Highrise of Homes: A Misreading by AA School

Highrise of Homes: A Misreading Seonwoo Kim (Diploma 14, Y4)

Highrise of Homes (1981) is a series of drawings by James Wines, depicting a paraphernalia of detached houses sitting on a steel frame tower. It was a direct parody of the famous Life Magazine cartoon, Real Estate Number (1909), which advertised a fictional plot for a cottage in the sky. Three years prior to Wines’ reinterpretation, Rem Koolhaas embedded the 1909 cartoon in his seminal book Delirious New York (1978), exalting it as a “theorem” that sets precedent to the Manhattan Skyscraper. To Koolhaas, the 1909 proto-Skyscraper predicted the divorce of the exterior and the interior and the infinite fracturing of the floating plots. With the birth of the Skyscraper, the architect could no longer script buildings with a pre-determined program. Instead, he would design the mere skeleton of the building, within which the microcosm of the city would grow. Whereas the 1909 cartoon provided a metaphor for Koolhaas, for Wines, it provided a literal solution. Wines genuinely believed in the artistic possibilities of the shared frame and the individualised infill. He intended the Highrise of Homes as an archetype for mass-housing, which would be determined by “choice, chance and change” as opposed to “the homogenizing vision of a single architect.” What was important to Wines, was not the neutrality of the shared frame, but the idiosyncratic expressions of the homes, as signifiers of familiarity and belonging. Suspended in air, the detached home is, at once, a beacon of individuality as well as a reference of the collective memory; it is a communicative device. Both Koolhaas and Wines reappropriated the original 1909 cartoon to expand their theories on urbanism, density, and the role of the architect. Therefore, it would only seem fitting that we, as the new generation of architects, attempt at our own misreading. The mission is not to uncover the truth, but to find what is relevant to us in the gaps and niches of the existing narrative. By retracing the lineage of the Highrise of Homes chronologically, starting from the 1909 cartoon to the divergence between Rem Koolhaas and James Wines’ respective interpretations, the essay will endeavour to break a linear reading of the Highrise Homes and make room for its new misreading.

Origin: 1909

“Buy a cozy cottage in our steel constructed choice lots, less than a mile above Broadway. Only ten minutes by elevator. All the comforts of the country with none of its disadvantages.” – Celestial Real Estate Company1

In March 1909, a full-page cartoon made its appearance on Life magazine under the title of Real Estate Number. (See Figure 1) The cartoon depicted an 84-storey steel frame structure, within which an assemblage of American homes unfolded with its own porches, gardens, gazebos, and stables. The floors were connected by a single elevator shaft crowned with a hexagonal roof and a flag, giving it a distinct look of a medieval watchtower. To emphasise the impossible height of the structure, a flock of clouds surround and obscure the illustration. Each floor is given a landing platform, from which aeroplanes as a new public transport can whisk away the celestial inhabitants – see the modern couple hailing for the air-cab on 81st floor. At the bottom of the illustration, one may glimpse the existing skyline of the city, dwarfed in the presence of the new Babylon. Despite its monumentality within the cityscape, the tower is engraved with a backwardness of the countryside. The country villas are distinct to one another in style, from ranch to colonial revival, yet, as a collective, they bring the American Frontier back into the metropolis. On the top floor, two men are caught in a jagged movement – are they waving at the airplanes flying towards them or are they farming? Only a floor above the modern couple hailing the air cab, is a lone donkey, lost in the new abyss surrounding the soaring tower.2 At first, it is unclear to the contemporary reader whether the original cartoon is intended as a satire or as a utopian vision for the growing metropolis. The caption that accompanies the cartoon is certainly in a tone of ridicule – on one hand, emphasising the impossibility of such a construction by deliberately using a fanciful name, “Celestial Real Estate Company,” and on the other, using opposing images to form a logical paradox; how can “less than a mile above Broadway” coexist with “all the comforts of the country”?3 The choice of the drawing style is also distinct. Those who propose visions for the future often saturate the canvas with details to provide reality in the absence of its realisation (See Figure 2). However, the 1909 cartoon is

