Glance spring2013 mclaughlin pages

Glance this is our town

Look to the Stars Los Angeles’ Griffith Observatory

J U N E 2 01 3 ISSUE #23

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contents

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Buzz

artboards

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fabrication

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griffith observatory

a sense of space 5

a publication for you, who loves the new & old architecture of los angeles. whether you are stepping out your front door to get here, or have traveled many miles, you want to experience all of what la has to offer. this is our town, have a Glance at it.

Glance

this is our town

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a note from the editor :

Look Up! This issue of Glance will take you on a journey that will leave you in awe under the gorgeous Los Angeles night sky at the Griffith Observatory, located just past the historic Greek Theatre where Heart will be performing this summer.

Need a day out of the city?

Take a drive out to smell the beautiful wild flowers off Mulholland Drive out toward Malibu.

In this issue we also take a moment to recognize some very talented students from local design school FIDM. Followed by the work of photographer Julius Schulman, and some of his fabulous shots of Los Angeles architecture.

There is plenty to look forward to, be sure to keep your eyes open and don’t forget, look up at those beautiful starts this summer.

WMc Whitney McLaughlin

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Buzz

TASTE — road — degree — tune

“Pop!” - Brian Palmer

Charms Blow Pops are lollipops with bubble gum centers surrounded by a hard candy shell. The candy was popularized

by The Charms Company, which was acquired by Tootsie Roll Industries in 1988. Invention of the candy is attributed to Thomas Tate Tidwell in 1966, with the patent issued in November 1969. The candy was originally manufactured by the Triple T Candy Company (Atlanta, Georgia) and sold under the brand name “Triple Treat.” The new brand name, “Charms Blow Pops,” was introduced in 1973.

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l l e m S d ers” n a p o w t o S“ l F d l i W e th - Whitney McLaughlin

Architecture in Los Angeles is gorgeous! This is something we all can agree on, but from time to time we all need to get out of here and take some time to stop and smell the flowers. Well we have found a beautiful location for just the thing!

Hop on the good old 101 highway and head North, just like you’re going to Malibu, maybe pack your suit and hit Malibu too! Anyway, once you’ve made it through the traffic, unless you’ve left at that magic moment where you avoid it, get off the freeway at Mulholland, make a left, and keep going up those windy roads. The wild flowers that grow up there are fabulous, and so are the views. This is also one of the best spots to drive up late at night on those special occasions when we have meteor showers. Wild flowers, meteor showers, oh and some fantastic home architecture too! This is a great day trip & a beloved location by many Los Angeles locals.

We highly recommend Neptune’s Net for lunch just off PCH.

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” d e t a r t “Illus - Whitney McLaughlin

Justin Will -

His first portfolio began to take shape directly on his body. Will has been inking his skin for many years, and although space is limited, he is no where near complete.

As a student preparing to graduate from FIDM in Los Angeles, Justin does not worry about how his tattoo’s will affect his job placement. They are a part of who he is, and as a Graphic Design major going into the area of entertainment, Will knows that he wants to work where his style is to be appreciated, not frowned upon.

Many people initially discouraged him from getting ink on areas like the hands and neck, saying “how will you ever get a job!” but Justin stayed true to his art and himself. By taking the steps towards becoming a successful designer, Will is confident that his ink is sure to benefit him in seeking out a career he loves. People know what he’s about from the moment they lay eyes on him, he is an artist - skin to soul.

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when my wife wears this to bed

it’s her way of telling me i’m not going to score 13

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“Heart At The Greek!”

- Whitney McLaughlin

2013 Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductees, HEART, will take their critically acclaimed live show on the road this summer with very special guest JASON BONHAM’S LED ZEPPELIN EXPERIENCE. Ann and Nancy Wilson first met Jason Bonham, son of famed Led Zeppelin drummer, John Bonham, when they performed “Stairway to Heaven” together at the Kennedy Center Honors tribute to Led Zeppelin in December 2012. Over 6 million fans have watched the performance online and purchased the track on ITunes. Now, in addition to a full set of Heart classic hits including “Crazy on You,” “Barracuda,” “Alone,” “These Dreams,” “What About Love,” and many more, fans can experience this historical pairing live when Heart and Bonham close each show with a special thirty-minute finale tribute to Led Zeppelin.

