DAISY AMES

The Stanley Tigerman exhibition at the Yale School of Architecture, curated by Emmanuel Petit, is overflowing with theme, order and harmony. This exhibition highlights the eclectic work of Tigerman as he engages various movements throughout his career. It can be argued that some architects do not aim to develop a single idea throughout their career, and it is apparent in this exhibition that Tigerman is one of them. Therefore, it is no mistake that the nature in which Petit displays Tigerman’s work strives for clarity. Emmanuel Petit’s thoughtful exhibition makes Tigerman seem just as thoughtful. During his fifty year career, Tigerman has latched on to Albers’ abstractions, Hejduk’s curves, Mies’ grid, Roche’s boldness, indicating that he has never had the “genius” to invoke a new architecture - few architects do. Unfortunately, architects who simply copy other architects without introducing a personal intellectual basis, seldom produce work of lasting value. However, Petit recognizes this and through the highly articulate organization of the exhibition, he emphasizes Tigerman’s personal “style.” He uses this as a means to justify his arrangement of the exhibit, underlining Tigerman’s changes in architectural style and point of view.

Tigerman’s colorfully checkered paintings are very captivating, the Labadie House drawings are beautiful, and the urban plan for Madrid is dynamic, but his predecessors have done these things. Furthermore, the nature in which they are executed only affirms that Tigerman does not develop their ideas beyond what has already been done. When Tigerman seems to reach beyond rhetoric it is through allegorical cartoons and humor – which by no coincidence is the generator of the exhibition. Petit latches on to this - the most distinguishing characteristic of Tigerman’s career - and uses it as a catalyst to create the spatial organization and circulation for the exhibition. Armed with his own inherent ability (and presumably itching for consistency), Petit tries to establish an understanding of Tigerman’s work, which ironically can only be achieved by letting go of the notion that his work can be analyzed thematically, or in regard to order and harmony. Devoid of an architectural theme, Petit develops a system based on two of Tigerman’s motifs, the grid and the curve. The exhibition is divided into nine different sectors, called clouds - each with its own baby-blue cloud shaped sign hanging above the theme that Tigerman entertains. In juxtaposition to the ethereal nature of the hanging clouds are eight columns that pierce the central gallery space. The clouds and columns speak different languages but appropriately employ the lackadaisical curve and the regimented grid. In a similar way, the curvilinear viewing cases for his drawings alongside the orthogonal model cases further reinforces this tension between grid and curve. The cloud-column combination designates phenomenological space, and the frame-case units designate the physical circulation.

Tigerman’s career is an example of an architect whose fertile mind changes just as quickly as the styles. Unfortunately, he seems to be a victim of fashion, which can prove to be architectural suicide. Thus, I find the exhibition to be not a story of an architect with a vision, but rather a collection of tales, none of which seem fully developed. Tigerman’s ability to draw like Paul Rudolph and paint like Joseph Albers may be enough a excite a client (or a student), but if an architectural rigor is not present, then the skills can be meaningless - requiring dependency on devout critics like Petit to make sense of it all. The exhibitions that are most captivating are the ones that address architectural ideas, regardless of their likeness to others. Value becomes apparent when one can see an artists’ struggle for identity as it relates to their personal background, education, and experiences.