The original caption of Real Estate Number (1909) in Life Magazine. The name “Celestial Real Estate Company” is a tongue-in-cheek name for

a fictional real estate development company in charge of selling the floating plots. 2

Rem Koolhaas zooms in on the same miscellaneous scene in Delirious New York (New York: The Monacelli Press, 1994), 85. “The “life” inside

the building correspondingly fractured: on level 82 a donkey shrinks back from the void, on 81 a cosmopolitan couple hails an airplane. Incidents on the floor are so brutally disjointed that they cannot conceivably be part of a single scenario.” 3

From the original caption of the 1909 cartoon.

drawn in simple monochrome lines with calculated proportions to achieve a naïve look. Alanson Burton Walker, the author of the 1909 cartoon, was, in fact, a successful cartoonist who featured regularly in several magazines, such as Life, Harper’s, Atlantic Monthly, Saturday Evening Post, and Judge and Collier’s. He was known for his “fluid lines” and “gentle humour” in depicting preoccupations of early 20th century life, with a special attention to technology.4 That A. B. Walker was known as a comic should not discredit the visionary aspects of the 1909 cartoon. However, Rem Koolhaas and James Wines have since reproduced the 1909 cartoon in their texts and drawings to normalise their theories and thus, a certain vigilance is necessary to look at the 1909 cartoon with a fresh eye. Like other journalistic cartoons, Walker’s works were, at its heart, a satire, and at best, ambivalent. When he depicted cutting-edge technologies available at the time, it was stretched to the point of absurdity, not only to glimpse at the future, but more importantly to expose the follies of those who capitalise on it – whether the attack be on the bourgeoisie or the feminists.5 Following this formula, the 1909 cartoon reads better as a critique on the outrageous nature of the real estate market, rather than as a precursor of the Manhattan Skyscraper and its new urbanism. The juxtaposition between the steel structure and the cottages does not immediately encode a separation between the exterior envelope and the interior programs as Koolhaas suggests, nor does it offer a practical solution to mass-housing as in Wines’ interpretation. Instead, what is portrayed in Walker’s 1909 cartoon is an alignment of desires. The homeowner wants all the comforts of both the country and the city with none of their disadvantages. As paradoxical as it is, this desire lies at the heart of every urban dwelling since the city made its exodus from the countryside. If the illustration was to be replaced by a 21st rendering of luxury housing, the caption would hardly need any alteration. Yet, by depicting the desire for “comforts of the country”6 in the most literal manifestation, Walker achieves what is called the “alienation effect”7, from which the readers may acquire enough critical distance. Through the 1909 cartoon, the reader becomes aware of the false promises of the housing market and of the inconsistencies within his own demands. Thus, what was important for the original 1909 cartoon was not the neutrality of the steel frame, nor the expressiveness of the cottages, but their contrast. The pastiche of the steel frame and the

Mcgurk, Caitlin. ‘New Exhibit: A. B. Walker’s World’. Billy Ireland Cartoon Library & Museum (blog), 29 January 2013.

https://library.osu.edu/site/cartoons/tag/alanson-burton-walker/. 5

In a notable illustration titled In 1950, Walker juxtaposes absurd technologies of the future with a world dominated by feminists.

See A. B. Walker. In 1950 (New York: LIFE Magazine, 1914), retrieved Anne Lewis’ Women’s Suffrage Collection, https://lewissuffragecollection.omeka.net/items/show/1278. 6

From the original caption of the 1909 cartoon.

Alienation effect is a literary technique designed to distance the audience from emotional involvement through jolting reminders of the

artificiality of the theatrical performance. Definition from Britannica, s.v. “Alienation Effect”

country homes may or may not have foreshadowed future realities, but certainly revealed the construction of contemporary desires.

