Ernst L. Freud, Domestic Architect: Zuhause in Berlin, at Home in London

Abstract

Throughout his career Ernst L. Freud, the architect-son of Sigmund Freud, mostly worked as a domestic architect and interior designer. Psychoanalytical consulting rooms are the only other sustained area of his practice. This chapter understands Freud’s architectural œuvre as an attempt to create homes (Zuhause) for his clients, for his own family, and for the extended Freud family, which included professional and private spaces for colleagues of Sigmund Freud. Before 1933, the architect’s peripatetic life already posed questions about the where of one’s home and what, architecturally speaking, constitutes a home? Once in England, Freud occasionally designed new homes for former Berlin clients, who had also managed to escape to Great Britain, exiled psychoanalysts, and the larger Freud family, who all struggled with the practical consequences of being an émigré and had to cope with the loss of friends, homes, and ways of life. The exile experience made Freud’s architectural focus on the home even more pressing and relevant; a challenge to which the architect responded by inserting into his designs memories and allusions to German and Austrian modern architecture.

Among the hundreds of unidentified and undated sketches and drawings in the archives of the architect Ernst L. Freud exists one that shows the setting of a psychoanalytical consulting room (Fig. 3.1). The couch stands parallel to the wall between two bookshelves, with a cubic upholstered chair with armrests and backrest of level height positioned next to the couch’s raised end on which a patient’s head would rest. Above the couch a framed picture in landscape format is suspended from a picture rail, the second piece of art, again in landscape format, hangs above the headrest of the couch, and a third piece, in portrait format, above the chair. The bookshelves are wide and not overly tall; they reach just a little over half of the height of the room. The open shelves are filled with books, loosely arranged as to leave room for new acquisitions and other objects such as, for example, a bowl on one shelf and some spherical object on another.

Fig. 3.1

(Photograph: RIBA Collections)

Ernst L. Freud. Design sketch for a consulting couch and psychoanalyst’s chair placed between two bookshelves, possible for 20 Maresfield Gardens, London, not dated

A 1935 photograph shows Ernst Freud at his desk inside the new family home in London (Fig. 3.2). Behind him, a wall unit of open shelves and storage cupboards accommodates books, art pieces, and decorative objects, and surrounds a small built-in fireplace. To the other side of the desk stands a chair for visitors. A coffee table and some oriental rugs on top of a wall-to-wall sisal carpet complete the visible part of the living room-cum-office that looks out through a steel-framed glass window and a glass door to the garden of the lot in St. John’s Wood Terrace.

Fig. 3.2

(Photograph: RIBA Collections)

Ernst L. Freud, at the desk of his study inside the living room-cum-office of his London home, 1935

The two images illustrate memories of spaces and rooms that Sigmund Freud and Ernst Freud lost when National Socialism had forced them and their families into exile. They also illustrate Ernst Freud envisioning interiors that would make up for the lost spaces. And, they illustrate the mainstay of Freud’s architectural practice in both Berlin from 1920 to 1933, and in London after that. Throughout his career, Freud mostly worked as a domestic architect and interior designer. Psychoanalytical consulting rooms were the only other sustained area of his practice; indeed, Freud was one of, if not the first architect ever to design such rooms. The long list of executed works by Ernst Freud and the scope of his surviving archive illustrate his successful career as a domestic architect. How his architectural designs created notions of home (Zuhause) this chapter discusses by analyzing selected examples of Freud’s designs in Berlin and London. Most, but not all of the examples are works for Ernst Freud’s family, the wider Freud family, and the extended psychoanalytical family of colleagues and professional friends of his father.

