There's so much to say about Shulman's architectural photography. I only scratched the surface last time. Let's take a look at a few more pictures. We'll start with Shulman's take on the Bradbury Building (above) in downtown Los Angeles.
For comparison, here's (above) a color photo of the same building by a lesser photographer. Do you see the difference?
Shulman always managed to find something new to say, even when he shot familiar sites like the Bradbury Building. Other photographers dwelled on the Victorian feel of the building, or on the detail in the beautiful ironwork. Not Schulman. He saw a sci-fi forest of iron surrounding a great hole in the Earth. Where does it lead? Maybe to the center of the planet. Maybe to a lost civilization. Shulman prompts us to ask, was the architect manic? Was he a mystic? Was he supremely rational? Should a good architect be all those things or none? The better picture poses questions and hints at stories.
I imagine that Shulman frightened some architects by bringing out aspects of their buildings which they'd have preferred not to emphasize. The raised deck in this room was needed to give the room a dynamic sweep, but it has no obvious function.
A lesser photographer would have created a diversion, like an acted out cocktail party so we wouldn't ask questions about what the room was supposed to be for. Not Shulman. He presents the room to us in all its ambiguous glory, and invites us to have an opinion about it. He asks what we think of the notion that a room needn't be defined, that it can challenge us to be creative with it. I like the idea myself.
What's behind that ochre screen? Is that a kitchen? Is this a dining room? Maybe it's a rec room, I'm not sure. If it's a rec room then it was probably eventually used by its owners for storage...I mean, people accumulate things and most modern architects don't plan for that. That's okay. Funky storage can be beautiful too. It's a subject that's sadly neglected. I wish I had time to write more about it.
Shulman brought out the playfulness of the best modern architecture. Here's a carport and patio combined. I like the way the patio continues the lines which originate in the house. In some modern houses it's hard to tell where the outside begins and the inside ends.
Wow! Here's a terrific living room, interpreted by Shulman. It's modest and cozy, but it's also dynamic and exciting. That's a wonderful combination! Today most of the materials can probably be bought at Home Depot...er, or maybe not. That beautiful horizontal beam on the ceiling might be steel.
The people on the patio are casual, the props are simple. The emphasis here is on everyday living. Shulman invites us to speculate on what the quality of our lives and of our thoughts would be if we were exposed to a stimulating physical environment every day of our lives.
For comparison, here's (above) a home designed by an ordinary architect. A surprising number of architects and contractors are visually illiterate. Look how awkward and uninspiring the room is. The furniture sucks too, but that's the easiest thing to change.
Here's (above) Shulman's own house, built for him by an architect friend. I assume this picture was taken from his studio/workroom. It's separated from the house by a small Japanesey courtyard filled with plants and dappled sunlight. Elegant simplicity. Very nice.
Schulman was proud of his garden (above). Over the years he planted anything that took his fancy, wherever there was a free spot. He planted seeds from things that he ate, and even had a giant sequoia growing in there. After decades passed he had a unique forest, right outside his window. What a guy!
BTW: In a comment Jonathan Lyons said he lives in this kind of house and it's cold and noisy. Fascinating! This is the first feedback I've ever gotten from someone who actually lives the modernist dream. I should mention that Jonathan has a really nifty site called "Comedy for Animators." Check it out:
http://comedyforanimators.com/