Ann Wilson promises fans an incredibly special event. “Nancy and I and the rest of Heart are thrilled to be playing with Jason and his band this summer. Awesome rock n roll music every night...miracles apt to happen any old time.” Nancy adds, “It’s not a tribute as we have the blessings of the gods themselves.”

Jason adds, “What a great night it was for us at the Kennedy Center awards, and now to be able to do it again on the road with Ann and Nancy is such an honor for me. I am really looking forward to taking my Led Zep Experience show out this summer with Heart and to join them in a Zep-a-thon closing the show as well. Just fantastic!”

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By Mani O’ Brien

ARt BOARDS 16

Los Angeles FIDM Graphic Design students collaborate to make fashion and art intersect

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he bold wooden sign hanging six feet high on the wall of Signal Snowboards’ factory in Huntington Beach lovingly expresses what makes the mountain accessories brand so unique, “Proudly Made in California.”

FIDM Graphic Design Students Angelica Villegas (left) and Patrick Lee holding the snowboards they designed, custom built by Signal Snowboards for FIDM DEBUT 2013.

Boasting 15,786 YouTube subscribers and more than 2 million views over the past two and a half years, Signal is celebrating its 10th year of business and has gained notoriety through ETT through which the company shows off its manufacturing process and transforms unusual materials (xylophone keys, Italian glass and Legos, for example) into one-off custom snowboards.

Through ETT, which is in its third season, Signal has developed a bulletproof board, a board equipped with solar panels to charge electronic devices, and even a board-bicycle hybrid that allowed paralyzed former pro snowboarder Tim Ostler to get back on the slopes Made possible by Signal’s unique domestic manufacturing facility– a rare if not nonexistent practice in the industry– the show has served as a marketing tool that demonstrates the company’s commitment to innovation, which reflects the rebellious nature of the action sports industry they serve.

Fashion will be the focus of an upcoming episode of ETT, details of which will be revealed in April.

In the meantime, 11 excited FIDM Graphic Design Students are thrilled to have been involved in a special industry collaboration with Signal who manufactured custom boards that will be unveiled to 10,000 people over three days at FIDM’s DEBUT Runway Show next week.

“Collaborating with FIDM has been a lot of fun. We’re breaking new ground by colliding two worlds together in such a unique way,” says Signal’s CEO Dave Lee. “Through ETT, we are going from concept to design and onto the runway! A fun project for all involved.”

Models donning winter action sports attire designed by FIDM Advanced Fashion Design Student, Kelly Knagg, will carry the 11 boards at FIDM DEBUT, along with a special concept board that will be featured in the April episode of Signal’s ETT series. The DEBUT models will include Signal’s own team manager, Joey Yorba and pro boarder Pat Garvin.

Last week, five of the 11 graphic design students ventured to Signal Snowboards’ headquarters, located in the heart of the surf/skate/action sports apparel industry (down the street from Quiksilver/Roxy, Vans, and DC for example) to get a first-hand look at how Signal builds their boards from start to finish.

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fabrication USB Typewriter USB Typewriter circuitry can transform your old manual typewriter into a retro-futuristic marvel. Use a gorgeous vintage typewriter as the computer keyboard for your Mac or PC, or type with ink-on-paper while electronically recording your keystrokes!

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Glass Roulette F Shot If you’re getting past the beer pong stage,

F Wewood Wewood Men’s Limited Edition

give this roulette wheel a spin. It includes a working roulette wheel, two metal roulette balls and 16 numbered shot glasses, adding the glamor of a casino and the element of chance to your next event.

Jupiter Beige Dual Movement Wooden Watch is made of 100% wood, it is hypo-allergenic and completely free of toxic chemicals.

F Kikkerland Robot Tea Infuser

Use this charming robot stainless steel tea infuser to prepare your favorite loose tea. His arms and hands move to create a custom fit to your favorite tea mug. Rest him on the included drip tray when your tea is steeped. Use his antenna’s to open and close.

Charger F SOS Hand crank self-powered generator for charging cell phones and hand-held devices with super-bright 3 LED flashlight to light the way when you need it most. Never needs batteries, no bulbs to replace, instantly generate power

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Chicken Burger USB Hub This fun USB hub is shaped as a delicious Chicken Burger. Of course, it’s impossible that the fake burger is made out of vegetable, meat and bread. It uses polyresin material. When removing the top piece of the burger, you will find the 4 USB ports inside. Very delicious, but for your USB devices instead of you.

