Edgewood Avenue Grammar School – Inman Park, Atlanta (1892) – designed by G.L. Norrman
The background: The following remarks by G.L. Norrman were included in a biographical sketch titled “An Educated Architect”, published in the December 17, 1892 edition of The Atlanta Journal.
Norrman’s remarks:
“I prefer the classic for libraries, school houses, courthouses and all buildings of an educational character, as most proper. For depots and hotels any style will do, but I prefer the Romanesque for depots and the renaissance for hotels and homes as being more homelike and less business like in appearance. Churches I like Romanesque because the growth of the church and that style of architecture are so closely identified.
The so-called ‘colonial style’ of the old southern mansions is renaissance so far as the builders were able to carry that style in those olden days, and it has recently come again into popular favor because of the sentiment that clings about those honored halls.”
Samuel McGowan House – Abbeville, South Carolina (1889) – designed by G.L. Norrman
The background: On January 6, 1892, a large tornado obliterated the town of Fayetteville, Georgia, located 25 miles southwest of Atlanta, killing 3 people. While cleanup and rebuilding efforts were underway, G.L. Norrman offered his advice on how to build houses quickly and cheaply in the January 14, 1892 edition of The Atlanta Constitution, in an article titled “For Fayetteville”.
Norrman’s remarks:
“If the homeless people of Fayetteville can get lumber and brick in the manner suggested byThe Constitution, they can build houses very quickly and cheaply on the same plan employed to house the people of Chicago after the great fire. The houses so built are very light, but very strong. The plan was to make the frame entirely 2×8 joists and one inch plank. The 2×8 inch joists were put down on blocks in the same way that sills are laid. The floor joists were then put in two feet apart, with the ends resting against the side joists. Twenty-penny nails were driven through the side pieces from the outside into the ends of the floor joists. Two such nails were so driven in each.
This could be made stronger by nailing a 1×2 strip on the inside of the side pieces under the floor joists. Planks one inch thick and a foot wide were then set upright and nailed to the sides and ends. The cracks between the plank were covered with strips, and the joists rested on them above just as they they do ordinarily upon studding; and so the roof was supported. The inside of the plank was lined with canvas and covered with building paper, which made the house quite warm. A stack chimney was built in the center and was made to serve two or three rooms. The chimney dropped back about three feet above the fireplace, and on the shoulder so made a board was fastened, making a simple but convenient mantel-piece. The chimney so built contained about two thousand five hundred brick. The houses were easily kept warm and very comfortable with well-fitted doors and windows.
They are ready to be occupied and at any time afterwards may be plastered, for a very small cost by nailing one-inch strips diagonally on the walls over the building paper, and laths over these strips. Strips, laths and plaster take up about one and three-fourth inches and with the paper, canvas and plank already there, they make a wall about three inches, thick, giving a house closer and warmer than an ordinary plastered frame house. The diagonal strips give the structure remarkable strength. I built such a house on the mountain side at Tryon, S.C., and it was struck by a storm and carried away. The chimney was demolished, but the house rolled down the mountain side without breaking. Twelve years ago I built a number of such houses, with six rooms each, at Spartanburg, S.C., at an expense of $350 each, including material and labor. It is remarkable how cheap you can build a comfortable house.
If any of the Fayetteville people wish to try this plan I will be pleased to give them any necessary explanation. No drawings will be necessary.”
W.W. Duncan House – Spartanburg, South Carolina (1886) – designed by G.L. Norrman
The background: The April 13, 1890 edition of The Atlanta Constitution published this wide-ranging conversation with G.L. Norrman in the article “Eight Millions More”. The reporter had visited Norrman’s office to solicit his thoughts on construction prospects in Atlanta for the upcoming building season, but Norrman was more interested in discussing his ideas about architecture.
Norrman’s remarks:
“My advice is that people build simple houses, especially if they have not much to spend. The main object of a house is to make people comfortable, and to build simply for show is in bad taste. They put on all kinds of cheap ornaments that are vulgar even on expensive houses, and where they are trying to make a show with little money it is the shoddiest building they can get up. It is expensive and not ornamental.
A house should always be made as simple as possible; nothing should be put on that may be left off. It is strange that business men of good sense should use it so badly when they come to build, and instead of building for comfort should build entirely for show. They even put tops on school houses that make them look like summer hotels.”
Reporter: What is the prevailing style?
“The prevailing style is no style at all. But few houses here or elsewhere are built in good taste. Any style is good. There is no preference, so that the style is carried out. A building should also suggest in its architecture the purpose for which it is intended.
