When Frank Lloyd Wright designed Fallingwater, a house considered the greatest achievement of his architectural career, he did not include an ugly plastic bucket in the living room plans.
But the leaks at the Unesco world heritage site in Pennsylvania have become so bad that conservators are resorting to drastic measures to preserve the modernist masterpiece.
“Basically we’re trying to waterproof Fallingwater,” said Sandy Spagnola, 75, a retired art teacher and tour guide, as a persistent drip fills the bucket.
Completed in 1937, Fallingwater was conceived as a weekend retreat for the Kaufmann family, the owners of the largest department store in nearby Pittsburgh at the time, to escape the pollution of the city.
They hired Lloyd Wright, who is widely considered America’s greatest architect, to build their home. He created a series of cantilevered terraces jutting out over a waterfall to encourage the family’s enjoyment of the fresh air. The Kaufmanns, who rejected air-conditioning despite the steamy heat of summer, proved to be the ideal clients.
Combining locally quarried stone with concrete painted in the light ochre of the Pennsylvanian forest, Fallingwater became the ultimate expression of Lloyd Wright’s theory of “organic architecture”.
The house matches the topography of the ground upon which it sits. An enormous boulder pushes up through the middle of the living room.
A kettle can be swung directly into the fireplace during the cold months of winter and a staircase down to the stream provides natural ventilation during the oppressive summer. Guests at Fallingwater have included Frida Kahlo and Albert Einstein.
But for all its tranquility, Fallingwater could never be relied upon to keep its inhabitants dry.
“The house had roof leaks from the very beginning,” said Justin Gunther, the director of Fallingwater. Gunther is responsible for a $7 million refurbishment to banish the leaks once and for all.
While significant progress has been made, Fallingwater is still $1 million short of its fundraising target after three years of construction, meaning visitors are encouraged to donate at the end of every tour.
Lloyd Wright himself, who died in 1959 aged 91, seemed unbothered by water dripping from the ceilings. His preference for flat roofs and clean, horizontal lines meant damp became an unintentional recurring theme in his architecture.
When one client complained about water cascading on to him while he was hosting a dinner party at his home in Wisconsin, Lloyd Wright’s solution, shouted down the phone, was simple: “Well, Hib, why don’t you move your chair?”
“Frank Lloyd Wright would often joke that his architecture was like leaving fine art out in the rain,” Gunther said. “We get lots of snow and lots of rain in western Pennsylvania.”
As part of the renovation at Fallingwater, builders have replaced chunks of rotten concrete, installed impermeable membranes under the roof terraces and injected grout into the wall cavities.
The aim is to waterproof the building for the next several decades. But repairing one leak can often lead to another one appearing elsewhere. Keeping Fallingwater dry has been a never-ending battle since its construction.
The building does not receive any grants from Unesco and is responsible for its own fundraising. Since President Trump returned to the White House, a decline in tourists to the US — particularly from Canada — has threatened its revenue. Last month Trump withdrew the US from Unesco, although this decision will not affect Fallingwater’s world heritage status.
The humid summer in the US has not helped efforts to preserve Lloyd Wright’s architecture but the leakiness at Fallingwater is something architecture buffs are willing to forgive. “He was pushing the boundaries of the traditional ways of building,” Gunther said. “That meant there were always some challenges with keeping the water out.”
George Grylls is the Washington correspondent for The Times of London
