Bruce Goff

The Bavinger House in Norman, Oklahoma, in 2009 (photo by Rex Brown/Flickr)

A spiraling 1955 house that was considered one of the icons of 20th-century organic modernism has been destroyed. And not just demolished but ripped out of the ground, as Bruce Goff’s Bavinger House in Norman, Oklahoma, had been built right into the state’s red earth. Its corkscrew shape, constructed over several years with artists Nancy and Eugene Bavinger and local University of Oklahoma (OU) students, contained floors lofted on cables above a stone ground embedded with a creek. The whole structure was almost hidden by a grove of blackjack trees.

On April 28, Caleb Slinkard reported for the Norman Transcript that “all that is left of the Bavinger House is an empty clearing.” According to Slinkard, the demolition was confirmed by Bill Scott, president of the Friends of Kebyar, a nonprofit dedicated to the preservation of organic architecture; Scott called the site where the house once stood “scorched earth.” Slinkard added that “multiple calls” to Bob Bavinger — the son of the house’s original owners and its owner at the time of demolition — “were not returned by press time.”

The news had been shared, three days earlier, in the Save Wright forum by Zachary Matthews, who posted an April 17 email from “The Bavinger Boys.” The text reads: “The Bavinger House receives the ‘It’s Gone” award.’” (This is seemingly a reference to the accolades the house received, such as the AIA Twenty-Five Year Award in 1987 and a listing on the National Register of Historic Places in 2001.) A photograph shows a CAT excavator and not much else, the stone, glass, and metal remains of the house all hauled away.

The email showing the demolishment of the Bavinger House, shared on the Save Wright forum (screenshot by the author for Hyperallergic)

Unfortunately, the destruction of the Bavinger House is not surprising. Back in 2011, the home appeared to suffer damage in a storm, and when a crew with News 9 attempted to see the house, they were “greeted with gunfire.” Then, Bob Bavinger told the Norman Transcript that he’d had to “remove the target,” meaning the house, as he thought OU was attempting to get in the way of his own restoration efforts. The status of the house remained something of a mystery (it sat on private property, accessed by a rural road) until last July, when PraireMod reported that it had been contacted by Bob Bavinger’s son, Boz, who claimed to be putting the property up for sale for the price of $1.5 million. An accompanying photograph showed the base of the building mostly intact, although the spire had been snapped off and support cables were mangled.

Interior of the Bavinger House in 2009 (photo by Rex Brown/Flickr) (click to enlarge)

The Bavinger House was “seen by many as the crowing achievement of [Bruce Goff’s] extensive body of work,” wrote Greg LeMaire at ArchDaily in 2011. The following year, I wrote about Goff’s endangered legacy for Hyperallergic; the Bavinger House was still in limbo then, along with several of his other projects. Goff was one of the most creative DIY architects of the 20th century, often repurposing household objects (like pie tins for light fixtures), involving owners in construction, and connecting with natural settings in a tactile way, much like his mentor Frank Lloyd Wright. A 1951 Life magazine article on Goff’s Ford House in Aurora, Illinois, called him “one of the few US architects whom Frank Lloyd Wright considers creative” and said he “scorns houses that are ‘boxes with little holes.’” The Ford House was far from a box — more like a bird cage containing a living space — and like many of Goff’s projects received a mixed reception. The Fords famously put up a sign in their yard, proclaiming, “We don’t like your house either.”

Interior of the Bavinger House in 2009 (photo by Rex Brown/Flickr)

Exterior of the Bavinger House in 2009 (photo by Rex Brown/Flickr)

If you’ve seen a Goff building and are not from the Midwest or Southwest, it was likely the curving Pavilion for Japanese Art at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA), which lets in light through fiberglass panels. I am from Oklahoma and happen to have grown up going to a Bruce Goff church — the 1961 Redeemer Lutheran Church in Bartlesville — marveling at his Space Age–themed 1963 Play Tower, and visiting the elaborate Shin’en Kan home, built between 1956 and 1974. The ethereal blue cullet that often accented his work, appearing gemlike against rough, muted stone; the unexpected angles; the mosaics that seemed ordinary until they caught the sun with incredible radiance — are all familiar to me, and in many ways shaped an appreciation for living with modern architecture that endures today.

The Pavilion for Japanese Art at LACMA, designed by Bruce Goff and completed in 1988 (photo by Chad K/Wikimedia)

Redeemer Lutheran Church, designed by Bruce Goff, as seen in 2012 (photo by Theresa Meier)

But since Goff did some of his most enduring work with private homes, preservation can be precarious. Shin’en Kan, for example, was lost to a 1996 arson that was never solved. Nevertheless, there has been some recent attention that inspires hope. Last year, the 1957 Comer House in Dewey, Oklahoma, was placed on the National Register of Historic Places; it has elegant support cables similar to those of the Bavinger House and was vacant for years, until being purchased in 2012 by a new owner, who worked on its restoration and now hosts private tours. The 1964 Nicol House in Kansas City, likewise, is currently cared for by a private owner who’s been preserving its triangular windows and hexagonal pool. The 1948 Myron Bachman House in Chicago, with its strange peaks in corrugated aluminum and brick, spent two years on the market before finding a new owner last month.

Some of his community spaces have also been restored. In 2014, a newly repainted Play Tower was reinstalled in Bartlesville, after vandalism and decades of decay, while the 1951 Hopewell Baptist Church in Edmond, Oklahoma, has a major restoration campaign underway. When I visited the church in 2011 (the pastor was nice enough to let me in when I stopped by out of curiosity), the shingles were falling off, and the floor was so caved in you couldn’t walk more than a couple of steps. Now it’s been repainted to its original red, with silver on the oil pipes that hold it up (they’re similar to the oil field–sourced material that once supported the Bavinger House).