The Romanesque style was introduced into this country by Richardson, who has used it very effectively; but his imitators always make a failure of it because they are not as cultivated as he, and consequently do not know how to carry it out. I do not think it a good style for libraries and public buildings, because it is a style that was developed in the most barbarous age and has no suggestion of learning.
The colonial style has been introduced lately byMcKim, Mead & White, of New York, and it is very good as they designed it, but there are few who carry out the style well. At best it has a number of absurdities that are only interesting because of their association with the early history of this country.
The so-called colonial style is barbarism of the Italian renaissance interpreted bySir Christopher Wren. The best buildings on this continent are as a rule of that style. Mr. [E.C.] Gardner, of this city, who is a very cultured architect, is strong in colonial style.
Whatever suits the occasion is best no matter what style, whether gothic, Romanesque, Queen Anne or renaissance so it is harmoniously carried out.
Shingle as a rule is the best wall covering for frame houses, because the grain of the wood is perpendicular, whereas in weatherboarding it is not. But when shingles are put up as an ornament, it is in bad taste, for there is no particular beauty in the shingle.
There should always be eight inches of brick around flues where the brick touches woodwork. It takes more brick, but it is the only safe way to build a chimney, and I always put it in the specifications. Architects, as a rule, do not build chimneys large enough. Usually they only put four inches of brick between a flue and woodwork. That is not sufficient.
Galvanized iron does not harmonize with anything. It is a makeshift. It is used because stone is too costly.
If a child looks up and sees iron painted to imitate stone, his keen eyes detect the fraud; and when his father undertakes to teach him truthfulness, the child tells him he is another. Why, I have even known ministers to build such falsehoods in their churches.”
Reporter: Do you get any ideas from nature?
“Painting and sculpture are intended to suggest nature, but architecture is not. There is nothing in nature that you can pattern after. A great many writers on architecture know nothing about it. There is Ruskin who wrote so many books about architecture without understanding his subject. In his description of the church of San Marco, he said the undulatory appearance of the floor was the architect’s representation of the waves of the Adriatic. If he had understood construction he would have known that the church was built on piles and the floor settled.
The outlook for building is good this year, and I think there will be more of it done this year than last; certainly the houses will be of a better character.”
As the leading architect of Atlanta and the Southeastern United States in the late 19th century, G.L. Norrman was widely recognized in the region for his outstanding designs; yet he was also well-known for his outspoken and often unorthodox views — on architecture, art, culture, good taste, morals, and just about anything else.
With his acerbic wit and passionate opinions, Norrman was a favorite subject of the Atlanta newspapers, who frequently published letters from him and solicited his comments for their stories.
Besides Norrman’s work, his words are perhaps the best glimpse into the mind of a man who was as intriguing as he was enigmatic.
On the Need for Market Houses in Atlanta (1888)
The background: In August 1888, P.J. Moran, a member of the Atlanta city council, proposed an ordinance for the establishment of central market houses owned and operated by the city, based on the public market house in Charleston, South Carolina (picture above), which is still in operation.
G.L. Norrman was clearly in favor of the plan, and expressed his thoughts for the August 23, 1888 edition of The Atlanta Constitution, in an article entitled “The Market Houses”. In typical Atlanta fashion, the council deliberated the idea for years but took no serious action, and the plan eventually fizzled out.
Norrman’s remarks:
“I am very much interested in the market house project started by Councilman Moran. I have given the matter a good deal of study. My idea is that the markets should be erected between Peachtree and Broad Streets, in the rear of the National hotel. This space is not occupied at present and it probably could be purchased by the city at a cheap figure. But if it is not practicable to get this, let the city have one markethouse for south Atlanta and one for north Atlanta. Just where they should be located I cannot say, but they ought to be in convenient localities. Atlanta should lose no time in abolishing the many meat stores which are to be found in nearly every street. It is a wonder that they have not bred disease long ago. In these stores are all sorts of perishable articles which are permitted to decay. The city needs nothing so badly as it needs adequate market houses. I trust that the ordinance introduced by Mr. Moran will be carried into effect.”
The following article was originally published in the September 1892 edition ofThe Southern Architect, and was written by Edmund George Lind (1829-1909), professionally known as E.G. Lind, a British-born architect who spent most of his life and career in Baltimore, but practiced in Atlanta from 1883 to 1893.
Less an article than a few brief notes, here Lind offers guidance on selecting interior colors based on a room’s orientation to the sun.
