The roof leaks, the mortar’s crumbling, and oak tree roots have worked their way under the foundations. But the bones of the only Frank Lloyd Wright house in the state of Florida are still elegant and the cypress wood inside still the color of amber.
Maenads, suffragettes, sororities, or Brownies—there’s something about organized groups of women that scare men. What on Earth are those girls doing out there in the woods or up in the chapter room, all by themselves?
There he is, the artist as hippie dandy, with his cocked homburg hat, his long black braids, his carved walking stick, tiny white birds on his shoes. Jim Roche picks up the photo, taken around the time in the '70s when he was hanging out at the Paula Cooper Gallery in Chelsea and showing at the Whitney. He says, "Look at him. Is he full of himself? Does he have some ego? Is he thinking he's really something?" And laughs at his young, impossible self.