Family Sections

Dan Hoffman, Architect
Arizona State University
Studio MA
Taransky positions himself both inside and outside of the family drama joining the tradition of artists who seek to construct a broader symbolic meaning out of the fabric of their own, everyday experience. The painter, Max Beckmann, is a relevant example here. Taransky openly cites his work as an influence noting how Beckmann depicts events in his personal life through the use of vigorously rendered icons and gestures set into mythic settings and narratives. The broad scope of this living tradition offers both a personal and accessible mode of interpretation enabling the artist to reflect upon the historic nature of his experience. In his paintings, “Family Portrait”, Beckmann reflects upon the growing tide of fascism in Germany contrasting quiet calm of the home with the claustrophobic horrors of the emerging Nazi regime.
As with Beckmann, the figure plays and important role in Taransky’s work, punctuating his sectional notations as well as organizing the intimate workings of his cabinet like details. Figures are used to animate and thematize these relationships giving the architecture a scale somewhere between that of a room and a piece of furniture. The resulting, dense proximity of the spaces and formal massing can also be compared to the figural choreography found in Beckmann’s paintings where the symbolism of a bodily gesture is used to elaborate a spatial and temporal narrative. Looking at one of Taranky’s models we can feel the full range of bodily expression as forms are delicately balanced upon each other. Like the acrobat at the circus, the compositions play upon our body’s ability to project itself into the object, feeling its lightness and weight and thrilling at our ability to avoid the danger of the fall. It could be said that this silent form of communication is the stuff of which architecture is made, an invitation for the body to project itself into the drama of space and time.
Taransky’s sectional musings offer us a glimpse of the mechanisms within his work, revealing the workings of the household and the vessel within which it is placed. This precarious perch between instinct and knowledge is represented in the delicate balance that holds the family together through all its trials and is also felt in the compositional structure of Taransky’s projects. Here the neoplastic vocabulary is charged by the careful placement of figures that thematize the structural and spatial relationships within each piece. Beams and walls not only support and define spaces but also work to establish a dynamic relationship between the inhabitants. As in the writings of Simone Weil, geometry assumes an ethical role in the reading of the composition. In Gravity and Grace, Weil describes the cross (or right angle) as a lever that mediates the descent of grace from above in order to balance the pull of evil from below. Through the symbol of the cross, geometry acts a cipher that connects bios with cosmos, bodily experience with the ethical framework of the Judeo-Christian tradition. A symbolic reading of geometric forms provides a rich soil of interpretation deepening our understanding of space through the integration temporal and ethical dimensions. Taransky transforms the simple equation of up/down, good/evil into a more complex mechanism representing the paradoxical relationships typical of family life. Within the familial orbit, good and evil are but shades in a complex emotional tableau. For example, one member of the family might see a particular act as a sacrifice for the good the good of the family while others might see the same act as a destructive threat.

In the drawing entitled “Jacob’s Dream” the horizontal embrace of the two figures on the lower quadrant is juxtaposed to the seated figure above whose weight is resting upon a line that passes directly through the necks of the lower pair. The same figure is drawing upon a tablet, the support of which passes through a wall and into a bassinet attended by yet another figure. Is this to be read as a depiction of the daily life of the pair, sleeping at night in their conjugal bed and working during the day in the upper part of the dwelling? Or is this a picture of an illicit coupling occurring beneath the daily activities of the family?

Just as Beckmann’s paintings evoke a fervent vision of European culture between the wars, Taransky’s drawings and projects show us that the memory of home can no longer contain increasingly personalized view of the family that has emerged at the end of this century. No longer functioning within the parameters of a simply defined institution, the family must now be seen as a complex interplay of narratives, each with its own architectural expression.
Taransky views the promise (and danger) of modernism as the ability of an individual to enter into a dialogue with the flow of history through the artistic engagement of the mythic tradition. Inexpensive building techniques have offered architects the opportunity to extend this artistic possibility to the design of the single-family residence. Although professional journals are filled with such designs, one rarely feels that the architects have used their commissions to deepen the emotional and spiritual life of the inhabitants. The American Dream has become more complex. Like shepherds in the high meadow, architects like Taransky are following the dream wherever it leads. It is time that we begin to follow them.