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Calf and Half Creamer Pitcher Whimsical creamer pitcher sports a humorous udder-shaped interior vessel is handcrafted of double-walled glass with oversized handle and drip-resistant spout and suspends liquids above base for condensation-free use at the counter or table.

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Chef’n Banana Slicer Quick, safe, and easy, the Banana Slicer by Chef’n is perfect for all ages and a variety of meals.

Breakfast, desert or snacks its perfect for use directly over a bowl or plate.

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Mini Kegerator Houses 5 liter min kegs to keep your beer ice cold and fresh from the tap.

Sheik design sure to look great on your counter and easy portability with AC and DC compatible power adapter.

Great for day to day use, parties, or tailgating!

Soggy Cereal Bowl FObolOblo,hasthetwoNever sections – an upper area for your cereal, and a lower reservoir for milk.

Scoop a spoonful of your cereal into your spoon, then swoop into the milk for the perfect bite every time. Obol is also great for milk and cookies, soup and crackers, even chips and salsa. Its uses are as unlimited as your imagination!

Food Dispenser F Dry The Dry Food Dispenser design allows for as needed dispensing with about 1 ounce per twist.

Keeps a variety of foods fresh, including cereal, oatmeal, candy, granola, nuts, beans, and rice.

Kids can serve themselves and you’ll have more room in your pantry.

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Glance the summer build up 21

Griffith

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Observatory The Los Angeles destination, to spend your summer nights under the stars.

Griffith Observatory’s unique architecture and setting, compelling programmatic offerings, and cinematic exposure have made it one of the most famous and visited landmarks in southern California.

Tens of millions have come to walk the inside of the building, view the live planetarium shows, or simply gaze out towards the coast and the heavens. This cultural and scientific icon owes its existence to the dream of one man, Griffith Jenkins Griffith, and to the dedicated scientists and public servants who worked to fulfill his vision of making astronomy and observation accessible to all.

The History The land on which Griffith Observatory sits was once a part of a Spanish settlement known as Rancho Los Feliz. The Spanish Governor of California bequeathed it to Corporal Vincente Felis in the 1770s. The land stayed in the Felis family for over a century, being subdivided through generations, until Griffith, a wealthy mining speculator, purchased what remained of the rancho in 1882.

Griffith J. Griffith was born in Wales in 1850 and came to America as a teenager. He worked as a journalist and mining advisor before making his fortune in Mexican silver mines and, subsequently, southern California real estate. He moved to Los Angeles after purchasing the rancho and spent the rest of his life there. Griffith enjoyed being referred to as ?Colonel Griffith?, though it seems he was never officially commissioned as an officer (nor is it clear that he even served in the military).

During a tour abroad, Griffith had discovered the great public parks of Europe and decided that his home, Los Angeles, would need a “Great Park” for the public in order to become a great city. On December 16, 1896, he donated 3,015 acres of Rancho Los Felis to the City of Los Angeles in order to create a public park in his name. “It must be made a place of rest and relaxation for the masses, a resort for the rank and file, for the plain people,” Griffith said on that occasion. “I consider it my obligation to make Los Angeles a happy, cleaner, and finer city. I wish to pay my debt of duty in this way to the community in which I have prospered.” Griffith Park became the largest urban park in the U.S. with wilderness areas. The City Council proclamation accepting Griffith’s gift hangs (along with a portrait commissioned after his death) in the W.M. Keck Foundation Central Rotunda inside Griffith Observatory.

Griffith J. Griffith was introduced to astronomy through the Astronomical Section of the Southern California Academy of Sciences. He was also impressed by his visits to the new research observatory established at Mount Wilson in 1904.

He believed that an individual gained an enlightened perspective when looking at the skies. His reaction after looking through the 60-inch telescope at Mount Wilson -then the largest in the world -- was described by John Anson Ford: “The experience moved him profoundly - a distant, heavenly body suddenly being brought so close and made so real!” Ford quotes Griffith as saying “Man’s sense of values ought to be revised. If all mankind could look through that telescope, it would change the world!”

