Preserving Philadelphia
International House
By David Traub
I can still remember the excitement in the architectural community in 1970 when the International House building by architects Bower and Fradley was finished. Skillfully constructed of poured-in-place concrete in the modern style of the day (we did not say “modernist” then), and clearly influenced by the French architect, Le Corbusier.
Today, we say the International House is in the Brutalist style, but fifty years ago it would not have occurred to us to identify it that way. The terms Brutalist or Brutalism derives from the French word “brut,” which means “raw.” What originally was meant by the term as applied to architecture was that it was built of raw, exposed concrete.
In 1970, no thought came to mind that a building constructed with that material was “brutal” in the ordinary sense of the English word. The term Brutalist, however, has unfortunately come to mean actually brutal in appearance, and is applied to a broad range of buildings of the 1950s and 60s whether the buildings had any architectural distinction or not.
As a consequence, the term has led people to denigrate all of the buildings in the style, some of which have great merit. And sadly some of these have been demolished. The reality is that there are good and bad building in any architectural style. The choice of a style by the architect does not in itself guarantee a good product. Not long ago, Victorian architecture was generally despised. But perceptions of architectural styles change with the times. Today Victorian architecture is admired and popular with the public.
Nevertheless there are some Victorian examples that are truly bad as judged by agreed upon standards of good architecture - pleasing proportions, balanced massing whether symmetrical or asymmetrical, restraint and harmony in the selection of materials and color, considered relationship of detail to total form, and appropriate connection to context.
The fifteen story International House building design is an exemplar of these standards. Happily the building is not a dull, rectangular box like many high rises in Philadelphia. With three distinct sections, there is a complexity of form in space for the eye to enjoy. From the ground level, five floors rise, four of which step back like overlapping shelves .The tops of the shelves serve as terraces accessed from interior activity rooms and apartments.
This is the first section. Rising eight floors, all in the same vertical plane, the large main section contains the dormitory rooms. This is termed here, the second section. The third section intervenes and demarcates the singularity of the sections above and below. It has only two floors, the higher of which is filled with rows of pronounced, narrow, vertically shaped apertures contrasting with the appearance of the other openings in the building. This small section, by virtue of the incisive, soldier-like slots, holds its own within the two bigger volumes, and allows for balance of the soaring top section with the weight of the bottom section. Here is an example of vertical asymmetrical balance.
Happily, International House faces the south sun. To soften that strong summer light and reduce heat gain, the architects have provided projecting concrete frames for the dorm room windows,”brise-soliel,” French for “sun-breaks,” also influenced by the work of Le Corbusier in his buildings in Marseille and in Chandigarh, India. The concrete frames are much thinner though than those employed by Le Corbusier and provide a more delicate appearance. The well- proportioned sun-breaks give the added benefit of providing depth to the facade with a play of light and shadow.
Essentially there are only two materials utilized: glass and a warm-toned concrete that glows in the sun. Here there is restraint and harmony in the use of material and color, in contradistinction to the many buildings today that display a garish mix of surface treatments. Details such as the railings and the scupper boxes enhance but don’t’ compete with the overall design. Following the rule of the modern movement, ornament is absent. The interior of the stepped lower section features a dramatic, multi-story, arcade-like corridor, running the entire length of the building, and lined with amenities and offices.
The residential floors are organized into suites of 10 dorms each with balconies that break up the rhythm of the sun-breaks and provide variety to the façade treatment. The balconies together with the stepped terraces open the building up to the garden space below, created by the setback from Chestnut Street, and the great outdoors beyond. Does the building relate to its context?
Probably, the answer is no, but really given the incoherent mix of structures that line Chestnut Street nearby, there is no context to relate to. If anything the building “relates by contrast,” and this historically has been a strategy for situating modern buildings in a traditional setting. The matter of placing the building on the Philadelphia Register of Historic Places comes before the Designation Committee of the Philadelphia Historical later this year.
Because the International House is the only distinguished example in the city of the modern style of Le Corbusier as interpreted by the respected firm of Bower and Fradley, it merits designation. There was nothing like this astonishing building in Philadelphia in 1970, nor is there today. The building should definitely be protected by the Historical Commission for future generations to admire. David S. Traub, AIA Emeritus
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