Synthetic pigments developed in the 19th century brought a dizzying array of bright new colors into existence, and in the age when the rule-breaking artists of Impressionism shocked the public with the bold and vivacious tones of their paintings, color was the subject of both intense scientific scrutiny and countless mystical theories.
As de facto interior designers, architects had to possess a strong understanding of the relationship between light and color, and Lind took a special interest in color and its associations: in 1882 he presented his own mystical theory on “The Harmony Between Color and Music” to his colleagues in the American Institute of Architects.
Lind’s suggestions here are more or less conventional wisdom for choosing interior colors, and are perfectly applicable today. However, in a time when nearly all conventions are being actively dismantled and questioned, Lind’s insistence on adherence to a set of arbitrary rules feels amusingly antiquated. Rules, after all, are made to be broken.
“Coloring of Rooms”
“If the aspect of a room be north, northeast, northwest, or due east, the general tone of the coloring should be positively warm. Blues, greens, etc., all shaded colors which involve any predominant use of blues, must be avoided.
In such aspects the choice should tend towards reds and all their various combinations with yellow.
As the aspect approaches east and west, so colors should verge towards yellow, rather than red tints. In an eastern aspect, tints of light yellows, lemon colors, etc., are always effective and cheerful.
If the aspect is south or southwest or west, and opens to the sun, then we may venture on the use of cooler colors even on positive blue.
Where the light is strong, unobscured and plentiful the tone of coloring may be full.
Where the supply of light is small, the coloring should be light.
It should be borne in mind that full toned colors lessen the apparent size of a room, while light coloring enlarges it.”
Central Presbyterian Church – Atlanta (1884) – designed by E.G. Lind
The following text is the transcript of a presentation given at the 1893 convention of the American Institute of Architects by Edmund George Lind (1829-1909), professionally known as E.G. Lind, a British-born architect who spent most of his life and career in Baltimore but practiced in Atlanta from 1883 to 1893.
Lind had recently returned to Baltimore from Atlanta, and his architectural career was effectively finished. With more free time at his disposal, he had been recently pondering architectural acoustics, a subject that has confounded architects since at least the days of Vitruvius.
Architects of the 19th century commonly believed that interior spaces such as concert halls or church sanctuaries should be designed according to specific dimensions to produce the best sound acoustics.
Lind demonstrated the limitations of that theory by comparing the dimensions of auditoriums in 4 different buildings, including Baltimore’s Masonic Temple, which he designed. The building now operates as an event space.
While 3 of the auditoriums he referenced had dimensions based on the number 13, only one was considered an acoustic success. In a frank assessment of his work, Lind described the acoustic quality of his own Masonic temple design as “very defective”.
Lind proposed that the dimensions of auditoriums should be in multiples of the number 7, offering as proof the dimensions of Baltimore’s First Presbyterian Church — which he partly designed — and 2 unnamed churches of his design in Georgia: the first is Central Presbyterian Church (pictured above) in Atlanta, and the second was likely the Presbyterian church in what is now Atlanta’s West End (1888, demolished). Lind claimed their acoustics were a “perfect success”.
Within a few years of Lind’s presentation, Wallace Sabine‘s extensive study into the acoustic quality of buildings launched what became the field of architectural acoustics. Designers now know that the dimensions of a space have much less impact on acoustics than the strategic use of sound-absorbing building materials.
“A Few Words About Acoustics.”
By E.G. Lind, F.A.I.A., Baltimore.
‘For lack of more profitable employment I have been thinking. Usually I like to do that sort of thing in appreciative or sympathetic company, but, deprived of that luxury in Baltimore, I write to enlist the interests of my brethren of the Institute in the subject of my thoughts, “acoustics”.
I don’t know that it ever happened to any architect to deliberately plan a hall or concert room with a certainty of its being an acoustic success, but that buildings have been planned and are acoustically successes is very certain; whether by accident or design I know not, and that is what I want to find out. Can any rule be laid down whereby perfection in sound may be certainly acheived, and if so, what is that rule?
For some good reason, I presume, or other, various numbers have been recommended as multiples to be used in the dimensions of auditoriums. Numbers 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10 and 18 have all had their supporters, upon what particular grounds we are left in ignorance.
I will just notice two or three examples and leave the matter in the hands of the brethren, praying for further light.
The Boston Music Hall has always been considered a specimen of acoustic perfection. Its dimensions are a multiple of that usually considered unlucky number 13, in this case a particularly fortunate one.