Misreading 1: 1978

“The COSMOPOLIS OF THE FUTURE. A weird thought of the frenzied heart of the world in later times, incessantly crowding the possibilities of aerial and inter-terrestrial construction, when the wonders of 1908…will be far out-done, and the 1,000 foot structure realized; now nearly a million people do business here each day; by 1930 it is estimated the number will be doubled, necessitating tiers of side-walks, with elevated lines and new creations to supplement subway and surface cars, with bridges between the structural heights. Airships, too, many connect us with the world. What will posterity develop?”8

In Delirious New York, Rem Koolhaas writes that the Manhattan Skyscraper9 was born “in installments between 1900 and 1910.”10 Referring to the 1909 Life Magazine Cartoon by A. B. Walker, he reveres it as a “theorem” that prescribes “the ideal performance of the Skyscraper.”11 Right after Walker’s cartoon, Koolhaas presents Harry Petit’s extravagant illustration for King’s Dream of New York.12 (See Figure 2) By aligning the two drawings together, Koolhaas charges Walker’s humorous cartoon with the same prophetic energy of Petit’s realistic rendering. As discussed in the previous chapter, the 1909 cartoon was not inherently consumed with an ideal vision for the future. Rather, it was a wry commentary on the absurdity of such futuristic projections. Yet through Koolhaas’ artful intervention, the 1909 cartoon belatedly enters the hall of fame, wherein other illustrations of the Manhattan Skyscraper reside as heralds of metropolitan progress. Why did Koolhaas prioritise Walker’s drawing before Petit’s? Why did the 1909 cartoon become a “theorem” over other visions of the future? While Petit vividly captured the outward magnificence of skyward construction,

Accompanying text to Harry M. Petit’s illustration for King's Views of New York (New York: Moses King, 1908) from Koolhaas, Rem. Delirious

New York. (New York: The Monacelli Press, 1994), 84. 9

The essay has followed Rem Koolhaas’ use of capital letters in Delirious New York whenever referring to the typology of skyscrapers.

Koolhaas, Delirious New York, 82.

Ibid.,

Koolhaas, Delirious New York, 84. Harry M. Petit’s illustration in Delirious New York depicts the same scene from Figure 2, with slight

differences in detail, most markedly in the design of the aircrafts hovering over the skyscrapers.

his drawing failed to visualise the real urban breakthrough. In Petit’s New York, the infinite repetition of the floors does not interrupt the totality of the Skyscraper; its façade remains unperturbed and unimpressed by the myriads of the metropolitan life that is reaching its climax within its envelope. In contrast, the 1909 theorem makes it transparent what is truly at stake when life continues upwards: a complete fracturing of life between the floors. Koolhaas observes that in the 1909 cartoon, each of the 84 planes is “treated as a virgin site, as if the others did not exist, to establish a strictly private realm around a single country house and its attendant facilities, stable, servants’ cottages, etc.”13 In Delirious New York, the original caption from the fictional Celestial Real Estate Company is cropped out from the 1909 cartoon. Instead, Koolhaas writes a new caption for his beloved, “1909 theorem: the Skyscraper as utopian device for the production of unlimited numbers of virgin sites on a single metropolitan location.”14 Here, the Skyscraper is conceived strictly as an urban typology. However, if the 1909 is an allegory of the Skyscraper, could we not begin to read the Skyscraper as a site of conflict or a chimeric artefact between the country and the city? Yet, we find in Koolhaas’ interpretation of the 1909 cartoon a complete absence of the countryside, as if it had been removed through a careful lobotomy. Instead, Koolhaas chooses to discuss the cottages as a metaphor for urban programs, plots, or privacies. For Koolhaas, the stylistic variation of the villas represents the “indeterminacy”15 of the internal programs of the Skyscraper. If the overtly domestic expression of the cottages is recognised at all, it is seen only as a negation of its opposite typology – the office: “But as a spectral alternative, the diversity of the 84 platforms of the 1909 Skyscraper holds out the promise that all this business is only a phase, a provisional occupation that anticipates the Skyscraper’s conquest by other forms of culture, floor by floor if necessary. Then the man-made territories of the frontier in the sky could be the Irresistible Synthetic to establish alternative realities on any level.”16 In the early days of the Skyscraper, “business”17 was seen as the primary motivation for upward growth. As the Skyscraper swells in volume, the redundancy of the floors allows superfluous functions to thrive – shops, restaurants, museums, theatres, hotels, etc. Like opening a Russian doll, the cottages of the 1909 cartoon are revealed after the camouflage of “business” is undone, but not as themselves. The cottages are but a camouflage

Koolhaas, Delirious New York, 85.