Embedding Memories in Interior Designs

The drawing of the consulting room and the photograph of Freud’s London living room-cum-office provide important cues as to how Freud aimed at embedding recollections and memories of his clients in an interior while also inserting his architectural imagination that envisioned his designs as modern. The undated sketch presumably shows Ernst Freud’s idea for his father’s consulting room as it was to be recreated in 20 Maresfield Gardens, London, in 1938 when his parents were forced to flee Nazi-occupied Vienna. Ernst Freud arranged chair and couch exactly as they had been placed to each other in the Viennese consulting room since 1934.¹ The couch is similar to the one Freud had been using in Vienna, and the format of the artwork above it recalls the Abu Simbel print that hung above it in Vienna. At the same time, the imaginative mind and, accordingly, the ordering hand of the architect can be traced all over the drawing. The symmetrical positioning of the two shelves contains the asymmetry of the functional placement of couch and chair, while the carefully edited knowledge represented by the books restrains from spilling over into the rest of the room the rambling thoughts of the freely associating patient. The hanging of the artwork is coordinated with the furniture placed below along the wall, and the height of the shelves aligns with the upper edge of the frame of the largest piece of art.

A combination of accurate evocations of past interiors with the ordering eyes of an architect aiming at contemporary architectural ideas also underpinned the design of Freud’s London home. The chairs at the desk come from the family apartment in Berlin. The wall unit is not from that apartment but was designed by Freud for the Berlin apartment of Gustav Krojanker, a Zionist friend since mutual student days in Munich.² A fireplace surrounded by wall-to-wall bookshelves the Freuds had already enjoyed in Berlin; indeed, the fireplace screen in the London room is from the Berlin apartment (Fig. 3.3). The portrait bust of Lucie Freud (née Brasch, 1896–1989), Freud’s wife, which watches over Ernst Freud from on one of the shelves behind the desk, was sculpted by the artist Joachim Karsch in Berlin in 1929.

Fig. 3.3

(Photograph: Canadian Centre for Architecture)

Ernst L. Freud. Chairs, bookshelves and fireplace in the office inside the family apartment, Regentenstraße 23, Berlin, as published in Die Pyramide, August 1928 (Berlin: Sieben Stäbe)

The interior design of the London house also illustrates Freud’s ideas about a modern home in the mid-1930s. The built-in unit creates a new vertical surface plane in front of the original wall with its pronounced recesses; only the new fireplace projects forward. Elsewhere in the house Freud removed all fireplaces and chimney flutes in order to gain space, thus demonstrating the claim that “the idea of the house centred around the hearth” was no longer valid that he had made when lecturing on “Modern Architecture in England?” at the time he was designing his exile home.³

Finally, the interior draws on Freud’s detailed knowledge of earlier Viennese modern architecture. The height of the wall unit continued as a unifying line around the room in the form of a small wooden profile. Above the window and door to the garden, the profile hid a curtain rail; once the curtains were drawn, they would form a vertical surface of soft fabric that helped to transform the room into a cubic interior which created the impression of a box that had been inserted into the existing space. Freud’s understanding of the interior as a space and, accordingly, as a design task that was tangibly separate, even if not entirely independent from the shell of a building harks back to ideas of the Viennese modernist architect and cultural critic Adolf Loos.

While Freud studied architecture at the Technische Hochschule Wien (College of Technology), today Technische Universität Wien, from 1911–1913, he also attended lectures and site visits of Adolf Loos’ newly founded private Bauschule. During that period Loos lectured on the “civilized home” of the bourgeoisie, a topic that reverberated through Freud’s œuvre for his entire professional life.⁴ Freud’s friend and fellow architecture student Felix Augenfeld characterized Freud as being “strongly influenced by Loos” but, most importantly, pointed out as well that Freud was “not a very conscious participant or fanatic disciple” of the Bauschule.⁵

Even the photograph showing Freud at his desk in his study corner of the living room refers back to life in pre-First-World-War Vienna where Max Pollak produced in 1914 an etching of Sigmund Freud at his desk in his study. Pollak zoomed in on Freud’s pair of eyes which looks out straight into the distance with his hands holding a fountain pen while resting on a manuscript. The ancient statuettes that Freud aligned in front of him stare passed him into the distance; psychoanalysis is depicted as a triangular relationship between history and memories, the written word, and the human mind. Ernst Freud was photographed from further away showing the man and his trade in the form of the interior and furniture that he had designed. The images of two generations of Freuds at their desks surrounded by the paraphernalia of their professions—manuscripts, antique statuettes, writing tools, and drawings supplies—neatly illustrate as well the type of bourgeois clients that mostly commissioned designs from Ernst Freud.