Griffith’s experience on Mount Wilson focused his desire to make science more accessible to the public. On December 12, 1912, he offered the City of Los Angeles $100,000 for an observatory to be built on the top of Mount Hollywood to be fully owned and operated by the City of Los Angeles. Griffith’s plan for the observatory would include an astronomical telescope open to free viewing, a Hall of Science designed to bring the public into contact with exhibits about the

physical sciences, and a motion picture theater which would show educational films about science and other subjects.

This last aspect of the plan would eventually evolve into the planetarium, a technology not invented until the 1920s.

The City Council accepted Griffith’s gift and appointed him head of a three-person Trust committee to supervise the construction of the observatory and a Greek theatre performing arts facility, which Griffith promised to the city the following year. Bogged down by further political debate, the project continued to be delayed. In 1916, with his health failing, Griffith realized that his vision of a public observatory would not be realized in his lifetime. He drafted a will containing bequests for the observatory and Greek theatre, along with detailed specifications regarding the nature of the observatory, its location, and programmatic offerings. Griffith died on July 6, 1919.

Griffith’s dream finally began to become reality in the spring of 1930, as the Griffith Trust (the governing board for the expenditures from the Griffith estate) enlisted some of the leading astronomers and scientists of the day as the core team planning the construction of Griffith Observatory.

George Ellery Hale, who had overseen the creation of the great telescopes at Yerkes, Mount Wilson, and Palomar Observatories, used his knowledge to steer the overall design. Caltech physicist Edward Kurth drew up the preliminary plans and later guided the construction of the building.

Russell W. Porter, the “Patron Saint” of the amateur telescope-making movement, was an invaluable aide to Kurth. In May of 1931 the Griffith Trust and Los Angeles Park Commissioners selected architects John C. Austin and Frederick M. Ashley to oversee the final plans for the new observatory building. Austin and Ashley hired Kurth to direct the project with Porter as consultant.

Caltech and Mount Wilson engineers drew up plans for the Observatory’s fundamental exhibits: a Foucault Pendulum, a 38-foot-diameter model of a section of the Moon sculpted by artist Roger Hayward, and a “three-in-one” coelostat (three tracking mirrors on one mount to feed three separate solar telescopes) so that the public could study the Sun in the Hall of Science. The Trust judged the 12-inch Zeiss refracting telescope as the best commercially available instrument of its kind and selected it to be used as the public telescope.

A 75-foot-wide theater --one of the largest in the world -- was designed to hold a Zeiss planetarium projector. The planetarium had been invented in 1923, four years after Griffith’s death, and his family agreed with the Trustees that it more fully honored his intent than the originally planned cinematic theater. The Observatory’s planetarium was the third to be completed in the United States.

Groundbreaking for Griffith Observatory occurred on June 20, 1933, with the William Simpson Construction Company as the builder. While the building quickly took shape,

Griffith’s dream finally began to become reality in the spring of 1930

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James Dean Memorial Although hundreds of films, television shows, and commercials have used the picturesque surroundings of Griffith Observatory, none have featured the building more prominently or brought as much international attention as the Warner Brothers production of Rebel Without a Cause in 1955. This landmark motion picture, which immortalized James Dean in the most remembered of his three films, captured both the interior and exterior of the Observatory in several key scenes and marked the first time a planetarium theater was used in a film.

In 1955, James Dean went to the studio of Hollywoodbased artist Kenneth Kendall after seeing a sculpture he had done of Dean hero, Marlon Brando, and requested that Kendall do a bust of him. Kendall began the sculpture the night that Dean was killed. Decades later, in commemoration of the use of the Observatory in the film, Rebel Without a Cause, a monument featuring the bust Dean commissioned was placed on the west side of the Observatory lawn (a second copy of the bust can be seen at the James Dean Memorial Park in the actor’s hometown of Fairmount, Indiana). The monument has now been restored and reinstalled in its new location, where visitors will now be able to snap pictures of the monument with the iconic Hollywood Sign in the same frame.

Edward Kurth was tragically killed in a car accident in February 1934. The Griffith Trust brought in physicist Rudolph Langer to oversee the completion of the building, and Philip Fox, Director of the Adler Planetarium in Chicago, whose advice had been sought in the earliest phases of planning, was now increasingly involved with designing exhibits for the Hall of Science.