The dimensions of the hall are:
13×10=130 feet long.
13x 6= 91 feet wide.
13x 5= 65 feet high.
It has galleries on the side and ends, which considerably reduce the floor space.
The hall of the Baltimore Masonic Temple, built by myself, was also a multiple of 13, its dimensions being:
13×8=104 feet long.
13×7= 91 feet wide.
13×3= 39 feet high.
This hall proved to be very defective, inasmuch as it possessed resonant qualities which destroyed its usefulness as a lecture room while it was enhanced as a concert hall.
There was a gallery at the end of this hall but no side galleries, as at Boston, which might have made all the difference.
The dimensions of old Steinway Hall, New York, were a little in excess of this multiple of 13, being:
A few years ago, for amusement and recreation, I undertook to investigate the properties of the number 7—a number of such frequent occurence in the Holy Scriptures that we may be naturally led to the conclusion that 7 is the symbol of perfection and completeness.
Convinced of its importance, I determined to use this multiple in arranging the auditorium of a Presbyterian church I was about building in Georgia, and made the dimensions thus:
7×10=70 feet long.
7x 9=63 feet wide.
7 x5=35 feet high.
It proved a perfect success, and it has the testimony of hundreds of divines that it is the best auditorium for acoustics they ever preached in.
Later on I had another church to build for another Presbyterian congregation in Georgia, but smaller in size. I adopted the same multiple, 7, for my auditorium, and with the same success.
In further support of the proposition that 7 is a multiple to be respected, I will mention that the auditorium of the First Presbyterian Church of Baltimore has always enjoyed a first-class reputation for its acoustic qualities, and it also is a multiple of 7, being:
7×10=70 feet long.
7x 9=63 feet wide.
7x 9=63 feet high.
So little in excess of the multiple as to be unappreciable.
It may be doubted whether a strict adherence to any particular multiple will insure success.
The acoustic qualities of a room may be influenced, in great measure, by the materials of which it is constructed, the arrangement of its various parts, the heating and ventilation — all have the part to play — but due attention being given to these and all other things being equal, I incline to the multiple 7 all the time until good reason is shown for adopting some other number.
There is no problem so difficult of solution as this one of acoustics, and yet with a little or more probably a good deal of thought and study we may be able to avoid some of the many pitfalls which await the unwary.
As the body cannot live without nourishment, so the mind needs food for thought. If a brother here has any to spare let him not withhold it.
I spent a day in New York back in January — it feels like a lifetime ago now.
I wasted an hour on John Street that morning trying to figure out how the hell to get a decent picture of Wilson Eyre‘s Dennison Building — that’s a problem I will return to another time.
Exasperated and edgy (I just had a large coffee from Donut Pub), I gave up and walked over to the corner of Dey and Church Streets, snapping this pic of Santiago Calatrava‘s World Trade Center Station.
There’s little architecture of merit in Atlanta: the city’s leaders have long despised passion and imagination, their minds too addled by the pursuit of power, suppression, and the illusion of status to spark creative inclination.
Instead, Atlanta consistently copies the architectural designs of better cities, usually a decade or more after the fact, inevitably making cheap, watered-down imitations drawn by second-rate firms.
Thus, it’s a genuine surprise when the city actually produces a building that warrants a second look, but here’s one: the new Center for Innovation & the Arts at Spelman College.
Spelman is a historically Black college for women, and the project was fittingly designed by Studio Gang of Chicago — founded by Jeanne Gang — with Goode Van Slyke Architecture — a Black-owned firm of Atlanta — as associate architect.
Like all feeble and flimsy constructs of man, architecture is gasping its last self-important breaths, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult for designers to disguise that their job is, at its essence, to make decorative boxes for people to cower and shit in.
Those who can pull off the ruse with ingenuity and style deserve recognition, however, and the designers of this project have done a fine job. Look beneath the building’s exoskeleton and you’ll find a fairly standard, 4-story, 84,000-square-foot box.
What gives the building panache are the metal sunshades and screens on its upper floors, which the Studio Gang site describes as “tuned to the angles of the sun”. OK, sure.
With two recessed porches on the north and south sides and an open space atop the southwest corner, the building gives the faint illusion that it’s floating in the sky. It’s particularly stunning at dusk when the falling light deepens the orange and brown palette.
Studio Gang has made more interesting and, well, innovative buildings elsewhere, but for Atlanta, this is about as wild and daring an architectural design as you’ll find.
