The author of the just-published Gordon Bunshaft and SOM: Building Corporate Modernism (Yale University Press) recently came across the only extant painting by the architect. Adams, professor emeritus at Vassar, tells the story here.
In her new book on the urban planner Ed Logue, Saving America’s Cities, Lizabeth Cohen makes a point I wish I’d had the wit to write in my own book on the architect Gordon Bunshaft. Writing a book, she notes, about someone recently deceased means forming your interpretation out on a windy promontory, balancing yourself against the opinions of people who knew your subject personally and, sometimes, intimately. The breeze is invigorating but it presents some difficulty when it comes to forming your own take. A trivial incident in the case of Bunshaft comes to mind. In the casual way of many biographers, I took to calling my subject by a pet-name: “Bun,” or “Uncle Bunny.” One of his former colleagues was outraged. “He was always Mr. Bunshaft!” he insisted—and was only partially assuaged when I sent him letters addressed “Dear Bun,” and diary entries in which the architect referred to himself as “Uncle Bunny.”
You have 0 complimentary articles remaining.
Unlimited access + premium benefits for as low as $1.99/month.