Griffith Observatory was shaped not only by the minds of scientists but also by the times in which it was built. A major earthquake in Long Beach in March 1933 -- just as construction plans were being finalized -- led the architects to abandon the planned terra cotta exterior in favor of strengthening and thickening the building’s concrete walls. Lower-thanusual prices caused by the Great Depression enabled the selection of the finest materials of the day for the interior walls, floors, and finishes, making the building both beautiful and durable. And a depression-era Federal public works program employed six sculptors to create a public sculpture at Griffith Observatory. The resulting Astronomers Monument, dedicated in November 1934, was hailed as one of the most important pieces of art to be completed by the program.

The dedication and formal opening of Griffith Observatory took place amid much fanfare on May 14, 1935. On that day, the Griffith Trust transferred ownership of the building to the City of Los Angeles; the City’s Department of Recreation and Parks (called the Department of Parks at the time of the transfer) has operated the facility ever since. From the moment the Observatory was opened to the public, those who served as full-time and part-time staff worked daily to fulfill the original vision of the Griffith Observatory as an educational and inspirational resource for all of society.

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The Renovation

The Observatory closed in 2002 for renovation and a major expansion of exhibit space. It reopened to the public on November 3, 2006, retaining its art deco exterior.

The $93 million renovation, paid largely by a public bond issue, restored the building, as well as replaced the aging planetarium dome. The building was expanded underground, with completely new exhibits, a café, gift shop, and the new Leonard Nimoy Event Horizon Theater. The Café at the End of the Universe, an homage to Restaurant at the End of the Universe, is one of the many cafés run by celebrity chef Wolfgang Puck. One wall inside the building is covered with the largest astronomically accurate image ever constructed (152 feet long by 20 feet (6.1 m) high), called “The Big Picture”, depicting the Virgo Cluster of galaxies; visitors can explore the highly detailed image from within arm’s reach or through telescopes 60 feet (18 m) away. The 1964-vintage Zeiss Mark IV star projector was replaced with a Zeiss Mark IX Universarium. The former planetarium projector is part of the underground exhibit on ways in which humanity has visualized the skies.

Side view of the Observatory after renovations in 2007 Since the observatory opened in 1935, admission has been

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free, in accordance with Griffith’s will. Tickets for the show Centered in the Universe in the 290-seat Samuel Oschin Planetarium Theater are purchased separately at the box office within the observatory. Tickets are sold on a first-come, firstserved basis.

Children under 5 are free, but are admitted to only the first planetarium show of the day. Only members of the observatory’s support group, Friends Of The Observatory, may reserve tickets for the planetarium show. Centered in the Universe features a high-resolution immersive video projected by an innovative laser system developed by Evans and Sutherland Corporation, along with a short night sky simulation projected by the Zeiss Universarium. A team of animators worked more than two years to create the 30-minute program. Actors, holding a glowing orb, perform the presentation, under the direction of Chris Shelton.

A wildfire in the hills came dangerously close to the observatory on May 10, 2007.On May 25, 2008, the Observatory offered visitors live coverage of the Phoenix landing on Mars. The observatory is split up into six sections: The Wilder Hall of the Eye, the Ahmanson Hall of the Sky, the W.M. Keck Foundation Central Rotunda, the Cosmic

Connection, the Gunther Depths of Space Hall, and the Edge of Space Mezzanine. The Wilder Hall of the Eye, located in the east wing of the main level focuses on astronomical tools like telescopes and how they evolved over time so people can see further into space. Interactive features there include a Tesla coil and a “Camera Obscura”, which uses mirrors and lenses to focus light onto a flat surface. The Ahmanson Hall of the Sky, located in the west wing, focuses on objects that are normally found in the sky, like the Sun and Moon. The main centerpiece of this section is a large solar telescope projecting images of the Sun, using a series of mirrors called coelostats. Exhibits here include a periodic table of the elements, a HertzsprungRussell diagram, and several alcoves showing exhibits about topics like day and night, the paths of the Sun and stars, the seasons, the phases of the Moon, tides, and eclipses. The W.M. Keck Foundation Central Rotunda features several Hugo Ballin murals on the ceiling and upper walls restored since 1934, a Foucault pendulum that demonstrates the Earth’s rotation, and a small exhibit dedicated to Griffith J. Griffith, which the observatory is named after. The Cosmic Connection is a 150 ft long hallway connecting the main building and the underground exhibition areas (see below) that depicts the

