“Louis Sullivan was a sacrifice to the God of Temporal Things by a hard working, pioneering people, too vain of the culture of lies in their heads, over empty, hungry hearts, a heedless people living a hectic life no full hands may ever make worth while \u2013 and who either could not or would not know him.”<\/p>\n
“What is left to us is the least of him \u2013 but it will serve.”<\/p>\n
“Out of the fragments of his dreams that were his buildings \u2013 out of the sense of Architecture as entering a new phase as a plastic<\/em> Art \u2013 great things will yet be born. Every thing he did has some fine quality, was some solution of a difficult problem \u2013 some sorely needed light on practical affairs. Practical? Truly here was a practical man in a radical sense \u2013 rooted in Principle, and as richly gifted as he was impressionable \u2013 as deep-sighted as he was farseeing.”<\/p>\n “The work the master did may die with him \u2013 no great matter. What he represented has lived in spite of all drift \u2013 all friction, all waste, all slip \u2013 since time began for man. In this sense was Louis Sullivan true to tradition \u2013 in this sense will the divine spark, given to him from the deep centre of the universe and to which he held true, be handed on the fresher, more vital, more potent, enriched a little, perhaps much, by the individuality that was his. There is no occasion for deep despair \u2013 although chagrin, frustrated hopes, broken lives and broken promises strew the way with gruesome wreckage. The light that was in him lives \u2013 and will go on \u2013 forever.”<\/p>\n Source: Frank L. Wright, \u201cLouis Henry Sullivan: Beloved Master,\u201d in The Western Architect: A National Journal of Architecture and Allied Art, published in the West, <\/em>June 1924: 66.<\/p>\n Frank Lloyd Wright arrived in Chicago in 1887 \u2013 about 16 years after the Great Fire had destroyed nearly the entire city \u2013 to find work in local firms. Just a few months later, Dankmar Adler and Louis L. Sullivan were looking for a draftsman to help with the plans of The Auditorium. Thrilled by the office, the 19-year-old(1)<\/a> applied, left local architect Joseph L. Silsbee, and joined the firm officially in 1888.(2)<\/a>\u00a0In Genius and Mobocracy<\/em> (1949), Wright reflects on his time at Adler & Sullivan about 60 years later. In the book, he describes the structure of the firm as follows: Adler was \u201cthe big chief\u201d and \u201ca solid block of manhood\u201d, Sullivan the senior\u2019s companion and a young designing partner. The draftsman fulfilled the role of a novice mainly as a \u201cgood pencil\u201d in the latter\u2019s hand.(3)<\/a> Wright cherished both employers, so did they value his obvious talent. Soon he developed especially a youthful affection for Sullivan\u2019s work and style. Former Mister rose to lieber-meister<\/em> (beloved master) in a relationship perceived by Wright as one of a disciple to master. Over time, however \u2013 like it feels inherent to these fickle bonds \u2013 the younger was eager to step further and accepted commissions on the side. The situation culminated in a harsh argument in 1893. Eventually, Wright left in anger to practice on his own.(4)<\/a> Yet after Sullivan died in 1924, he often found words of praise in several written passages for his former master and his masterpieces.<\/p>\n Notes<\/strong> 2.<\/a> Robert McCarter, Frank Lloyd Wright: Ein Leben f\u00fcr die Architektur, <\/em>1st ed. (M\u00fcnchen: Dt. Verl.-Anst, 2010), pp.\u00a027\u201333.<\/p>\n
\n
\n
\n1.<\/a> Quite often, Wright’s time in the office is perceived as a 5-year contract starting in 1888. However, according to his own statements, he signed this contract just about two years after he had joined the firm at 19. In 1888 he was already 21 years old.<\/p>\n