Le Corbusier’s working hours were implacably regular. During
my four years at the atelier, he worked at the rue de Sévres from two in the
afternoon to around seven. The hour of 2:00 P.M., I soon learned, was holy. If
you were a minute late you risked a reprimand. At first Corbu arrived either by
subway (a convenient, direct metro line connected his Michel-Ange- Molitor
station with the atelier’s Sévres-Babylone) or by taxi. Later on he started
driving his old pistachio-green Simca Fiat convertible. In his last years it
would be the taxi again. The process of returning home revealed quite a lot
about Le Corbusier’s character. If the work went well, if he enjoyed his own
sketching and was sure of what he intended to do, then he forgot about the hour
and might be home late for dinner. But if things did not go too well, if he
felt uncertain of his ideas and unhappy with his drawings, then Corbu became
jittery. He would fumble with his wristwatch – a small, oddly feminine
contraption, far too small for his big paw – and finally say, grudgingly,
“C’est difficile, l’architecture,” toss the pencil or charcoal stub on the
drawing, and slink out, as if ashamed to abandon the project and me -- and us --
in a predicament.
During these early August days, I learned quite a bit about
Le Corbusier’s daily routine. His schedule was rigidly organized. I remember
how touched I was by his Boy Scout earnestness: at 6 A.M., gymnastics and . . . painting, a kind of fine-arts calisthenics; at 8 A.M., breakfast. Then Le
Corbusier entered into probably the most creative part of his day. He worked on
the architectural and urbanistic sketches to be transmitted to us in the
afternoon. Outlines of his written work would also be formulated then, along
with some larger parts of the writings. Spiritually nourished by the preceding
hours of physical and visual gymnastics, the hours of painting, he would use
the main morning time for his most inspired conceptualization. A marvelous
phenomenon indeed, this creative routine, implemented with his native Swiss
regularity, harnessing and channeling what is most elusive. Corbu himself
acknowledged the importance of this regimen. “If the generations come”, he
wrote, “attach any importance to my work as an architect, it is to these
unknown labors that one as to attribute its deeper meaning.” It is wrong to
assume, I believe, as [others] have suggested, that Le Corbusier was devoting this time
to the conceptualization of shapes to be applied directly in his architecture;
rather, it was for him a period of concentration during which his imagination,
catalyzed by the activity of painting, could probe most deeply into his
subconscious.
ArchSociety: "Working with Corbusier"