history of the universe from the Big Bang to the present day using several astronomy related jewelry. The Gunther Depths of Space Hall, is the lower level of the observatory. This hallway shows mostly how various celestial bodies have been revealed in full detail via modern astronomy. Exhibits include a lighted scale model of the Solar System’s planets using the Leonard Nimoy Event Horizon Theater as the Sun, with facts about each planet located below the model planets (Earth’s model instead has a small room containing a large model Earth globe as well as one the older Zeiss planetarium projectors), holographic projections showing various astronomy related imagery, stations showing facts about the stars and galaxies, and “The Big Picture”, a 150*20 foot mural showing the largest wide view of the universe taken by the Hubble Space Telescope yet. The Edge of Space Mezzanine, just right above the Depths of Space Hall, focuses more on astronomy related topics that involve celestial bodies much closer to Earth, with exhibits including meteorite displays, an asteroid impact simulator, a cloud and spark chamber, and a large globe of the Moon, as with telescopes overlooking the lower level that point at the Big Picture.

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A Sense of Space

By Peter Gossell Photographs by Julius Schulman

Photographer Julius Schulman’s photography spread California Mid-century modern around the world.

Carefully composed and artfully lighted, his images promoted not only new approaches to home design but also the ideal of idyllic California living — a sunny, suburban lifestyle played out in sleek, spacious, low-slung homes featuring ample glass, pools and patios.

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Even if you’re confused by the fork in the driveway, which slopes up to the Edenic apex of Laurel Canyon, or don’t recognize architect Raphael Soriano’s mid-century design landmark, you can’t miss Julius Shulman’s place.

It’s the one with the eight-foot-high banner bearing his name—an advertisement for his 2005 Getty Museum exhibition “Modernity and the Metropolis”—hanging before the door to the studio adjoining the house. As displays of ego go, it’s hard to beat. Yet the voice calling out from behind it is friendly, even eager—“Come on in!”

And drawing back the banner, one finds, not a monument, but a man: behind an appealingly messy desk, wearing blue suspenders and specs with lenses as big as Ring Dings, and offering a smile of roguish beatitude.

You’d smile, too. At 96, Shulman is the best known architectural photographer in the world, and one of the genre’s most influential figures. Between 1936, when a fateful meeting with architect Richard Neutra began his career, and his semi-retirement half a century later, he used his instinctive compositional elegance and hair-trigger command of light to document more than 6,500 projects, creating images that defined many of the masterworks of 20th-century architecture. Most notably, Shulman’s focus on the residential modernism of Los Angeles, which included photographing 18 of the 26 Case Study Houses commissioned by Arts & Architecture magazine between 1945 and 1967, resulted in a series of lyrical tableaux that invested the high-water moment

of postwar American optimism with an arresting, oddly innocent glamour. Add to this the uncountable volumes and journals featuring his pictures, and unending requests for reprints, and you have an artist whose talent, timing, ubiquity, and sheer staying power have buried the competition—in some cases, literally.

Shulman’s decision to call it quits in 1986 was motivated less by age than a distaste for postmodern architecture. But, he insists, “it wasn’t quite retiring,” citing the ensuing decade and a half of lectures, occasional assignments, and work on books. Then, in 2000, Shulman was introduced to a German photographer named Juergen Nogai, who was in L.A. from Bremen on assignment. The men hit it off immediately, and began partnering on work motivated by the maestro’s brandname status. “A lot of people, they think, It’d be great to have our house photographed by Julius Shulman,” says Nogai. “We did a lot of jobs like that at first. Then, suddenly, people figured out, Julius is working again.”

“I realized that I was embarking on another chapter of my life,” Shulman says, the pleasure evident in his timesoftened voice. “We’ve done many assignments”—Nogai puts the number at around 70—“and they all came out beautifully. People are always very cooperative,” he adds.

“They spend days knowing I’m coming. Everything is clean and fresh. I don’t have to raise a finger.” As regards the division of labor, the 54-year-old Nogai says tactfully, “The more active is me because of the age. Julius is finding the

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perspectives, and I’m setting up the lights, and fine-tuning the image in the camera.” While Shulman acknowledges their equal partnership, and declares Nogai’s lighting abilities to be unequaled, his assessment is more succinct: “I make the compositions. There’s only one Shulman.”

