Frank Gehry: Every Building, A Self-Portrait

Frank Gehry was beating the clock and he wanted more time. He had so much to do, and his vision for the future of his adopted hometown Los Angeles—and of the world—was vibrant. This is how his optimism in these dark times prevailed; he was on a mission to transcend the known and to create architecture that was art, alive not inert, capable of inspiring joy and uniting us in awe. His calendar was packed: the opening of the Guggenheim Abu Dhabi next year, the 2028 Olympics in LA, and the realization of his ambitious LA River Master Plan, which is to bring art centers, public parks, and civic amenities to our underserved communities, transforming our city. Frank was so much a part of the fabric of LA, and for so long, that his loss seems to have knocked out our center of gravity. We are wobbling now, without our generous and daring visionary, our international icon, our teacher, our irrepressible agent of change for the good. He was the best of us and our vital GPS beacon.

As one of the most inventive and radical architects of the ages, Frank was consumed with his practice. His close family and deep friendships brought balance and joy. So did his extracurriculars: Frank played in a men’s hockey league until he was in his late seventies, he was an avid sailor, and he was deeply passionate about music. A teacher throughout his life, in 2014 he and Malissa Shriver cofounded Turnaround Arts California to bring art to low-performing elementary and middle school children in the state. He was a prince.

Among Frank’s happiest and most rewarding pursuits outside of architecture was his sculpture practice. He thought like an artist, his friends were nearly all artists and musicians, and he was in heaven creating art for art’s sake, with only himself to serve and satisfy. I had the supreme privilege of working with Frank in this regard at Gagosian for thirteen years.

Frank meant so much to our gallery, especially in Los Angeles, and he remains a pillar of our formidable artist roster. He was a giant, a radical deconstructor and inventor, like Pablo Picasso. Larry and Frank had a robust forty-year friendship and Larry tracked Frank’s practice closely, including his design work. Frank began to make furniture in the late 1960s and Fish and Snake Lamps in the early 1980s, when he participated in a Formica Corporation contest to show off its new laminate. Frank worked with Tomas Osinski, an artist, trusted craftsman, and friend, to help realize the lamps. In 1983 this resulted in the first Frank Gehry Fish Lamps, and they were exhibited at Gagosian in Los Angeles the following year.

The lamps were a watershed for Frank, who had been fascinated by the elegance and dynamism of the fish form for decades but now saw it as an architectural blueprint. He said he recognized “a complete vocabulary that I can draw from” and he never looked back. That first group of Fish Lamps—approximately two dozen—were acquired by luminaries including Agnes Gund, Jasper Johns, Philip Johnson, Victoria Newhouse, and Marcia Weisman. Frank kept good company.

In 2012, the magnificent Frank Gehry–designed Fondation Louis Vuitton was under construction in Paris, and Larry had the good idea of making an exhibition of Frank’s beloved vintage Fish Lamp sculptures in our Paris gallery, which had opened just a year prior. “Paris loves Frank,” Larry had said. I made the call to Frank, he agreed to the show, and I set about locating the lamps we hoped to borrow. The next time I spoke to Frank, I took a flyer and asked if he would consider making a small edition of new Fish Lamps so that we would have something to sell in this exhibition of loaned works. Frank said he would think about it. The next day he said, “I have an idea.” You are very lucky if Frank Gehry has ever said this to you.

Frank had started to conceive of an entirely new body of Fish Lamp sculptures for Paris. The forms were more dynamic, some hanging from the ceiling, some diving, tails up, as big as men. Frank was so exhilarated that the show doubled and we presented this new work in both Paris and Los Angeles in concurrent shows in 2013. I was thrilled: Not only were we getting two shows of new work, but Frank Gehry was about to execute an architectural intervention in our Beverly Hills gallery. Dear Diary! Larry was thrilled too. Frank’s design was an amazement, with intimate darkened rooms to give the magical glowing lamps maximum effect. Immersive installations are common now but Frank was ahead of the curve, and we had lines around the block.

Frank’s art and architecture make you feel your humanity, and this was his intention. Fifty years ago, he wept when he stood in front of the classical Greek bronze Charioteer of Delphi: He had the charged realization that inert material sculpted by an unknown artist in the fifth century BCE could touch him with profound emotional impact across millennia. This became Frank’s North Star principle for his architecture.

Frank was this way in person too. He was warm and put people at ease by telling stories that were funny and usually self-effacing. His mind sparkled and his thinking was fresh. Frank said, “If I knew where I was going, I wouldn’t take the project.”

Frank’s architectural language was the same language he spoke every day. One of love, joy, and compassion. Frank’s emotional and symphonic architecture captured and radiated all of that. Each of his buildings is a self-portrait. The world will miss Frank Gehry terribly, and in LA it will be a sharper pain. Frank said he wanted his buildings to provide comfort. We shall look for it there.