Deconstructing the Lego House

I am a sucker for architectural follies. Here is a very unusual teardown story: A man builds a two-story house out of millions of Legos, the novelty soon wears off, it's difficult and expensive to move, and nobody wants it, so it's gotta come down. It's a cute house, despite its clear impracticality (and very hard bed). It kind of makes me think of Rietveld's Schroder House crossed with Piet Mondrian. One would think Lego (the company) would want to keep and display the house just to illustrate the extreme possibilities of this medium.

Can't they just pull it apart in chunks or sections and store them somewhere? I used to cheat when I dismantled a Lego house - I'd keep wall sections mostly attached so I could save a few steps next time I decided to build something. These guys are just blasting right through the Lego walls and shattering the plastic bricks. Supposedly the salvaged Legos will be given to people who need Legos, but before that happens, I'm just picturing some poor person who has to sit there prying millions of Legos apart, piece by piece.

Setting sail

A little local story that seems like it may have a happy ending: Robert Venturi's Lieb House is being relocated from Long Beach Island, NJ to Long Island, NY. Inga Saffron of the Philadelphia Inquirer also has her own blog talking about this, with some interesting comments. More discussion here.

Venturi (and modernism in general) isn't for everyone, and this venture is drawing its share of jeers. There are clearly people who think it's an ugly piece of crap, think the effort is ridiculous, and won't miss it in the least if it disappears. The Atlantic City newspaper article's comment section had someone calling the house "a cereal box with windows."

But this whole situation is encouragement for the rest of us.

I don't think relocating buildings out of context is the ideal way to deal with redevelopment pressure, and I realize most people don't have the celebrity status, funds or matchmaking luck to pull this off, but this preservation story impressed me on so many levels. Here's an example of people using their creative thought to come up with a solution that works for everybody:

• The Lieb House is saved, takes a trip up the coast, and gets a swanky new waterfront home next to another Venturi house.
• The new owners get a way-cool guest cottage.
• The developer gets to build his beach palace on the vacated lot.
• The architect gets to see his work saved and appreciated.
• The entire thing is a great subject for media coverage of all kinds, and demonstrates to the world that there are buildings that people care about enough to jack up and move, rather than knock them down.

The only potential losers here are the neighbors of the former house site, who are soon going to have a lot less view to enjoy. And the trip will have its hazards. And there's the potential for permits being denied on the New York end. And the house may not be as visible to the public in its new location. But still, it's much better than a one-way trip to the landfill.

Now, let's just hope the house gets permission to make its voyage. As of now, it's waiting at the marina for the light to turn green.

Big props to the Venturis, the Sarnoffs, and all the people making this happen.

Odds and ends

Little did I ever imagine when I worked as an office temp years ago in some of these vast corporate parks near my hometown that their architecture would someday be appreciated as "midcentury modern." I just remember being in this dungeonlike archive at IBM making copies and thinking there was no way on God's green earth I was cut out for big-corporation life.

Some interesting vernacular tidbits have come my way of late. I always enjoy hearing about quirky homemade or folk architecture and landscape elements. For instance, the Beer Can House. And a group in Baltimore has gotten a grant to write up promotional materials for East Baltimore row house arts, like Formstone, wood-graining, painted screens and "tire and appliance gardens."

I still have not made it to the Holy Grail of southeastern Pennsylvania idiosyncratic built environments. I'll have to plan a lengthy stop in Doylestown next time I'm heading to upstate New York.