Kevin Roche’s Legacy: An Amazing Contribution to Architecture

I arrived at Kevin Roche’s office in Connecticut. I immediately embraced the hallucinatory fusion, and cultural disorientation. Connecticut was oozing bucolic heart beats. I have been to Philip Johnsons’ home. I have been to Jens’s Risom’s home. I have been to Yale. But arriving to meet Kevin Roche was like hearing Jack Nicholson’s inimitable voice saying “Welcome” with an Irish brogue.

Millions of movies from my past splashed alarming omens: “The World According to Garp”, “Cider House Rules”, “Overlook Hotel” from “The Shining” and of course the “Oregon State Hospital” from “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”. They all invaded my mind like a cinematic kiss. I breathed. I took baby footsteps. Something unique and surreal waved at me.The film started to roll.

I was escorted into Kevin Roche’s office. He smiled and extended his hand. Had we shared an Irish Pint before? Maybe only Philip Johnson, Eduardo Souto de Moura, Oscar Niemeyer, Richard Rogers, Zaha Hadid and Greg Lynn were better dance partners. I felt a bit of a lilt in my voice. The “wee people” lifted my feet. I was dancing and singing with another architectural design god. My whole lovely entanglement with architecture was standing front and center.

Roche Came From Saarinen

I had photographed Kevin Roche almost twenty years ago. He passed away in 2019. His career as a young intern might have been influenced by his employer Eero Saarinen. Saarinen died before he conquered the planets footprint. For me Saarinen was/is the link between the exciting and the extraordinaire. The intern designer Kevin Roche was in a sublime position to put the finishing touches on Saarinen’s American icons: TWA, St. Louis Gateway Arch, Yale University’s Ingalls Ice Rink and more. One can spend too much time examining the influences an architect associates with his/her post internship work. But nobody can deny that Kevin Roche probably felt a bit like Willy Wonka creating and embracing the Saarinen world.

The architectural rite of passage is remarkable. I hope everyone will forgive me, but sometimes you sense that the rite of passage is akin to Michelangelo’s “Sistine Chapel” rendering of God giving life to Adam. When the younger generation (Jeanne Gang, Bjarke Ingles, David Adjaye) blazes an exciting new trail, the world is lucky. Everyone has a history. Someone: Maybe Rem Koolhaas; Maybe Zaha Hadid; Maybe Frank Gehry gave the next generation life.

Our time in his studio was a bit like Monty Hall yelling to someone in the back of the audience; ”Lets Make A Deal”. Behind curtain number one, number two and number three, Roche seemed to share a past or new designed model. I was riveted not only in the models, but the generosity of time and effort to make my stay so pleasurable. I felt like I was taking part in an advanced architecture class. I was merely waiting for “Molly Malone” to play above the rafters.

One Day with the Israeli Mossad

I have photographed about a dozen of Kevin Roche’s designs. One day I was photographing the Ford Foundation, for a new book; “Portraits of the New Architecture 1”. For days I would return to engage the light. One day, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Two men stood behind me. They identified themselves as Israeli Mossad Agents. Their New York headquarters was across the street. They requested that I not panic. They just wanted to know why did my body form variations of a pretzel every time I took a new picture. I was certainly perplexed and just a bit nervous. I explained that I was trying to create new perspectives on a building that had been photographed a million times. For a split second I thought they were going to interrogate me for some crime. In the end one of them said, ”We thought you were amusing. Certainly a diversion from our daily duties”.

I continued to make dreams with my camera. I couldn’t help thinking that Ford Foundation’s style and so many more of Roche’s and Saarinen’s are best described as “magnanimous” They give so much for the eyes to adore.

Kevin Roche escorted me to the end of his property. He was done for the day. I was exhausted. I knew a friend had been made. Months later I had to break the news that he would not be in my book. I briefly felt like Janis Joplin singing “Break another little piece of my heart…”. I was overruled by the publisher’s savant. I felt our pending friendship was fractured.

I put in so much visual integrity. I put in so much demanding leg work. My mind was swimming in nightly dreamscapes. I cannot explain why my heart breaks. A day with Kevin Roche is not a day to be forgotten.