I am dismayed by Michael Kimmelman’s critical review (NYT) of Paul Rudolph’s retrospective. His article seems surprisingly harsh and misleading, especially from a critic like Kimmelman — who is not typically a reactionary.
As my colleague Peter Blackburn aptly observes, Rudolph is revered as a hero by architects for a simple reason: “he was, in fact, a hero.” He did not seek personal enrichment but instead worked tirelessly to elevate architecture as an art form. Not only did he produce extraordinary works, but he was also a dedicated mentor who took the education of younger architects seriously. His achievements are dazzling and deserving of celebration, not reduction.
Kimmelman’s says Rudolph has “dropped down the memory chute” – an overdramatic mischaracterization. Equally egregious is the claim that Rudolph’s work catered only to a “niche audience, above all himself.” The demolition of some of his buildings is cited as proof of their impracticality and a suggestion that they deserved such a fate. However, attributing their loss to design flaws or user disregard is an oversimplification that ignores the complexities of preservation.
Kimmelman goes on to argue that Rudolph did not design with the user in mind—citing the Yale Art and Architecture Building—and claims that some of his buildings were impractical, even suggesting that students found his designs “sadistic.” While it’s true that arts students once complained about the size of their studio spaces, extrapolating this as a general indictment of Rudolph’s approach is disingenuous at best (the Arts Department was moved into its own building in 2001). My own experience as a student in this building was quite the opposite. I found the spaces powerful and inspirational, expanding my understanding of what architecture as an art form could achieve. My classmates shared this view.
From the beginning, the Yale Art and Architecture Building was recognized not just by critics, but by the students who inhabited it. My friend Tom Rapp, a member of the first architectural class to occupy Rudolph’s building after transitioning from Louis Kahn’s Yale Art Gallery across the street, often spoke of how inspiring and fantastic the new spaces were. Tom recalled details such as the cargo nets made of silk rope in the drafting studios—a detail that was both beautiful and reflective of thoughtful design, even if not the most durable. The notion that architecture students protested this space is myth: it was beloved and remains so.
Finally, Kimmelman’s narrative of Rudolph’s career as one of “early promise and a sour end” simply doesn’t align with the facts. Rudolph’s later career, particularly his work in Asia—most notably in Hong Kong and Singapore—was marked by impressive accomplishments. Far from drying up, his clientele expanded and evolved, countering the narrative of decline that Kimmelman seems intent on promoting.