The Play Tower in Bartlesville, Oklahoma, designed by Bruce Goff and built in 1963, as seen in 2010 (photo by Michael Allen/Flickr)

The Play Tower designed by Bruce Goff following its restoration, as seen in 2014 (photo by Theresa Meier)

Goff stated that with the Bavinger House, he “wanted to do something that had no beginning and no ending,” where life flowed through like water. Bedrooms were positioned on hovering platforms and closed with curtains; inside, the space was as cool as a cave in summer. A 1955 issue of Life magazine featured images of the “most gaped-at new house in the US” and described life in this “55-foot-high oil well pipe inside a round tower”:

A good deal of its ground floor is water. Its rooms are suspended saucers. Its tower sticks out of the trees like the sail of a Chinese junk. It has drawn so many sightseers that the Bavingers now charge $1 a person for the privilege of looking at the house. So far they have collected $4,000.

All of that is gone now, but you can still take a digital tour thanks to this video by Skyline Ink, created for the 2010 exhibition Bruce Goff: A Creative Mind at OU’s Fred Jones Jr. Museum of Art. There’s no reversing the destruction, but hopefully the loss of this distinct piece of architecture will be a reminder to preserve what remains of Goff’s career — which was ultimately about rejecting any preconceived notions of what made a house and finding an organic way of modern living.

The Bavinger House in 2009 (photo by Jones2jy/Wikimedia)

Entrance to the Bavinger House in 2009 (photo by Rex Brown/Flickr)

Detail of the exterior of the Bavinger House in 2009 (photo by Rex Brown/Flickr)

The back of the Bavinger House (photo by Rex Brown/Flickr)

The Riverside Studio (now Tulsa Spotlight Theatre) in Tulsa, Oklahoma, designed by Bruce Goff and built in 1928 (photo by W. R. Oswald/Wikimedia)

The exterior of Hopewell Baptist Church in Edmond, Oklahoma, in 2011 (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

The interior of Hopewell Baptist Church in Edmond, Oklahoma, in 2011 (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

The interior of Hopewell Baptist Church in Edmond, Oklahoma, in 2011 (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

The repainted Hopewell Church still undergoing restoration in 2016 (photo by Theresa Meier)

Bruce Goff’s grave in Graceland Cemetery, Chicago, in 2011 (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

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Allison Meier

Allison C. Meier is a former staff writer for Hyperallergic. Originally from Oklahoma, she has been covering visual culture and overlooked history for print...

14 replies on “An Icon of Midcentury Organic Modern Architecture Is Destroyed”

  1. This is heartbreaking. I hope that more information will come out to help explain what went wrong here.
    Thank you for this post.

        1. Yes, or course. He didn’t do what you would have liked so “something is wrong with his mind.” A truly American statement.

          1. I imagine you’d be happy with destroying Falling Water. Because.

            Your commentary is truly sophomoric, low level snobbery. Fail.


          2. First, we’re not talking about Fallingwater. That is a property that an owner at some point decided to place on the National Register. That makes it part of the public domain. It’s not snobbery at all to expect that a property owner in America be allowed to do with their property as they desire, as long as there is no danger to the public. It’s not a listed property so who is anyone to tell them what to do with it? What’s next, will you tell me what color to paint my house or what model of car to drive? THAT is snobbery!

          3. Come back when you know what you’re talking about little one.

            This is over your head. Have a discussion about destruction of architectural icons and works of art at the community college you attend.

          4. I knew at some point I would threaten your narrow thinking mind and you’d make this discussion personal. You people who want to control the society always do that. You come back when you can have have a grown up discussion.

          5. It appears you’re the narrow minded thinker. Say hi to Donald Trump and Ayn Rand.

            You come back also. All of us “You people” need a good laugh.

          6. The Bavenger home was also on the National Register of historic places. Being on it does not protect the listed place from alteration or destruction.

            Public domain? smh

            There is something wrong with someone who destroys a national treasure.

            You are aware there are many cities across the US that regulate the colors used on homes and businesses – even the type of roofing materials. Personally it makes no difference to me.

            Also feel free to drive any car you wish. There are are lot of 8 year old Toyotas around with some low level schlub driving them – you fit right in, don’t you?

  2. Yes,very devastating. I interviewed Goff at his studio home in KC in 1970 thereabouts and he shared his Klimt Paintings with me. There were three 3 racks of record albums three metal racks in the entire DR. I was astounded.we ta
    Ked about his use of oil field pipe and anthracite coal for structure. Super conversations. Then off to the Leopard lounge just Down the block for food and something to drink. Was a great afternoon. My art history class at Iowa was impressed and had a lot of questions. Hooray!

  3. Private ownership has nothing to do with it, if a property listed on the National Register is destroyed something went wrong from a historical perspective. The owner apparently erected a tarp fence at some point to hide the house and claim that it had already been destroyed even though it was still partially visible, and in the opinion of a local architect familiar with the property it seems as if there had been some intentional damage inflicted:
    This is a shame.

  4. how much frack quake damage is occurring to these BG structures.. Can we expect many to withstand projected 7 richter scale frackquakes. Architects and fans of architecture seem, oblivious to this issue.

  5. What a curious decision to add “ARCHITECT” to his name on his tombstone. The plaque on the door to his office in the afterlife?

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