Creating Homes in Vienna and Berlin

Sigmund Freud could have been one of these clients as early as 1923 when Ernst Freud suggested remodeling the family home in Vienna’s Berggasse. The main goal then was to improve the family apartment and the cramped and crooked spaces that constituted in the adjacent apartment Sigmund Freud’s consulting room, office, anteroom, and affiliated spaces. Anna Freud bitterly complained about this attempt at modernizing the family home:

In the short time he [Ernst Freud] was here, he wanted to make all sorts of improvements in order to demonstrate to all of us what we should do in an improved manner. […] But I believe that he is wrong. Because I live here, I know that everything came about somehow over time according to the essence of the humans around us, and I orient myself accordingly.⁶

Anna Freud certainly misread her brothers’ intentions when she alleged that his proposed functional improvements would precisely instruct the inhabitants how to go about their domestic life. Usually, Ernst Freud’s architectural designs evolved around a deep respect for the habits that shaped the habitations of his clients and, accordingly, formed the basis of his architectural improvements or new designs.

Even if Ernst Freud lived by then in Berlin, one of Germany’s centers of architectural modernism, his approaches to design and architectural improvements were not identical with that Germanic functionalism that Viennese circles often criticized as pithy and radical without delivering practical, ideal, or even workable solutions. The Austrian architect Josef Frank, for example, insisted that above and beyond quantifiable needs, a human being dwells by “a certain measure of sentimentality” that requires architects to design “sentimental surroundings” allowing for “superfluous, perfunctory activity that extends beyond the necessary.”⁷

The Freud family apartment in Berlin-Tiergarten exemplifies Freud’s take on a modern interior.⁸ Located in Regentenstraße 23, the Freuds lived there from 1924 to 1932 when they moved into a new apartment. In 1928 the interior of the apartment was published in an architectural magazine as one of three contemporary upper-middle-class homes. Sandwiched between Le Corbusier and Pierre Jeanneret’s Villa Stein in Garches, France, and the extensive remodel of the historical English country house Northease in Rodmell, Sussex, Freud’s interior occupied a cozy middle ground between a radical modernism and traditionalism.⁹ Freud designed all the furniture and built-ins for the apartment.

In Freud’s office, the desk and chair establish a subtle dialogue with contemporary modernist furniture and stylistic ideas. The chair is constructed from L-shaped, partially cantilevered wooden profiles. It honestly displays the structure, foregoes ornament, and minimizes the materials needed, but without aiming at those artistic extremes that transformed into abstract pieces of sculptures, for example, Gerrit Rietveld’s Red-Blue chair (1918). The components of that chair point beyond their physical junctions toward modernist ideas about space and art. Freud’s chair does not protrude into such lofty realms; it is modern, presumably comfortable, but does not signify modernism.

Freud’s friend Augenfeld identified as “true modernity” approaches to interiors and architecture that aimed at “incredible comfort”; created furniture that was “silent witness” to all glances, words, and activities happening in the spaces around them; and were not concerned whether a designer or architect was even known to the inhabitants or anybody else; remarks that fit Freud’s works particularly well.¹⁰

Designing Psychoanalytical Consulting Rooms

Coincidentally, Freud’s various interiors for psychoanalytical consulting rooms have been for many decades his least-known designs most likely because of psychoanalysis’s respect for privacy when it came to the where and the how of therapeutic sessions. The consulting rooms are also the one area where Freud challenged established spatial conventions concerning the setting of psychoanalysis. The rather brief existence of psychoanalytical consulting rooms since Sigmund Freud’s invention of psychoanalysis suggests to characterize more accurately Ernst Freud’s contribution to the design history of this type of room as defining rather than overthrowing spatial arrangements.

In Berlin, Ernst Freud created psychoanalytical consulting rooms for Karl Abraham (1920), Sandor Rado (1927), and René Spitz (1928–1929). Rado and Spitz’s rooms were part of large interiors for private dwellings, details about Abraham’s consulting room are not known. For the psychoanalyst Max Eitingon Freud remodeled two floors of a townhouse (1921); it is not known whether a consulting room was included. From 1925 to 1926, Freud also designed a private house including a consulting room for Hans Lampl and Jeanne (Adriana) Lampl-de Groot, two followers of Sigmund Freud who had moved to Berlin where they settled in Berlin-Grunewald.

