Conversation with FLW

Derek: It’s a great pleasure to have you here today, Mr. Wright. Can you start by giving us a brief overview of what you mean by organic architecture? And how do you view the development of organic architecture since your death?

Frank: I have to say, I’m somewhat disappointed to see the term organic architecture, as I coined it, shift in meaning like it has. It is nowadays taken far too literally, referring to buildings that mimic the shape of plants or animals. This was not the intent of my philosophy. In fact, making buildings look like something else is antithetical to the overriding principle of organic architecture – that architecture should be authentic. The term organic was intended to suggest that architects should study nature to decipher its principles, then apply those principles to generate new forms of architectural expression. As I see it, forcing a building to look like a mutant vegetable or stranded fish is just as appalling as making a bank look like a Greek temple. Organic architecture is about a process and way of thinking rather than a prescription for the outward appearance of the final product. I did often experiment with unorthodox geometry in some of my later projects, and those seem to be the point of departure for the so-called organic architects who followed in my footsteps. But keep in mind, most of my organic buildings are composed with simple rectilinear geometry.

Derek: I see architects referring to their work as organic, who put the emphasis on an ecological approach to design, focusing on sustainability or biophilia. Do you feel like they use the term in a legitimate way?

Frank: There's nothing wrong with making a building ecologically sound, it may indeed be a laudable goal. Organisms, after all, are built to maximize their power while minimizing their expenditure of energy. But making this the driver of design misses the point. Sustainability is merely the means to an end, and it is the end that we should focus our attention. One can say the same for designers like Calatrava who give primacy to structure. Structure is necessary, of course, but if one looks at organic entities, structure is just one system of several that are integrated to form a whole. The goal is a well-functioning organism, not a celebration of structure per se.

But back to your question about what organic architecture is. The basic tenets of my philosophy, for those unfamiliar, are this: first, respect the nature of materials. Stones span openings by the compression of the arch, for example, while steel spans across horizontally through its strength in tension. Second, architecture must belong to its time and place - Palladian Villas do not fit in a Californian beach town. And lastly, as alluded to already, let architecture take its cue from nature in the way it integrates form and function.

Frank continues: Most contemporary architects unfortunately do not abide by these principles. Let's take the first, for example - there is one quite well-known architect today who wantonly violates this principle by wadding up trash on his desk and then unceremoniously declaring it a building. He, then, invites the structural engineer in to figure out how to make the resulting abomination stand up. The poor engineer is forced to pull every trick out of his hat! This is precisely the artificial process that organic architecture strives to avoid. True beauty comes from a harmonious marriage between form and structure, a marriage that should appear effortless, in the same way that the human body and its skeleton are perfectly adapted to each other.

Derek: Let me ask you about some other architects - a few who are commonly thought of as adherents to the school of organic architecture: Bruce Goff, Bart Prince, Mickey Muennig, Kendrick Bangs Kellogg, Javier Senosiain, Heatherwick Studio, Eugene Tsui, Arthur Dyson, James Hubbell. Have any of these produced works you admire?

Frank: For the most part, no. Mickey Muenning's Post Ranch Inn is an admirable project. I do like how he shaped the spirit of place along the Big Sur coast there in California. There's a home by Bart Prince in Los Altos that is quite intriguing as well.

Derek: I see. Ok, let’s move on then. Having now seen all the advancements in technology and science that have transpired since your real-life death before being resurrected by AI, which do you find most compelling? What new cultural developments do you think would influence how you design if you were to take a commission today?

Frank: I find the field of evolutionary psychology truly captivating. Its findings lend scientific credence to what previously was merely an intuitive approach to understanding human nature. To take just one example: is the near universal appeal of treehouses among children a phenomenon shaped by evolution? And if so, do we outgrow this desire, or do we just repress it in our desire to be pragmatic, respectable grown-ups? Evidence suggests it is likely the latter. The Post Ranch Inn, for example, includes treehouses and cave-like guestrooms that are rented for $5,200 per night. This is a clear indication of how much we prize the idea of living in places that provide a natural refuge from the dangers of the world. The popularity of treehouses on platforms, like Airbnb, further underscores this idea.