“The subject is the power of photography,” Shulman explains. “I have thousands of slides, and Juergen and I have assembled them into almost 20 different lectures. And not just about architecture—I have pictures of cats and dogs, fashion pictures, flower photographs. I use them to do a lot of preaching to the students, to give them something to do with their lives, and keep them from dropping out of school.”

It all adds up to a very full schedule, which Shulman handles largely by himself—“My daughter comes once a week from Santa Barbara and takes care of my business affairs, and does my shopping”—and with remarkable ease for a near-centenarian. Picking up the oversized calendar on which he records his appointments, Shulman walks me through a typical seven days: “Thom Mayne—we had lunch with him. Long Beach, AIA meeting. People were here for a meeting about my photography at the Getty [which houses his archive]. High school students, a lecture. Silver Lake, the Neutra house, they’re opening part of the lake frontage, I’m going to see that. USC, a lecture. Then an assignment, the Griffith Observatory—we’ve already started that one.”

Yet rather than seeming overtaxed, Shulman fairly exudes well-being. Like many elderly people with nothing left to prove, and who remain in demand both for their talents and as figures of veneration (think of George Burns), Shulman takes things very easy: He knows what his employers and admirers want, is happy to provide it, and accepts the resulting reaffirmation of his legend with a mix of playfully rampant immodesty and heartfelt gratitude. As the man himself puts it, “The world’s my onion.”

Given the fun Shulman’s having being Shulman, one might expect the work to suffer. But his passion for picturemaking remains undiminished. “I was surprised at how engaged Julius was,” admits the Chicago auction-house mogul Richard Wright, who hired Shulman to photograph Pierre Koenig’s Case Study House #21 prior to selling it last year. “He did 12 shots in two days, which is a lot. And he really nailed them.” Of this famous precision, says the writer Howard Rodman, whose John Lautner–designed home Shulman photographed in 2002: “There’s a story about Steve McQueen, where a producer was trying to get him to sign on to a movie. The producer said, ‘Look how much you change from the beginning to the end.’ And McQueen said, ‘I don’t want to be the guy who learns. I want to be the

guy who knows.’ And Shulman struck me as the guy who knows.”

This becomes evident as, picking up the transparencies from his two most recent assignments, he delivers an impromptu master class. “We relate to the position of the sun every minute of the day,” Shulman begins, holding an exterior of a 1910 Craftsman-style house in Oakland, by Bernard Maybeck, to the lamp atop his desk. “So when the sun moves around, we’re ready for our picture. I have to be as specific as a sports photographer—even a little faster,” he says, nodding at the image, in which light spills through a latticework overhang and patterns a façade. “This is early afternoon, when the sun is just hitting the west side of the building. If I’m not ready for that moment, I lose the day.”

He does not, however, need to observe the light prior to photographing: “I was a Boy Scout—I know where the sun is every month of the year. And I never use a meter.”

Shulman is equally proud of his own lighting abilities.

“I’ll show you something fascinating,” he says, holding up two exteriors of a new modernist home, designed for a family named Abidi, by architect James Tyler. In the first, the inside of the house is dark, resulting in a handsome, somewhat lifeless image. In the second, it’s been lit in a way that seems a natural balance of indoor and outdoor illumination, yet expresses the structure’s relationship to its site and showcases the architecture’s transparency. “The house is transfigured,” Shulman explains.

“I have four Ts. Transcend is, I go beyond what the architect himself has seen. Transfigure—glamorize, dramatize with lighting, time of day. Translate—there are times, when you’re working with a man like Neutra, who wanted everything the way he wanted it—‘Put the camera here.’

And after he left, I’d put it back where I wanted it, and he wouldn’t know the difference—I translated. And fourth, I transform the composition with furniture movement.”

To illustrate the latter, Shulman shows me an interior of the Abidi house that looks out from the living room, through a long glass wall, to the grounds. “Almost every one of my photographs has a diagonal leading you into the picture,” he says. Taking a notecard and pen, he draws a line from the lower left corner to the upper right, then a second perpendicular line from the lower right corner to the first line. Circling the intersection, he explains, “That’s the point of what we call ‘dynamic symmetry.’” When he holds up the photo again, I see that the line formed by the bottom of the glass wall—dividing inside from outside— roughly mirrors the diagonal he’s drawn. Shulman then indicates the second, perpendicular line created by the furniture arrangement. “My assistants moved [the coffee table] there, to complete the line. When the owner saw the

American photographer Julius Shulman’s images of Californian architecture have burned themselves into the retina of the 21th century.

