Sylvan Hill Residence

Critical Commentary by Maurizio Vitta

As published in l'Arca (Italy), June 1991 
This commentary was written before the project was built. 

In Western tradition the country home is based on close relationship between the dwelling place and nature, a relationship in which the former is immersed in the latter, finding its space in nature and, as much as possible, avoiding any breakup in the continuity of the environment. This regard for the integrity of the concept of nature, however, is limited by the psychological caesura, so to speak, that the history of the country house underlines in its rapport with natural surroundings: the taste for landscape gardening, for example, indicated a desire for a gradual transition towards the undifferentiated chaos of the land, even when one romantically endeavored to reproduce it; and architectural standards, too, however inclined to an open and expensive style, eventually opted for a clear division between artifact and spontaneity. The Twentieth century, as we know, has often tried to breach this wall, endeavoring to have natural surroundings encroach on the dwelling and vice-versa, in an attempt to achieve the fusion, however imperfect, of two counterpoised models of existence. But apart from the more or less episodic character of these attempts, the blending of dwelling and nature has remained a difficult task, owing to a historical legacy that would have then virtually antithetical terms. 

These introductory remarks are useful when considering the plan for a country house drawn up by Lester Korzilius, a new York architect extraordinarily responsive to the constructive aspects of architecture (see l’Arca no. 39 on his plan for the air terminal in East Hampton, Long Island, NY). Korzilius has very clear ideas in this regard, convinced as he is that architects should offer their clients a complete range of services and that "if they want to maintain their primary role in the construction process, they will have to take responsibility for it." 

Commissioned in 1989 to plan a "retirement home" for a "successful couple" from New York City, a home to be built in Connecticut and to be harmoniously blended into its natural surroundings, the architect contrived to reverse the rapport between dwelling place and nature by having the latter encroach on the former, circulating in it like the sea amidst the islands of an archipelago. This was achieved by concentrating the functions of the dwelling in three autonomous nuclei, around and below which the terrain and vegetation followed their natural course. The pavilion-like form of the three primary dwelling spaces (the kitchen-small dining room, the living room-study, and the bedroom area, laid out along a north-south axis affording both sunlight and a good view) is of course meant to suggest a sort of archetype of a shelter hidden in the midst of a primeval virgin landscape. Notwithstanding this, the overall effect does not aim at any improbable architectural mimesis but endeavors to underscore the ingenious solutions adopted in the artifact, which exactly counterbalances the natural surroundings. To realize this one need only consider the connective structure of the entire building, i.e. the roofing. Korzilius himself cites Timo and Tuomo Suomolainen’s Helsinki church as a distant precedent for the solution adopted, but this reference is, as one might suppose, or a purely morphological character. Actually, as it spreads like a wing over the garage, greenhouse and guest rooms, covering the alignment of the three pavilions, this roofing provides the architectonic element that gives not only unity but meaning to the whole structure: in fact, with its latticed structure alternating openings and closings, its continuous exchange with the natural surroundings, the roofing confirms the whole and, at the same time, attenuates the discontinuity of the dwelling units by restoring to them the compactness of domestic space. In this way the long portico, which contains the owner's appreciable art collection, presents itself as an inner corridor and surrounding element for the whole construction, planimetrically underscoring its curvilinear conformation and its adherence to the lay of the land. 

How will this building figure in the quiet Connecticut landscape? It was Korzilius’ intention to create a series of places-spaces which should guarantee an easy transition from public to private areas after the explicitly mentioned precedent set by Louis Kahn’s Unitarian Church in Rochester, New York. The public space par excellence remains that of the nearby town and the highway, from which one drives into a partially public area that rises some 800 meters to the country house and stops in a small "controlled transition" square (with the garage and rear entrance). In the interior, the semi-private space of the portico gives one an "uplifting" feeling and this passage ends in the private area of the three primary nuclei, which are designed to confer on the whole interior the privacy of an existence whose inside-outside dimension with respect tot the surrounding greenery is interfaced by the house itself. 

The idea behind the plan is, as one can see, rather intriguing and quite attractive. But this kind of construction, more than others, calls for what may be termed "existential verification" - that is, the carrying on of those everyday activities which make a physical space a place to live in: a supreme test for architectonic theories. And an architect like Korzilius who is so perceptive of the need to see construction as an overall process, must surely have put this question to himself, although he knows all too well that sooner or later it will slip out of control. For the destiny of this or any other work is eventually to go its own way in a history all of its own. 

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   



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