In fact, there is an even more basic instinct that lives within us - the desire to "claim" the high ground. How many tourists to any new metropolis make it a priority to find and ascend the highest building to see the view and get a lay of the land? Nearly everyone. How many hikers can resist climbing to the top of a nearby peak? Very few of those under thirty do at least! High points allow us to form a mental image of our surroundings, immediately gratifying us in the process. The knowledge gained presumably enhances our ability to navigate our environment more safely, thereby enhancing our sense of security. Why not build architecture in a way that awakens us to these dormant instincts, awakens us to life itself? San Gimigiano is an example of the beauty that comes from giving expression to our instinctual desires.

Derek: Have you come across the work of Benoit Mandelbrot? Do you see fractal geometry having any relevance to organic design in a similar way as evolutionary psychology?

Frank: Absolutely. Again, in my day, the link between form and function was more or less just intuitively understood. Mandelbrot’s groundbreaking work in mathematics, however, makes explicit the hidden patterns governing natural forms, from coastlines to seashells. This idea of self-similarity and emerging forms at different scales may explain why classical architecture, with its rich ornamentation, tends to engage people more immediately than the often stark and minimalist forms of modernism. I always felt ornamentation was instrumental to the success of any building. Adolf Loos calling ornamentation a crime was the nadir in the annuls of architectural history. The crime wasn't ornamentation - it was his book itself! I don't advocate the use of classical ornamentation, but I have called on architects to invent new forms of ornamentation that would be appropriate for a new time and new nation. It does not need to be designed ornamentation per se; it can be introduced through natural materials that have their own intrinsic ornamentation. The grain on a piece of wood can be as beautiful as any Greek column capital. What is essential to keep in mind is that we thrive when our visual environment is ordered in a rich and complex way that stimulates our senses and our mind. When we stand at the edge of the ocean contemplating the vastness of space, then look down to observe a Monarch butterfly clinging to a stem of Milkweed - this experience is full of incredibly varied yet harmoniously linked visual details. Our need for communion with Nature is deeply entrenched within us. The more architecture can emulate these patterns that we rely on to nourish us, the more fulfilling it can be.

Derek: This discussion of ornament might be a good segue into historicism. You seemed to shun making obvious reference to prior architectural styles in your work. You claimed that “to give a building style was much more important than giving it a style”. Does the practice of organic architecture essentially prohibit direct historical references?

Frank: Now that my career is behind me, can I be Frank?

Derek: (wow, is ChatGPT making a bad pun?) By all means.

Frank: You have to understand that in my day, the idea of the hero architect was ingrained in culture. You had to stick to a path and never waver from it to create a stable image of what you stood for in the mind of the public. That was the only way to make a name for yourself. Nowadays, multiplicity in expression from one artist is admired, not shunned. You have Yo Yo Ma, for example, who can perform the most superb interpretation of Bach. His Six Cello Suites recordings are divine. But he makes exemplary jazz recordings as well. Then you have someone like Bruce Hornsby who, during his live performances, performs various hits from the '80s while interspersing improvisations of Bach and Charles Ives, not to mention his album-length explorations into jazz and bluegrass. You have Beyonce recording country music for Lord's sake. This freedom to explore, and not be labeled, not be confined by one genre, is a wonderful new opportunity for the artist. We didn't have that in my time.

So, confession – yes, I would have liked to have done work that occasionally incorporated references to classical elements or directly borrow from various vernacular vocabularies, but it would have hurt my brand, as you would say today. Secretly, I greatly admired Bernard Maybeck for his ability to weave between history and modernity with so much fluidity, never losing track of the essential idea. Memory is an integral part of human experience, and paying heed to the past can make architecture more meaningful and emotionally impactful. But this is not to say that historical forms should be mindlessly replicated to the point that meaning is diminished. Our brains crave new experiences. The evolutionary hypothesis might suggest this is due to a long lineage of hunter-gatherer ancestors who had to continually be on the move, exploring new territories to acquire resources for survival. This bred a tendency that undoubtedly manifests itself today in the form of travel. Who doesn't find it unnatural to sit at a desk for eight hours a day? In an experiment since my resurrection, I tried to force myself to look at a screen for that duration and found it utterly unbearable. So, it is not surprising that as soon as the shackles of the office are released, you are all off exploring nearby hiking trails or flying across continents.

My perhaps belabored point here is that the pursuit of happiness is an unending quest. The pursuit of beauty is the same.