Chronologically, Freud’s designs for private home and apartments that incorporated a psychoanalytical consulting room precede the “praxis-apartments” that the Viennese architect Ernst Plischke designed from approximately 1930 to 1931 onwards when he, allegedly, invented the combination of a medical doctor or psychoanalyst’s consulting room and private home.¹¹ Regardless, Freud translated into deliberately designed apartments or houses the combination of a private home and psychoanalytical consulting room that Sigmund Freud had established when renting two adjacent apartments in Berggasse.

The Lampl-de Groot house is probably the best example of an Ernst-Freudian praxis-home that combined a psychoanalytical consulting room with a private home. The detached home’s stepped silhouette, the tight, upright cubic volume, and Freud’s intention to contain all rooms within an almost square footprint, recall domestic architecture by Loos like, for example, the unrealized Moissi house (1923) and, even more, the Rufer house (1922) in Vienna.¹² Inside, the consulting room, a waiting room, living and dining rooms, and a kitchen were all on the lower floor. Behind the main entrance, Freud installed a hall from which five doors opened into the cloakroom, waiting room, consulting room-cum-study, living quarters, and, a stair hall, respectively. Thus, the professional quarters were separated from the private one, but at the price of an entrance hall that did not convey the impression that one had entered a private home.

None of the Ernst Freud-designed private consulting rooms in Berlin was photographed, another consequence of Sigmund Freud’s exemplary privacy; after all, the primeval consulting room was recorded only when the older Freud was forced to flee Austria. Contemporary photographs, however, exist of Freud-designed consulting rooms for two psychoanalytical clinics in Berlin. Freud designed the interior of the Policlinic for Psychoanalytical Treatment in 1920 and again in 1928 when it moved to new premises. The later rooms are illustrated in a Festschrift published to coincide with the policlinic’s tenth anniversary.¹³ In 1927, Freud designed the interior of Ernst Simmel’s Psychoanalytical Clinic Sanatorium Schloß Tegel, a large project that comprised numerous interiors, including several psychoanalytical consulting rooms. Photographs and written descriptions of Freud’s interiors were included in a brochure advertising the clinic’s offerings of stationary psychoanalysis to wealthy, paying patients, making this one of the earliest examples where the physical setting of psychoanalysis was declared to be essential to the therapeutic effort.¹⁴

Sigmund Freud’s consulting room and adjacent office were personal, individualized spaces filled with antiques, artworks, books, a desk, and the couch and chair. These objects had meaning for Freud and, presumably, also acquired meaning for regular patients, even if this was unintended. Aesthetically, however, the rooms represented the worst nineteenth-century aesthetic excesses as they were cluttered with dust-collecting artifices and soft surfaces susceptible to impressions the moment someone sat down on them.

The 1928 consulting rooms of the Berlin policlinic were cleansed of any clutter. The furnishing was reduced to a couch, a comfort chair for the analyst, an occasional writing desk with a chair, a shelf, and perhaps a portrait of Sigmund Freud on the wall. The neutral, even impersonal interiors responded to the use of the rooms by varying analysts and clients; their clean design suggested professionalism rather than individualism.

The consulting rooms for the Sanatorium Schloß Tegel fundamentally changed the spatial setting of psychoanalysis; presumably Ernst Freud developed their design following instructions by Simmel. Sigmund Freud preferred to sit discreetly behind the patient and perpendicular to the couch that was placed, furthermore, alongside a protective wall. In the sanatorium, the couch projected into the room with the psychoanalyst sitting slightly behind and opposite of it so that the patient always remained in sight. While the room setting was thus innovative, the couch which Freud conceived was derived from his father’s couch. Ernst Freud designed a head end that bent steeply upwards similar to the original couch in Vienna. Freud modified the couch by adding a cylindrical footrest with storage space underneath, and modernized it by covering its surface in a single soft fabric, thereby doing away with the signature rug thrown over the Vienna couch. The professional, spartan appearance again hints at various psychoanalysts using the rooms during a day or a week.

