. Instead he came to know Palladio through Giacomo Leoni's first English translation of Quatro Libri dell'Architettura published in 1721. Now a beautifully-realized photographic exhibition, Found in Translation: Palladio–Jefferson, at the Canadian Center for Architecture in Montreal subtly focuses on Jefferson's translation of Palladian architectural form into buildings for the new democratic nation. Created and conceived by the Italian photographer Filippo Romano and Guido Beltramini, director of the Palladio Museum, the show features side-by-side images of Palladio's Veneto buildings and Virginia 'replicas' in the master's style. The exhibit also features original Palladio and Leoni books. Rather than focus on the American translation—which many scholars and artists have already done—this show highlights the American structures as a way of highlighting the master's resilient but irreducible Italian architecture. Romano's images all foreground the architecture in contemporary situations—being visited, for example, by tourists—to remove a second time from its original context and further highlight the architecture's enduring principles. The show runs until February 15th in the CCA's Octagonal Gallery and bookstore.
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Obit> Mildred “Mickey” Friedman, 1929–2014

Mildred Friedman, the longtime design curator of Minneapolis' Walker Art Center and a prolific architectural author, died Wednesday at her home in New York City. She was 85. Friedman, whose friends called her “Mickey,” ran the Walker for 21 years with her husband, Martin, who was its director. Together they made it “America's leading design museum,” according to a tribute from Architectural Record on the occasion of the couple's “retirement” in 1990.

As the museum's design curator, Ms. Friedman also edited its publication, Design Quarterly, which she managed deftly, according to Andrew Blauvelt, the Walker’s senior curator of design, research, and publishing. "With its singular focus, generous reproductions, and smart design, it was decidedly not one of those dry and often poorly designed, peer-reviewed, academic journals,” wrote Blauvelt in a remembrance. “Although it’s been more than 20 years since DQ ceased publication, the void that it left has never been filled.”

Much of her work curating and editing Design Quarterly would spin off into publications. Friedman wrote or co-wrote dozens of books, including Graphic Design in America: A Visual Language History, the first large-scale museum survey of the field.

Since 1990, she and her husband had lived in New York City, where Ms. Friedman continued writing and curating at institutions including the Guggenheim Museum, the Canadian Centre for Architecture, and the Brooklyn Museum.

Under Friedman, shows at the Walker were not just shows but immersive experiences.

“In Mickey’s hands, a design show was never simply about a subject, but drew upon the principles and power of design itself to create a compelling experience,” wrote Blauvelt. “ This particular strategy of restaging, wherein visitors can not only look at works of art on view but also experience them directly and even viscerally, certainly drew upon Mickey’s skills and experience in interior design but also signaled a powerful new curatorial technique.”

In the Twin Cities design community, her influence was profound. The Minneapolis Star-Tribune quoted Dan Avchen, chief executive of HGA Architects and Engineers:

Mickey was instrumental in defining the architectural landscape of the Twin Cities by connecting patrons to architects … She was the design maven of the Twin Cities for many years and she had a huge impact— huge.

Friedman's legacy is inextricably linked to those of many 20th century architects. Her 1986 exhibition of Frank Gehry's work bolstered the architect's career—a feat she replicated by championing the likes of Elizabeth Diller, Ricardo Scofidio, Tod Williams, Billie Tsien and César Pelli, whom she also helped win commissions in the region by suggesting them for local landmark projects.

Born Mildred Shenberg in 1929, Ms. Friedman grew up in California. She met Martin Friedman at UCLA, where her future husband was teaching drawing as a graduate student in art history and painting. They married in 1949.

In 1980 she started the Mildred S. Friedman Design Fellowship, a program to give recent design graduates experience in her design studio at the Walker Art Center.

Her survivors include her husband, three daughters, and six grandchildren.

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The Golden Lion Roars for Phyllis Lambert at Venice Biennale

The board of the Venice Biennale announced today that Phyllis Lambert is the 2014 recipient of the Golden Lion for Lifetime Achievement for the 14th Architecture Biennale, Fundamentals. Best known for championing the selection of Mies van der Rohe to design the Seagram Building for her family and for founding the Canadian Centre for Architecture, Lambert has worked as an architect, author, curator, and advocate for contemporary architecture and historic preservation. In a statement, board chair Paolo Barata praised Lambert's contribution to the field:
Not as an architect, but as a client and custodian, Phyllis Lambert has made a huge contribution to architecture. Without her participation, one of the few realizations in the 20th century of perfection—the Seagram Building in New York—would not have happened. Her creation of the Canadian Centre for Architecture in Montreal combines rare vision with rare generosity to preserve crucial episodes of architecture's heritage and to study them under ideal conditions. Architects make architecture; Phyllis Lambert made architects.
She will be presented with the award on June 7 at the Biennale.
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On View> Modernism in Miniature at the Canadian Centre for Architecture

Modernism in Miniature: Points of View Canadian Centre for Architecture 1920, rue Baile Montréal, Québec Through January 8 Modernism in Miniature examines the relationship between architectural model-making and photography, spanning the years 1920 to 1960. It posits model photography as its own genre, exploring the evolution and visual methods used to capture these miniature architectural representations. Focusing on the encounter between media and architecture, the exhibition investigates the link between design and mass media with themes such as “Object and Image” and the “Art of Simulation.” Models by architects including Mies van der Rohe, Oscar Niemeyer, Le Corbusier, and Carlo Mollino (his model for a San Remo apartment, above) illustrate the changing architectural expression and visual representation of mid-century modernism.
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On View> Architecture in Uniform: Designing and Building for the Second World War

Architecture in Uniform: Designing and Building for the Second World War Canadian Centre for Architecture 1920, rue Baile Montréal, Québec, Canada Through September 18 How did World War II impact the built environment? This new exhibit curated by Jean-Louis Cohen explores how 20th century architects contributed to the war efforts and how their work ultimately led to the modern structural and technological innovations that make some of today’s complex designs possible. WWII was an accelerator of technological innovation, and from 1937 to 1945 architects were frequently pressed to pursue the most modern solutions, which often meant the most cutting edge. Designed by New York-based WORKac, the exhibit is comprised of drawings, photographs, posters, books, publications, models, historical documents, and films that reveal how contemporary architecture left its mark on the landscapes of both the Axis and the Allied powers. Organized thematically, the exhibition focuses on wartime activity as well as architects and their projects in Canada, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, the Netherlands, Spain, the United States, and the USSR. Architecture in Uniform is part of a larger project at the CCA that examines the various roles of architecture from the Second World War to today called On the Natural History of Destruction.