Koolhaas, Delirious New York, 83.

Koolhaas, Delirious New York, 85.

Koolhaas, Delirious New York, 87.

Koolhaas used the word “business” as a disambiguation to denote typologies that bring about profit.

to “culture,”18 and the looming epoch of interior design, the alchemy of which turns interior spaces into fetishized versions of the great outdoors – Greek, Roman, Venetian, or simply, Manhattan.19 However, for Koolhaas, the real appeal of the 1909 cartoon lay not in the facsimile diversity of the detached homes but in the “neutrality”20 of the steel framework. Koolhaas writes, “Villas may go up and collapse, other facilities may replace them, but that will not affect the framework.”21 The framework is what remains unchanged after the ruins of the programs. Despite internal displacements, the steel matrix retains its autonomy from the outside through its sheer volume. With the neutral frame of the Skyscraper, Manhattan becomes an “archipelago”22 of “architectural city-states.”23 Referring to the 1909 theorem, Koolhaas states: “The disconnectedness of the aerial plots seemingly conflicts with the fact that, together, they add up to a single building. The diagram strongly suggests even that the structure is a whole exactly to the extent that the individuality of the platform is preserved and exploited, that its success should be measured by the degree to which the structure frames their coexistence without interfering with their destinies.” The instability of the interior programs does not threaten the totality of the Skyscraper. Instead, it magnifies the gravitational field of the Skyscraper, which absorb the functions of the city, while repelling life outside of it – “the lobby competes with the street” and “the elevators…transport the visitor even further into the building’s subjectivity.” 24 The fact that the 1909 theorem was a cartoon featuring in a popular magazine such as Life did not discourage Koolhaas from viewing it as a serious theoretical project. Quite the contrary, Koolhaas believed that its popular origin gave it a better legitimacy as well as clarity. The 1909 cartoon represented “a subterranean collective dialogue about the new form”25 of the Skyscraper, which the architects have been unable to identify due to their devotion to older schools of thought, such as the Beaux-Arts tradition, in which a correspondence between the exterior and the interior was deemed not only beautiful, but moral. Perhaps from the very beginning, architects were unequipped to accept the birth of the new form, as the monopoly of the steel frame would reduce his role into a sculptor of “the brutal skyward extrusion of whatever

Koolhaas uses the word “culture” as a disambiguation to denote typologies that are peripheral to business.

Koolhaas, Delirious New York, 101-104. Koolhaas describes the 1908 project “Murray’s Roman Gardens” in extensive detail to demonstrate

how extravagant interior design had become inside the Manhattan Skyscraper. “Murray’s Roman Gardens” used various references for its decoration – Roman, Greek, and Egyptian. 20

Koolhaas, Delirious New York, 85.

Ibid.,

Koolhaas, Delirious New York, 97.

Koolhaas, Delirious New York, 89.

Koolhaas, Delirious New York, 88.

Ibid.,

site the developer has managed to assemble”26; or into a salesman who sells off subplots within the extruded perimeter of the block. Even if some architects capitalised on the evolution of the Skyscraper, he would have done so only to accelerate his own downfall. Kidnapped by Rem Koolhaas, the 1909 cartoon matures into a sinister messenger of the Zeitgeist. The original utopian vision of the countryside life in the city, held with much hope as with ridicule, is turned upside down to advertise the final triumph of the city over all other forms of life. With the 1909 theorem, the interior expels the life outside the Skyscraper. The architects who had been directing the play of urban life must now take its leave from the stage.