The promotional brochure illustrates some of Freud’s interiors, in particular, a single bedroom, a double bedroom, and a treatment room. The private rooms show fully developed Freudian domestic interiors, even though they were located in an institutional setting. The linoleum floors are covered with rugs with geometric patterns. All furniture is made from wood with the occasional cane filling and is composed of clean geometric forms. The furnishing program comprises beds, nightstands, day bed, desk and chair, sheers to filter the light, and curtains to keep it out entirely. The interiors emphasize “the impression of comfortable living space and workroom” thanks to “the inconspicuous posture of the form of the bed.” The description continues:

A simple rectilinearity of the architectonics of the furniture combines their colors and the large, differently hued expanses of walls, ceilings, and curtains into a comforting, harmonious overall picture. Accordingly, each room is tuned into its own color, while also integrated into the atmosphere that results from the yellow and brown of the foyer and the corridors’ mixed daylight that streams freely everywhere.¹⁵

Both colors and straight geometrical forms of the furniture are considered as contributing to the therapeutic process. The latter is furthermore supported by the interiors of the private rooms that simulate at once living rooms, studies, and home offices—domestic spaces that thrive on activity—rather than bedroom settings more typically associated with passive forms of relaxation or even hospital environments.

An Architect in Exile

The Freud family fled Berlin late in 1933, during the early months of National Socialist rule. In London, Freud’s exile career began with a large project when in 1933 Melanie Klein commissioned a redesign of her house in St. John’s Wood including a consulting room complete with couch and chair.¹⁶ Freud divided an L-shaped drawing-room into a smaller waiting room and the consulting-cum-living room. The latter was furnished with bulky comfort chairs, a sofa, and various Freud-designed tables. The consulting couch stood next to a single comfort chair; the only known photograph of the room has been cropped to keep the couch invisible. Other elements of Freud’s refurbishment, for example, a glass-plated front door and a striking copper surround for a fireplace lit by two brass lamp holders, gave the Klein home a distinctly modern character.

Commissions from other psychoanalysts followed, for example, a project by Kate (Käthe) Friedlaender and Hilde Maas for a psychoanalytical sanatorium in London.¹⁷ When that project failed in 1934, Friedlaender opened a private psychoanalytical practice for which Freud designed the consulting room.¹⁸ Among the British psychoanalysts who commissioned works from Freud were Ernest Jones and John Rickman; for both Freud refurbished cottages outside London, although it is not clear whether these included consulting rooms.

Fellow refugees who had been Freud clients in Berlin again sought his advice once in exile. For example, Freud reused in the exile home of the art historian Wolfgang Herrmann and Annie Herrmann (née Marx) furniture that he had designed in 1927 for the interior for the couple’s new house in Berlin-Dahlem.¹⁹ Another commission that required reusing Berlin furniture in a London home came from Richard Hamburger, a professor at the Charité hospital in Berlin and owner of the private Gartenhausklinik for children with waiting room furniture designed by Freud. When forced into exile, Hamburger exported his tubular steel medical furniture, the Freud-designed furniture, and even the cork flooring to England where Freud reassembled a new consulting room inside Hamburger’s new private home.²⁰

The detached house and the interior for Dr. Adolf and Heide Marx, the parents of Annie Herrmann, is a particularly interesting example of Freud creating a home in exile. The 1935 project aimed at creating a modern design that would appeal to the client and to the wider London public from which Freud was hoping to receive commissions. The clients wanted a home that could accommodate their collection of German expressionist and other modern paintings and existing furniture which they could take with them when they left Berlin, where Dr. Marx had been a banker, possibly as early as 1932.

Contemporary photographs show the walls of the dining and sitting rooms, which face Hampstead Heath, hung with paintings and the spaces filled with heirloom furniture.²¹ Freud arranged the artwork and furniture into small ensembles. Setting these clusters off against lightly painted walls, they became reference points of familiar objects in the still-unfamiliar surroundings of the new home, understood in the sense of a Zuhause, the physical setting in a house, and of a Heimat in England.

