By Patrick F. Cannon
I have 42 framed pictures on the walls of my two-bedroom condominium: one original oil; seven original water colors; seven signed and numbered etchings; four signed and numbered lithographs; one pencil sketch; 12 photographs; and 10 reproductions. I also have numerous framed photos on tables and in bookcases. All have some personal meaning, or they wouldn’t be there.
That’s nice, you’re thinking, but what’s he getting at? Well, as it happens, my partner Jim Caulfield and I are working on a new book on Frank Lloyd Wright’s famous Robie House in Chicago. It is one of eight Wright buildings that have been designated as World Heritage Sites by UNESCO. We have already published a book on the other one in the Chicago area, Oak Park’s Unity Temple. If you don’t mind a bit of self-promotion, our most recent book, Louis Sullivan: An American Architect, just won the 2025 Gold Medal from the Independent Publisher Book Awards, our fourth such award.
I love Robie House. It is one of the landmarks of modern architecture, admired throughout the world. But if I bought it, I’d have to get rid of most of those 42 pictures. Aside from a couple of bedrooms, and the first-floor reception area, the main spaces defy the comfortable accommodation of most paintings. If you look at Jim Caulfield’s photo of the living room, what you mostly see is beautiful art glass. What little wall space available would demand only the smallest frames and even they would look clumsy.
There are other Wright houses that confound the picture hanger. He would have claimed, with some justice, that the house itself was work of art enough. To be fair, sideboards and other built-ins at Robie do provide adequate surfaces for pottery, statues, and plants. Studying period photographs from the family that lived longest in the house show only two small, framed pictures in the living and dining rooms. The original owner, Frederick Robie, was an engineer and apparently put more emphasis on light and air than framed works of art. For him, and for many others, the house works just fine. But, as much as I admire it, it’s not for me.
Another Chicago-area house that defies framed art is Ludvig mies van der Rohe’s Farnsworth House in Plano (although at 57 miles distant, “Chicago area” is stretching it a bit). It’s essentially a glass house, with a few interior walls. I have seen a couple of photos that show a framed picture on the main fireplace wall, but I imagine purists would frown upon desecrating it this way! But again, there are people who would love to live in what they consider a minimalist masterpiece.
Some architects have always believed they know best where and how people should live. Most people stubbornly resist these diktats. And they should, even if their taste runs to the now ubiquitous “McMansion.” There is nothing wrong with period styles, although I would prefer that the detailing be accurate, whether Tudor, Georgian, or even Prairie. And if you want a glass house, so be it; just don’t start throwing stones.
Copyright 2025, Patrick F. Cannon
cannonnadedotcom 
Congrats on the book award. I’ll have to keep an eye out for your new one on Robie House.
I don’t know when the idea of hanging art on walls began but I’d guess it derives from the Roman practice of decorating walls with frescos. You can still see them in the ancient ruins of the Forum and Palatine Hill, as well as in Pompeii. Since having frescos painted was expensive (and permanent!), at some point the nobility started mounting framed paintings in their stead. In Renaissance palazzi, paintings cover walls practically from floor to ceiling. Just two Rome examples, the Palazzo Colonna:
and the Palazzo Doria Pamphili:
The frescos (and stucco work) were mostly reserved for ceilings.
I admire FLW’s work, but not to sound like a philistine, I’d find living in his houses oppressive, with the Usonian houses a possible exception. There’s too much architecture. He’s compulsive about designing nearly every square area of the structure. One can tolerate only so much geometry! And unlike Japanese pagodas and temples, from which much of his early work seems derived, most Wright houses aren’t particularly airy and graceful, but angular and severe. (Ironically, the Japanese tore down his Tokyo hotel.)
The van der Rohe houses are even worse, but at least the lines are clean. Maybe too clean! I have enough trouble keeping the windows in my house clean. Did the Farnsworth House come with a lifetime supply of Windex and squeegees?
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As it happens, I have the window cleaner here today. I’ve been to the Farnsworth several times and the glass has always been clean. Maybe that’s how they start the day! The most livable of Wright houses are the later Usonians. There’s one near Fallingwater that I would much prefer to live in.
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