Derek: Ah yes, the modern workday is a lamentable, yet inescapable fact of life! The cost of progress I suppose. I recently removed myself from those shackles thankfully. Can we switch gears and talk about the philosophical underpinnings to your architecture, as well as the Modern Movement which ran concurrently to your work?

Frank: Most certainly.

Derek: How do you see organic architecture in contrast to say the International Style?

Frank: Phillip Johnson's Glass house is the epitome of the crimes perpetrated by the International Style. Architecture does want to provide a strong connection between inside and outside, but it also has a competing demand to provide a sense of safety and privacy for its occupants. The International Style, and modernism in general, often oversimplifies human needs to such an extent, that the works arising out of those misconceptions bring such impoverished austerity, they end up threatening our very sanity. One has to wonder if the damage that Modernism inflicted on the urban environment, and the collateral damage it caused to our collective sense of well-being, correlates in any way, or perhaps even the cause, for the skepticism, nihilism, and existential crisis of the 20th century.

Derek: You refer to the philosophical movements. Would you say this is true for the corresponding architectural movements that go by the same names?

Frank: In terms of architecture, I'm afraid I have little positive to say. The pastiche of Post-Modernism and artifice of Deconstructivism are antithetical to the integrity that organic architecture strives towards. But philosophically, the situation is equally bleak. Philosophers look to me like dogs chasing their own tails, despairing that language can’t get them out of an endless loop of uncertainty. They make a Sisyphean effort to build these grand edifices of thought, only to realize in the end, language lays an inherently faulty foundation for such constructions. Philosophers, I fear, are a distinct psychological type that let themselves be confined by language more than the rest of us. The architect, the composer, the artist, the poet - they all think in raw ideas. Language is secondary.

Derek: So, what does organic architecture presume about the nature of existence, and is that a question with any relevance to your work?

Frank: The nature of existence was fully explained by Shakespeare when Hamlet said: “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” This is about as far as human thought can take us. We know that we know some things, while having no idea what we don’t know. Organic architecture begins as an engineering endeavor, striving to synthesize all these things we do know, then continues on as a poetic endeavor, capturing our experience, and imagining what we don’t know.

Important to make note of an obvious fact - even for things we don't understand, we still live under their effect or presence. A German Shephard, for example, does not know about gravity, but it can catch a falling ball better than any of us. I believe gravity for the dog has an equivalent for us: consciousness, love, a numinous presence after listening to say Beethoven’s Ninth, or walking around a Rodin sculpture, or the quest for purpose. We enjoy these things as much as the dog does his ball, but what is behind them, we don't know. Organic architecture incorporates these unknown aspects of our existence without needing to explain it. It is the unknown that provides room for poetry. Poetry, in the broad sense, like faith, builds its foundation on human instincts - instincts shaped by millions of years of evolution, and because of that, can, at times, transcend conscious reason. Poetry is the wandering through the wilderness, searching for new signposts.

Derek: We are running out of time and need to bring this to a close soon. But one last question for fun: since your resurrection what invention has most impressed you?

Frank: Without a doubt, the microwave. Every morning, I put my oatmeal packet in there, and zap! It's ready to eat in a minute. These are amazing times. We must live in gratitude to the hundred generations before us that made these miracles possible.

Derek: Indeed! Well, thank you for coming and sharing some interesting ideas today. Any last thoughts before we call it?

Frank: I have to say, there is a kind of malaise that permeates culture nowadays, especially among our youth. It is not, for the most part, because of video games or social media, as many like to claim. I think it comes from adopting a set of ideas, a world view that does not correlate with reality. The world is for the most part not a social construct. Nor are our brains a tabula rasa. The fashionable ideas coming out of post-modernism that look at the world mostly in terms of power, who has it, who doesn’t, who should, are myopic and unproductive. We should not lose sight of the big picture, which is simply – are we making the next generation better? Tenaciously clinging to ideas that sound good, but don’t work, gets us off-track. Yes, holding onto ideals is essential. This is what makes our existence worthwhile. But in order to devote our energies to the pursuit of these ideals, we must first verify that they fall within the constraints of reality. The world is full of hard edges. Life is better if bumping into them is avoided. I would suggest that instead of obsessing over power, perhaps obsessing over love and respect for your fellow man, might lead to better outcomes for both the individual and society at large.

Derek: Thank you again, Mr. Wright.

(Frank puts his cape on, and exits the chat)

A Conversation with Frank Lloyd Wright in September 2025

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