Misreading 2: 1981 and 1987

“This project is an experimental condominium prototype of eight to fifteen stories high intended for construction in a major city centre. The U-shaped steel-and-concrete structure supports a vertical community of private houses, whose style is chosen by individual residents, clustered into villagelike compounds on each floor. All levels provide flexible platforms that can be purchased by tenants like land parcels (plots in the sky), and a central elevator and mechanical core services the separate houses, gardens, and interior streets. The ground floor and one intermediate level include shops, food markets, professional offices, entertainment facilities, and an atrium garden space.”27

Where Koolhaas saw a metaphor for the Skyscraper, James Wines saw a solution – a new model for masshousing, freed from the oppression of a single architect. Wines’ translation of the 1909 cartoon was deliberately literal. In formulating the Highrise of Homes, Wines faithfully replicated the steel frame and the paraphernalia of detached homes, each with its own lot and style. The difference between Wines’ Highrise of Homes (See Figure 3), and Walker’s 1909 cartoon is so uncanny that they emerge as a collective imagery, erased of individual authorship. A decade after Rem’s Delirious New York, Wines made his most detailed commentary on the Highrise of Homes in De-Architecture in 1987: “The Highrise of Homes is based on the premise that people will benefit from 26

Ibid.,

Wines, James. De-Architecture. (New York: Rizzoli International Publications, 1987) 161-162.

the personal affirmation and territorial definition associated with the detached house, even if it is in the compressed environment of a multistorey building.”28 Even in the original 1909 cartoon, the detached homes had been a proxy for real estate desires. In the Highrise of Homes, the collage of detached homes stands for nothing else but itself – as homes. Wines’ great innovation and radicality lay in the absence of interpretation. In his reproduction, Wines designed the steel frame to give it a more generic look (See Figure 4 and Figure 5) Forming a quadrangle with three built sides around a courtyard, the steel frame readily conforms to the rectilinear grid. Two staircase wells flank the parallel sides of the building and the elevator shaft sits in the main axis of the building. The lower floors open itself to the streets below, adorned with shopfronts and lobbies. If it were not for the individual houses, the steel frame could pass as a shopping mall, an office tower, or a car park. In fact, one might ask: Is the Highrise of Homes not a car park? Instead of cars, one parks his home in the ready-made subplots on the steel frame. By 1981, Wines had already mastered the suburban typologies of the car park and the drive-through retail stores. Having worked on multiple showrooms for the BEST products company throughout the 70s, Wines understood that architecture had become uprooted from its context, from Milwaukee to Miami. Homes had become more like cars, and cars had become more like homes. This subversion was portrayed earlier in the Ghost Parking Lot project in 1978.29 The Highrise of Homes is simply an inversion of the Ghost Parking Lot – but now, suburbia makes a U-turn to the city. In Delirious New York, Koolhaas had deliberately shied away from addressing the suburban nature of the 1909 cartoon. In contrast, Wines openly embraces the hallmarks of suburbia in the Highrise of Homes. For Wines, the home is a house with a garden.30 Whereas the 1909 cartoon illustrated for Koolhaas an internal diaspora of programs within the Skyscraper, for Wines, the migration is external. As “the elitist privacy of the mansion on the hill or the cottage in the country”31 becomes less affordable, the Highrise of Homes offers a return ticket to those who have left the city, promising “a democratic mix of public and private”32 within the city. While both Koolhaas and Wines claimed the steel frame as a neutral matrix, their vision for the steel frame differed greatly. For Koolhaas, the steel frame structure is not static. Under the pressure of speculation and the 28

Wines, De-Architecture, 162.

