In my last post I wrote about a photograph of a wall that no longer exists at Taliesin. I wrote that the photo as taken in 1930 and I’d explain it in my next post. That photograph showed the wall in the Loggia fireplace. The photograph above is by the same photographer and shows the other side of that wall. What you’re seeing is Taliesin’s Loggia. Here’s how I (or Taliesin Preservation) got the photos and how I know they were taken in 1930.
In the winter of 1997-98 (3 years into my employment, then working seasonally at Taliesin Preservation), I had a part-time job in the preservation office working with photographs related specifically to Wright’s home (later his Taliesin estate, which includes the Hillside stucture, Romeo & Juliet windmill, Midway Barn, his sister’s home, Tan-y-deri, along with its landscape). Photographs are among the things used to help understand the history of the Taliesin estate and do restoration/preservation. The work was needed that winter because an Architectural Historian from Taliesin Preservation had apparently left his office in a bit of a mess.
Allocated money put me in the office at 20 hours/week through the winter to bring some order to the photocopies he’d left behind. As a result, I saw some amazing images for the first time.
13 of them had been brought to our attention by Wright scholar, Kathryn Smith. She’d come across them while doing work in Chicago, photocopied them, and sent them to us, as part of what was described to me once as “preservation by distribution”. She’d sent the images maybe in the early 1990s. All of the relevant information was included with the photocopies: collection ID-number, the photographer (Raymond Trowbridge), and from where they came (the Chicago Historical Society, now the Chicago History Museum).
Their details made them look like they’d been taken 1925-32: early Taliesin III, before the Wrights founded the Taliesin Fellowship (in 1932). The photographs showed that Trowbridge knew what he was doing: the images have wonderful composition and light balance, and show the texture of Taliesin’s stucco walls, its wooden banding, and its flagstone.
In my work, I arranged these into the binders of photocopies we’d started to assemble. Then the winter ended, and I went back to my work giving tours.
Almost a decade passed. I started working in historic research (along with tours), got a raise and made plans to travel before I found ways to spend it all. This took me on my first of several trips to Wright’s archives, which at that time were located in an archives building at Taliesin West, his winter home in Arizona. The archives included over 22,000 drawings, over 40,000 photographs, correspondence related to his life and his work (letters to and from family, friends, clients, and others), and many other things I’m sure I never saw. While there, I went to the archives every workday. Monday to Friday, I showed up at 8:15 a.m., took an hour for lunch, and stayed until they ended their work every night (usually a little after 6 p.m.). And, bonus, I often got to do this in winter.
Here’s a note for you: The second time I went to the archives, I thought I would save money by going in the summer. I don’t know how hot all of Arizona gets that time of year, but going voluntarily to Scottsdale in July is not worth any money that you save. That caution on Arizona’s hot temperatures might also apply in May and definitely June, August and early September.
On one of my trips, I hit my research goals early in the afternoon on Friday. I remembered the name Raymond Trowbridge and went looking for correspondence with him.
The archives has nine letters between Wright and Trowbridge from 1930 to 1933. In the first letter, ID #T001E02 (written September 20, 1930), Trowbridge answered a question that Wright had written to him (that letter’s not extant). Wright had apparently asked what type of photography equipment Trowbridge had “with me at Taliesin.”
Looking at Trowbridge’s photos, I came to the conclusion that he was probably talking about the photographic session he’d just had, which had resulted in the 13 images, because they were definitely taken in the summer (like the one below). So that made these photos from maybe August or early September of 1930. Cool.
I tucked that info away in my brain, got back to Wisconsin, looked at the Trowbridge photographs, and changed their dates to 1930-33.
A few years later, when I had some time in the middle of the week, I sent a comment via email “To Whom It May Concern” at the Chicago History Museum. I explained who I was and that they needed to change Trowbridge’s dates on his photos at Taliesin, because they’d written that his photos were 1923-35. I said the dates for the ones at Taliesin should be 1930-33.
Their dates (1923-35) were because Trowbridge became a photographer in 1923 and died in 1935.
The next Monday, I got an email from someone in the Rights and Reproductions Department telling me that Trowbridge didn’t take photos of Taliesin.
I replied that, well actually he did. Then I explained Kathryn Smith, the collection she’d sent, and I emailed a scan of one with its ID number (this scan, seen in my blog post, “Taliesin as a Structural Experiment”, was published in the booklet “Two Lectures on Architecture” in 1931).
I heard back from this person several hours later. She wrote that, oh my god, yeah! They did have these images—as glass negatives—but they had been misfiled and my email helped them locate them properly. And she told me they’d get high resolution scans & contact me after they put them onto an online photo sharing and storage service. A day or two later I accessed and downloaded these beautiful scans.
Then in 2018, while putting together a presentation for the annual Frank Lloyd Building Conservancy conference, I wrote again to the Rights and Reproductions Department at the Chicago History Museum. I asked how I could get permission to use one of the images, and how much Taliesin Preservation had to pay.
Even though I wasn’t paid to speak at the conference, I’d have to work out image permissions; I hoped I didn’t have to pay, but you never know.
I found out then that I didn’t have to pay for or sign anything. The photographer had died 83 years before, making all of his images in the public domain. All that was required is what’s on the images you see here: who owns the image, its archival number, the name of the photographer, in the manner that they asked for (which is why the photographs state that Raymond C. Trowbridge was the photographer).
All of these things:
remain some of my best career-related serendipitous experiences as an adult.
First published, 1/28/2021.
Never in my life have I been given a more sensitive and comprehending tour of anything, anywhere. Listening to her talk about Wright and looking at everything she pointed out, I felt as if my eyes had opened to twice their normal size."
Whenever I have a question regarding anything Taliesin-related Keiran Murphy is the first person I turn to."
… her knowledge of Frank Lloyd Wright is close to astonishing. Over many years she has simply absorbed him—and his beloved Taliesin—into her bones.” “I am in awe at her willingness—her delight—in sharing what she knows with others."