Between Earth and Heaven: The Architecture of John Lautner
Until July 26; The Lighthouse, Glasgow

Have you heard of John Lautner? I must admit I hadn’t, until the international touring exhibition of his work arrived at The Lighthouse. Lautner was an architect working in Los Angeles from the 1930s to the 1980s, and perhaps it’s because he didn’t fit the mould of international modernism, or because his projects were largely private commissions, that he isn’t a household name. But on the evidence of this exhibition, he should be.

Lautner’s buildings were wonderful flights of fancy, inspired by the world around them, and totally different every time. He was an architectural maverick whose draughtsmanship was sorely lacking, but whose ideas were unstoppable. Space became fluid in his hands, insides spilling outside into woods, sea and hills. Walls were done away with; roofs were like birds’ wings, only just settling down to land.

For such a master of light, space and freedom, it’s quite an irony that the exhibition is so dark, cramped and claustrophobic. The contents – sketches, plans, models and specially commissioned silent films by Murray Grigor – are first class. But they just don’t fit into their two floors of The Lighthouse. What results is an unenticing obstacle course, all boxy plinths and corners; a chronological path through is difficult to find, while your eyes struggle to focus in the yellow, dusky light.

Lautner made his name with eye-catching designs for roadside cafés in the 1950s, attracting the disdain of the architectural world. What became known as the Googie style (after one of these cafés) was to inspire the 50s diner in Pulp Fiction, with its larger-than life, poppy feel.

One of Lautner’s houses was also to feature in the James Bond classic, Diamonds Are Forever. Built in 1968, the Elrod House was sunk eight feet down into a rocky outcrop, the natural cliff face co-existing inside the house with the concrete of its walls and radiating, circular ceiling.

This connection with the land was central to Lautner’s work; where others would bulldoze trees to make way for a house, he would build the trees into the structure. His greatest masterpiece was built on the Pacific coast, in Marbrisa, 1973. The moulded, meandering concrete structure is bounded by a watery channel all around its curving edge, which links it seamlessly to the sea beyond. This is not a thing to look at, like so much of 20th century architecture; it is a place to breathe, and a space to move through.

Catrìona Black, Sunday Herald 29.03.09