Ghost Parking Lot (1978) “incorporates two ubiquitous elements of the suburban shopping center – automobiles sitting on an asphalt

parking lot surface – and then inverts their relationship to each other. Twenty historical cars are partially buried in Hamden Plaza and covered by a thin skin of asphalt paving. Each vehicle is embedded, on graduated levels, from full exposure of the body contours to complete interment. This work of environmental art deals with a number of factors connected to the American automotive experience; for example, the blurred vision assocated with motion, the fetishism of car culture, and the questions evoked by the contrasts between inertia and mobility.” – from Womersley, Steve, ed. The Master Architect Series VI: SITE - Identity in Density. Victoria, Austrailia: The Images Publishing, 2005. 30

Wines, De-Architecture, 163.

Ibid.,

increasing demands of the city, the steel frame must constantly propel itself upwards. In the Highrise of Homes, the steel frame is given a rather unimpressive scale of eight to fifteen stories. The monumentality of the original 1909 cartoon, which had boasted 84 colossal planes for the country villas, is erased from the Highrise of Homes. In Wines’ reproduction, the steel structure appears immobile and outdated; the momentum of growth is lost from its very inception. It is true that some of the more radical elements of the 1909 cartoon was lost in Wines’ translation. However, one may defend Wines for his commitment to developing the idea of Highrise of Homes as a widely applicable model for mass-housing. In De-Architecture, Wines proposes two methods to realise the Highrise of Homes. In the “luxury”33 version, the developer builds the steel matrix and sells off the plots to the individuals. In the “middle-income adaptation,”34 Wines contemplates on the re-use of abandoned factory buildings. Once the warehouse is stripped down to its structure and core services are added, the individuals can plug-in their homes using standardized building parts. The hypothetical assembly of the kit of parts is well illustrated in Figure 9. Despite the generous intention of the architect, the more Wines expand upon the practical application of the Highrise of Homes, the more the project loses its persuasion and provocation as an alternative model of masshousing. What was once a visionary reunion of urban and suburban forms of life becomes a deceitful and shortsighted solution to the problem of housing and density. Especially in the more economic version of the Highrise of Homes, the expression of individuality of the homes become only skin-deep, reduced to choosing this brick or that brick; this door or that door; this lamp or that lamp. The proposition of Highrise of Homes is now indistinguishable from modernist slabs, in which the same idea of prefabricated plug-in housing modules had been repeated as a negotiation of the collective and the individual.35 But perhaps that was the point: For Wines, one of the most important function of the house lay not only in the mechanical fulfilment of everyday needs, but also in its psychological effect. The house must communicate to its inhabitant before it can become a home. To do so, the design relies on past references that are both consistent and familiar to have become also universal. Thus, the alibi for the Highrise of Homes is that although its solution remains at the cosmetic level, the “invasion of popular typologies chosen by the residents”36 allow people to finally comprehend and internalise the life on multistorey housing as it had never been done before. The new role of the architect is not to design everything himself, but to provide legible choices to the user. Above all else, the biggest discrepancy between the 1909 cartoon and the Highrise of Homes can be located not in its foreground, but in its background. The contradictions within the different iterations of the Highrise of 33

Wines, De-Architecture, 162.

Ibid.,

For example, Le Corbusier’s Unite d’Habitation was designed as a framework, within which the duplex housing units would be slotted in, as

if one would place the wine bottle in a wine bottle rack. 36

Wines, De-Architecture, 164.

Homes betray a deeper discontent for the legacies of the 1909 cartoon. While the elevations of Figure 13 and Figure 14 depict Highrise of Homes within an urban setting, the perspective drawings of Figure 15 and Figure 16 situates Highrise of Homes within a deserted landscape overrun with vegetation. To dismiss the absence of the cityscape in these perspective drawings as an accidental omission, would be to discredit Wines, who was an excellent artist and draftsman. Clearly, everything on the page has been carefully placed and mulled over, as seen from the level of detail produced on the encyclopaedia of homes. As the trees and overgrown grass recede into gradations of painterly dabs, the Highrise of Homes manifests itself as an orphaned monument, belonging neither to the city nor the country.

