While visiting family in Ireland and England, I finally finished Brendan Gill's, Many Masks: A Life of Frank Lloyd Wright. Wright was, of course, a true American genius but as was noted by one acerbic critic, a bit like PT. Barnum. He was a relentless self-promoter and a bit of a con man in his financial affairs. Perennially in debt, one of his more amusing and self-serving lines was: "Take care of the luxuries first and the necessities will follow." Many Masks is a terrific book, at once gossipy and deeply informative.
Wright could be extremely offensive by just being who he was. He visited President Roosevelt and this is what he said to a friend (loudly) just outside the President's door. " You know Carleton, I've always told you I would rather be Wright than President." And I think he meant it literally, rather than as a pun, although with Wright you could never tell. Then this marvelous boner speaking directly to the President: "You know Franklin, you ought to get up out of that chair and look around at what they are doing to your city here, miles and miles of Ionic and Corinthian columns (which Wright despised)." President Franklin, it should be noted, did not subsequently commission him for any buildings in DC.
Towards the end of the book, Robert Frost's poem, "The Gift of Outright" indicates how Wright, and of course others like him, were at the vanguard of a new story about America.
Such as we were we gave ourselves outright
(The deed of gift was many deeds of war)
To the land vaguely realizing westward,
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced,
Such as she was, such as she would become."
Architects were supposed, in a way, to give us some of the art back that has been lacking in America. Certainly Wright did so but in a most curious manner. Ahead of his time, he walked through doors that have still to be fully opened. He said something, for example, that caught me off guard but that resonates deeply. "You know we have no religion to go with the Declaration of Independence, to go with the sovereignty of the individual." And he was absolutely right. The vague deism of Jefferson and Washington had little power except to remove the old impediments of imperial religion. It is, perhaps, the task of the new age and of those yet unsung to provide the story of America with a new vigor rooted in an epistemology of virtue and vice. Hopefully, it will be a story that reflects on what it really means to be a son or daughter of God. (God doesn't think small and neither should we.)
The Catholicism of Chesterton, perhaps, infused with the wisdom of Yeats beckons (and forgive me for waxing, perhaps, too extravagantly in the direction of hermeneutics). The inoculation of sacramental grace against our ancient reptilian instincts simply allows us to be who we are but there is so much more to do. In the vast profligacy of the heavens, the message of an extraordinary generosity and desire is patterned. God wishes to know Himself completely as other than Himself. This is both our lineage and, so to speak, our job. The comfort that we take from extraordinary lives, such as Wright's, is a testament to the power of the unseen world both within and without. This is an adventure on an epic scale. Not a story just of loss and restoration, or primarily a soteriology of damnation and everlasting life, but an adventure.
"We cannot know truth but we can embody it." --William Butler Yeats