Modern Love

Executive House in Winnipeg, designed by Libling Michener Architects, 1959. Photo Henry Kalen. University of Manitoba Archives & Special Collections.

“It happens all the time,” admits Serena Keshavjee, a professor of art history at the University of Winnipeg and co-curator of a new show on modernism at the Winnipeg Art Gallery. “When I tell people I’m working on an exhibition of modernist architecture, I get a little lecture on how awful it is.”

Manitoba Modernist Architecture 1945-1975, which runs until Oct. 29, is a persuasive rejoinder to those cranky anti-modernists. The elegant archival photographs, architectural drawings and design dioramas in the show do more than document beautiful, functional buildings. They evoke an expansive, upbeat mood.

When it first appeared in the 1920s, Modernism rejected historical styles, relying instead on simplified, often rectilinear shapes, flat roofs, lack of ornamentation and a frank use of industrial materials like structural steel and concrete. Modernist pioneers like Le Corbusier, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and Bauhaus founder Walter Gropius also had an interest in good design for the masses — an ideal that frequently made the masses nervous. For the past 30 years, the general public has often associated modernism with hostile chairs, sterile structures and soulless suburbs.

That reputation is finally being turned around. Modernism’s nay-sayers are being outnumbered by retro real-estate specialists and garage-salers who would murder for Scandinavian teak. For evidence of this societal shift, consider the litmus test of mainstream advertising: homemakers can now be seen Swiffering under mid-century-modern Eames chairs and Febreezing their groovy ranch-style bungalows. Keshavjee attributes the change, in part, to chronological distance. Instead of taking modernism for granted, people are now stepping back and viewing it as a historical period.

“Historical periods come in and out of style,” she points out. “And now it’s modernism’s turn.”

Precious Blood Church in Winnipeg, designed by Gaboury, Lussier and Sigurdson Architects in 1968. Photograph Henry Kalen. University of Manitoba Archives & Special Collections.

Keshavjee and fellow curator Herb Enns, a professor of architecture at the University of Manitoba, hope that photos of such Winnipeg landmarks as Etienne Gaboury’s Precious Blood Church, with its yearning organic spire, or the Winnipeg Clinic — fondly nicknamed “the Jetsons building” because of its jutting fins — will remind Winnipeggers that their city’s rich architectural heritage includes modernism. 

The roots of modernism go deep in the province. The U of M’s School of Architecture was established in 1913. During the modernist period, a forward-thinking dean, John A. Russell, encouraged gifted students to pursue graduate studies in the U.S. under European émigrés like Mies van der Rohe and Gropius. Many of these architects returned to Manitoba to teach and practise.

These are big influences, and the results can be seen in important public projects that benefited from the three levels of centennial funding (federal, provincial and municipal) that flooded the province in the late '60s and early '70s. They range from the wonderfully brutal Manitoba Theatre Centre (1969-70, Number Ten Architectural Group), with its textured concrete, to the almost transparent glass skin of Centennial Hall (1969-72, Moody Moore). Enns and Keshavjee also look at smaller projects in which form and function seem to do a happy dance. (Even the modernist jail cell at the Public Safety Building exhibits the foundations of good design.) The show celebrates the Rat Pack cool of Rae and Jerry’s Steak House, with its red banquettes and dark wood ceiling; the Bridge Drive-In, a breezy, much-loved seasonal ice-cream stand; and a zippy Perth’s Cleaners.

“This is just crazy, euphoric architecture,” Enns says affectionately, pointing to a photo of Perth’s curvy, double-swoosh roofline. “And look at this beautiful lounge, with women waiting for the washing machines to do their thing. It just expresses the ebullience of the period.”

Winnipeg International Air Terminal, designed by Green, Blankstein, Russell and Associates in 1964. Photo Henry Kalen. University of Manitoba Archives & Special Collections.

The movement to recognize and preserve modernist buildings has recently been gaining ground in forums such as Metropolis magazine, which devoted its August issue to the fate of some key mid-century buildings in the U.S. A high-profile case in 2002 involved the presumably mod-positive company IKEA, which partially dismantled the Pirelli building in New Haven, Conn. — designed in 1969 by modernist icon Marcel Breuer — to make way for a parking lot.

The issue is particularly urgent now because buildings have a lifespan, suggests Enns. Many Winnipeg structures of the 1950s and '60s are at the point where decisions have to be made about their future — whether that will involve restoration, adaptive re-use or a date with the wrecking ball. In 2003, Winnipeggers lost the Eaton’s building, a nifty example of the proto-modern Chicago-style department store. On the upside, says Enns, “We just finished a fantastic restoration of the Russell Building, which is the Faculty of Architecture building at the U of M, and a fantastic restoration of the Manitoba Health Services building on Empress [Street].” Both the Russell and the Manitoba Health Services building are featured in the show.

“And we’re all holding our breath about what will happen with the airport,” says Enns, in light of a new complex planned for 2009. A black-and-white photograph of the original Winnipeg airport graces the cover of the exhibition catalogue; the photo was taken by the late Henry Kalen, the city’s pre-eminent architectural photographer of the period. Enns and Keshavjee want to galvanize support for the old airport. Designed in 1964 by the Winnipeg firm GBR, it’s a sleek model of modernism’s International Style.

While it’s unlikely that air travel will ever again be as glamorous as it looks in shots of the '64 airport, there are many aspects of the modernist vision that still seem very, well, modern. Modernism may be a distinct and important historical period; it can also be viewed as a state of mind, an approach to life and design that works just as well today as it did in 1955. The folks at Dwell magazine, who refer to themselves as “nice modernists,” put it this way: “To us the M word connotes an honesty and curiosity about methods and materials, a belief that mass production and beauty are not mutually exclusive, and a certain optimism not just about the future, but the present.”

Enns and Keshavjee reflect this notion by pairing vintage photographs of Winnipeg buildings with current views of the same sites, shot by Vancouver-based Martin Tessler. These images demonstrate how '50s and '60s buildings are being used today, and the clichés of stark, stern modernism are nowhere in sight. The libraries, restaurants and homes on display are accessible, liveable and — gasp! — sometimes even a bit messy.

Mid-century modernists liked to say “the future is now.” Manitoba Modernist Architecture shows that the past is now, too.

Manitoba Modernist Architecture 1945-1975 runs until Oct. 29 at the Winnipeg Art Gallery.

Alison Gillmor is a writer based in Winnipeg.

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