Misreading Continues: 2021

If one of our generation were to re-draw Wines’ Highrise of Homes, it would depict a much more desolate landscape. The homes would have been evicted out of the steel frames or else, covered with dustsheets and removal blankets. The steel frame tower might be hoarded altogether, and this sight will be so familiar to us that the drawing would lose any sense of radicality. The instability caused by the fiscal crisis and the housing bubble causes a constant hum of mini earthquakes that we can no longer imagine mobility without displacement, fluidity without liquidation, and individuality without propaganda. Then what do we see in the Highrise of Homes? Why does it still hold our fascination? Is it nostalgia? – a longing for a time of innocence, wherein the idea of individual expression of homes hovering in the sky seemed like a genuine progress? Or are we looking at a self-portrait? For the Highrise of Homes is already a ruin, a cemetery of bygone styles, a bare skeleton of a building. The Highrise of Homes is a universal idea that ends up in nowhere. Both the city and the country evacuate the frame. All that is left is the vengeance of nature, slowly making its way into the Neoclassical, the Vernacular, the Modernist, and the Post-modernist homes. Style erodes, and the steel frame remains.

Figure 1 A. B. Walker, Real Estate Number (New York: Life Publishing Company, 1909), retrieved from Hidden Architecture Blog, http://hiddenarchitecture.net/highrise-of-homes/.

Figure 2 Harry M. Petit, King's Dream of New York, from King's Views of New York (New York: Moses King, 1908), retrieved from The Skyscraper Museum, https://old.skyscraper.org/EXHIBITIONS/FUTURE_CITY/NEW_YORK_MODERN/walkthrough_1900.php.

Figure 3 James Wines, Highrise of Homes (1981), Entrance Elevation, Retrieved from MoMA collection, https://www.moma.org/collection/works/190688.

Figure 4 James Wines, Highrise of Homes (1981), Structural Matrix, Retrieved from MoMA collection, https://www.moma.org/collection/works/190687.

Figure 5 James Wines, Highrise of Homes (1981), Matrix Showing Typical Infill of Homes, Retrieved from MoMA collection, https://www.moma.org/collection/works/190686.

Figure 6 James Wines, Highrise of Homes (1981), Ground Floor Plan, Retrieved from MoMA collection, https://www.moma.org/collection/works/190690.

Figure 7 James Wines, Highrise of Homes (1981), Typical Floor Plan, Retrieved from MoMA collection, https://www.moma.org/collection/works/190691.

Figure 8 James Wines, Highrise of Homes (1981), Section, Retrieved from MoMA collection, https://www.moma.org/collection/works/190689.

Figure 9

James Wines, Highrise of Homes (1981), Axonometric of the Housing Components and the Installation Process, Retrieved from MoMA collection, https://www.moma.org/collection/works/190692.

Figure 10 James Wines, Highrise of Homes (1981), Axonometric, Retrieved from MoMA collection, https://www.moma.org/collection/works/190684.

Figure 11 James Wines, Highrise of Homes (1981), Axonometric of Low-Cost Prototype, Retrieved from Hidden Architecture Blog, http://hiddenarchitecture.net/highrise-of-homes/.

Figure 12 James Wines, Highrise of Homes (1981), Aerial Perspective and Plan, Retrieved from MoMA collection, https://www.moma.org/collection/works/708?artist_id=7570&page=1&sov_referrer=artist.

Figure 13 James Wines, Highrise of Homes (1981), Elevation, Retrieved from Hidden Architecture Blog, http://hiddenarchitecture.net/highrise-of-homes/.

Figure 14 James Wines, Highrise of Homes (1981), Elevation, Retrieved from Hidden Architecture Blog, http://hiddenarchitecture.net/highrise-of-homes/.

Figure 15 James Wines, Highrise of Homes (1981), Exterior Perspective, Retrieved from MoMA collection, https://www.moma.org/collection/works/709?artist_id=7570&page=1&sov_referrer=artist.

Figure 16

James Wines, Highrise of Homes (1981), Exterior Perspective, Retrieved from Hidden Architecture Blog, http://hiddenarchitecture.net/highrise-of-homes/.