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Polaroid, she said to her husband, ‘Why don’t we do that all the time?’”

Shulman’s remark references one of his signature gambits: what he calls “dressing the set,” not only by moving furniture but by adding everyday objects and accessories. “I think he was trying to portray the lifestyle people might have had if they’d lived in those houses,” suggests the Los Angeles–based architectural photographer Tim Street-Porter. “He was doing—with a totally positive use of the words—advertising or propagandist photographs for the cause.” This impulse culminated in Shulman’s introduction of people into his pictures—commonplace today, but virtually unique 50 years ago. “Those photographs—with young, attractive people having breakfast in glass rooms beside carports with two-tone cars—were remarkable in the history of architectural photography,” Street-Porter says. “He took that to a wonderfully high level.”

Surprisingly, Shulman underplays this aspect of his oeuvre. The idea, he explains, is simply to “induce a feeling of occupancy. For example, in the Abidi house, I put some wineglasses and bottles on the counter, which would

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indicate that people are coming for dinner. Then there are times I’ll select two or three people—the owner of a house, or the children—and put them to work. Sometimes it’s called for.”

“Are you pleased with these photographs?” I ask as he sets them aside. “I’m pleased with all my work,” he says cheerfully.

“I tell people in my lectures, ‘If I were modest, I wouldn’t talk about how great I am.’” Yet when I ask how he developed his eye, Shulman’s expression turns philosophical. “Sometimes Juergen walks ahead of me, and he’ll look for a composition. And invariably, he doesn’t see what I see. Architects don’t see what I see. It’s God-given,” he says, using the Yiddish word for an act of kindness—“a mitzvah.”

I suggest a tour of the house, and Shulman moves carefully to a rolling walker he calls “the Mercedes” and heads out of the studio and up the front steps. As a plaque beside the entrance indicates, the 3,000-square-foot, three-bedroom structure, which Shulman commissioned in 1948 and moved into two years later, was landmarked by L.A.’s Cultural Heritage Commission as the only steel-frame

Soriano house that remains as built. Today, such Case Study–era residences are as fetishized (and expensive) as Fabergé eggs. But when Shulman opens the door onto a wide, cork-lined hallway leading to rooms that, after six decades, remain refreshing in their clarity of function and communication, use of simple, natural materials, and openness to the out-of-doors, I’m reminded that the movement’s motivation was egalitarian, not elitist: to produce well-designed, affordable homes for young, middle-class families.

“Most people whose houses I photographed didn’t use their sliding doors,” Shulman says, crossing the living room toward his own glass sliders. “Because flies and lizards would come in; there were strong winds. So I told Soriano I wanted a transition—a screened-in enclosure in front of the living room, kitchen, and bedroom to make an indoor/ outdoor room.” Shulman opens the door leading to an exterior dining area. A bird trills loudly. “That’s a wren,” he says, and steps out. “My wife and I had most of our meals out here,” he recalls. “Beautiful.”

We continue past the house to Shulman’s beloved garden—he calls it “the jungle”—a riot of vegetation that

overwhelms much of the site, and frames an almost completely green canyon view. “I planted hundreds of trees and shrubs—back there you can see my redwoods,” he says, gesturing at the slope rising at the property’s rear.

“Seedlings, as big as my thumb. They’re 85 feet tall now.”

He pauses to consider an ominously large paw print in the path. “It’s too big for a dog. A bobcat wouldn’t be that big, either. It’s a mystery,” Shulman decides, pushing the Mercedes past a ficus as big as a baobab.

The mystery I find myself pondering, as we walk beside the terraced hillside, is the one he cited himself: the source of his talent. In 1936, Shulman was an amateur photographer—gifted, but without professional ambition— when he was invited by an architect friend to visit Richard Neutra’s Kun House. Shulman, who’d never seen a modern residence, took a handful of snapshots with the Kodak vest-pocket camera his sister had given him, and sent copies to his friend as a thank-you. When Neutra saw the images, he requested a meeting, bought the photos, and asked the 26-year-old if he’d like more work. Shulman accepted and—virtually on a whim—his career took off.he answers with a seemingly unrelated story.

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The End.

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