[Sdpg] The Eye of the Beholder a KPBS produced documentary on James Hubbell, airs Sunday, September 29 at 8 p.m.

[Wesley Roe and Marjorie Lakin Erickson]

The Eye of the Beholder

  Story and Photography by Randy Hoffman
  “Let me describe to you a world we
  are entering, a world where equality is
  seen not as sameness but as
  uniqueness. This is a world where
  matter and energy are understood as
  inseparable and where God is as at
  home in a cup of coffee as in the
  stars.” ­From Architecture of
  Jubilation by James Hubbell, 1974

  It is too easy to call James Hubbell a
  Renaissance Man. Leave that for
  well-heeled dainties with hands too
  clean to pound metal on a clanging
  anvil. Instead, let Hubbell be what he
  is, an artistic visionary, working in
  and of nature with all that it has to
  offer. Stone, clay, iron, water, glass,
  wood, cement or brick, it doesn’t
  matter. Hubbell will find it, shape it,
  and set it free.

  For more than 40 years, from a
  work/live compound in San Diego’s backcountry, Hubbell has directed his
  childhood interest in painting and sculpture to an architectural vision 
that has
  breached the world of straight lines and right angles. His creations test 
dimension,
  inspire wonder and instill introspection. Hundreds of finished works feed 
a hungry
  world from Shelter Island to Vladivostok Russia, taking the form of 
residential,
  institutional and civic installations.

  “What I find interesting is space and light and that type of thing,” 
Hubbell says.
  “I’ve done thousands of watercolors from nature. When I layout a job, I’m 
often
  using the same kind of layout you would find in nature. That’s my world. 
It’s not
  neon lights and parking lots.”

  Walking Hubbell’s property in East County’s Wynola hills creates a 
portfolio of
  sorts that reveals the development of his vision. The living and work 
spaces - eight
  of them - seem to have swelled out of the ground they stand on, taking their
  rightful place among the indigenous manzanita and oak trees. Cement and tile
  rooflines dip and scallop, occasionally tied at the top with a knot of metal,
  sometimes allowed to fall to a dripping point that lingers overhead. Smaller
  sculptures direct attention up chunky stone paths toward deep blue pools, 
or stand
  in quiet agreement with surrounding structures and far off horizons. 
Curvy brick
  walls advance and recede, sensuous tile inlay cools the eye, and colorful 
glass
  designs spray interiors with shifting patterns of light. Like nature 
itself, the work is
  at once disarmingly simple and overwhelmingly complex.

  Hubbell and his wife Anne secured the location in 1958, shortly after 
their wedding.
  With both sets of parents residing in San Diego’s coastal north county, 
Hubbell
  says they needed to gain a little distance “so we wouldn’t have to go to 
dinner all
  the time.” Responding to a young family on the rise, (they would raise 
four boys on
  the property), the Hubbells began scaling learning curves and building 
dreams.

  “This is the first wall I built,” Hubbell tells me as I stand admiring 
the north facing
  construction of what is now his office. (The space was originally the 
family’s first
  home.) Large, stone chunks are gripped by cement, with hefty wood beams
  extending at the top. Smaller stones, flat and lighter in color, string 
through the
  sturdy composition on the horizontal.

  “I wouldn’t trade that time for anything,” Hubbell says when asked about 
those
  fledgling days. “It was about waking up in the morning and saying ‘Oh 
yeah, I’m
  going to do THAT to that wall,’ and then going and doing it. I was 
treating this
  wall almost as a mural. All the stones are from the ground here. We laid 
all the
  stones so the part that was [originally] exposed [to the sun] is on the 
outside, and
  is dark. The part that was underground is on the inside, so it is red. At 
one time,
  there were five of us living here. Of course, they [his children] were 
much smaller
  people then!”

  Over the next 20 years, Hubbell would erect the other seven structures on the
  property, each of them advancing newfound concepts of design and 
construction.
  In the early ‘70s, he began work on separate living quarters for the 
boys, which
  they eventually would refer to as the Bat Cave. The space features a 
tiled bathroom
  with a leaded glass ceiling, a sunken tub and abalone shells cascading 
down the
  walls. The living room floor, set with clay tiles rolled out with a 
rolling pin, was
  completed over a period of eight years.

  “If I do something and it doesn’t seem to work, I try to change it so it 
will, but I
  don’t very often go back and tear things apart,” Hubbell says. “Then I 
incorporate
  what I’ve learned in the next thing. Often I find that things that look 
like mistakes
  actually lead you somewhere you need to go. The mistake, in a sense, is a 
door. I
  think a lot of what I do with my work, and in life, is staying awake and 
watching
  what’s happening. When the ‘music’ changes, put your root in a different 
place.”

  “I don’t really follow the thing that in the beginning there is the 
‘word’, that
  somehow if you can name it, it’s real,” he continues. “I feel that things 
have to do
  with a more organic kind of thing. To me, it’s not so much understanding
  something as sensing the pattern and the rhythm in it to know what has to 
happen
  next. I think you can understand life a little bit better thinking about 
it that way.
  Like if I’m trying to paint the mountain, what I’m trying to do is stand 
somewhere in
  between myself and the mountain. So, I paint the mountain, and the mountain
  paints me. The ‘painting’ is part of that conversation. You’re watching and
  listening to what is happening between you and the mountain and the feelings
  you’re having, and you’re trying to get somewhere where they all kind of 
blend.”

  In more recent years, Hubbell’s attention has veered away from private and
  institutional work to more civic-minded projects. In 1998, an 
introduction to a
  Russian diplomat at a reception in San Diego resulted in the construction 
of a
  public space in Vladivastok. Last year, a similar project was completed 
in China.
  Closer to home, he is involved with the continuing construction of El 
Colegio de
  Esperanza School in Tijuana and Crestview, a 300-acre ecological park 
intended to
  be a living laboratory for area high school students to explore science, 
humanities
  and the arts in the East County community of Crest. Under Hubbell’s 
direction, the
  projects are executed by coalitions of young people, many of them 
architectural
  students of high school and college age, but generally assembled without 
regard to
  previous experience. In Hubbell’s world, inexperience is a valuable tool, 
and the
  effort allows him to teach and nurture concepts he hopes will be carried 
well into
  the future by young, enthusiastic minds.

  “It’s like working with a jazz band that can’t read music and doesn’t 
know how to
  play the instruments,” he says. “But you get certain qualities from what 
they do
  that you could not get if you were in control. It’s a different world. 
And it’s really a
  world that’s very valid. Besides, education, in a lot of cases, kind of 
narrows the
  world. You begin to say you understand it, and when you understand something,
  then you, in a sense, die. You kill the rest of the world. Sooner or 
later, you have to
  trust yourself. That’s really what it’s about.”

  Eye of the Beholder, a KPBS produced documentary on James Hubbell, airs
  Sunday, September 29 at 8 p.m. The program is produced by Marianne Gerdes.