A New Berggasse Quarter in London

As the first family member who had fled to England in 1933, Freud was consulted by subsequently arriving relatives regarding accommodation and even investments into real estate. With Ernst Freud’s help, a London Berggasse quarter grew up around 20 Maresfield Gardens, the final home of Sigmund and Martha Freud, for some years during and after the Second World War. Ernst Freud’s uncle Alexander Freud purchased 4 Maresfield Gardens in 1939 and Freud planned to divide the townhouse into rental flats.²² Ernst and Lucie Freud temporarily moved into the adjacent building at 2 Maresfield Gardens in early 1940, and during 1941 Anna Freud and Dorothy Burlingham opened nearby various premises of the Hampstead War Nurseries²³; in almost all cases Freud was called upon to adjust the buildings to their new purpose.

More family properties were nearby in Belsize Park Gardens where Lucie Freud’s sister Gerda Mosse owned number 25, a townhouse which accommodated during the war staff from the Hampstead War Nurseries.²⁴ Townhouse number 1 in the same street was mutually owned by Gerda Mosse, Ernst Freud, and a Mrs. Böhm. Freud converted the two townhouses into small rental apartments and thus helped Jewish émigrés, who cherished and, in exile, even clung to their middle-class background to live in bedsits and small apartments in “more or less ‘bourgeois’ neighborhoods” in London that reminded them of “German middle class residential districts, such as Berlin’s Grünewald [sic] and Tiergarten.”²⁵ Ernst Freud’s sister, Mathilde Hollitscher, extended the new Berggasse quarter to the north of Maresfield Gardens, where she owned property in Linfield Gardens.²⁶ And his son Lucian Freud pushed the borders to the south when he rented 28 Clifton Hill around 1948.

32 St. John’s Wood Terrace, inside of which Ernst Freud had been photographed in 1935, was another part of the English Berggasse quarter (Fig. 3.2). The house was remodeled with an eye to spatial and economic efficiency.²⁷ Furniture from the Berlin apartments was reinstalled in an intricate three-dimensional puzzle of built-in cupboards, wardrobes, and storage spaces on the upper parts of the interior walls.²⁸ Purpose-designed furniture and antique pieces created an interior that the exiled writer Arnold Zweig called “charming in its simple dignity and modernity.”²⁹

The heart of the new Berggasse quarter, however, was 20 Maresfield Gardens. Ernst Freud adjusted the detached house to the needs of his parents by “making two rooms into one or the other way around, sheer witches’ sorcery translated into architectural terms.”³⁰ Inside the house, Ernst Freud could finally create his version of a consulting room and office for his father. A detailed recreation of the Viennese rooms proved to be impossible to achieve as study and consulting room now occupied a single, though large room. Equally unrealized remained Freud’s earlier discussed design sketch (Fig. 3.1) for an improved consulting room of his father, most likely because of the rescue of many furniture from the Vienna home, personal possessions, and the collection of antique statues which provided sufficient familiar objects to recreate the atmosphere of the Viennese rooms. Accordingly, the memory of the lost Viennese rooms took priority over Ernst Freud’s intentions to aesthetically and functionally improve his father’s professional quarters.

One wall of the new room was covered by a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. Integrated into it were two Biedermeier display cabinets that had already in Vienna accommodated numerous antiquities. Overall, the room was reminiscent of the office and the consulting room in Vienna, but not an accurate copy. Precisely recreated, however, was the placement of couch and chair, the spatial setting of psychoanalysis. The couch stood once again parallel to a protective wall, and the chair was placed perpendicular behind it. In short, the London consulting room-cum-study mimicked the Viennese setting while also exemplifying the transferability of the most intimate spatial setting of psychoanalysis into very different architectural spaces, even in a different country.

The exile in England dramatically reduced the scope and extent of Freud’s architectural commissions, but it was in the aftermath of the Second World War that his work as a domestic architect eventually came to an end. With Great Britain embarking on creating a socialist welfare state, including large-scale social housing estates, Freud’s focus on individual domestic commissions was increasingly out of sync with the modern period. Aware of the fact that new times required new architecture, Freud participated in 1951 in the competition for the Golden Lane Housing estate in London to which end he employed the young Canadian architect Arthur Erickson. Alas, Freud and Erickson’s contribution remains unknown because of the loss of almost all competition entries.

Freud spent the next decades designing, and occasionally also building, prestigious non-domestic commissions, for example, a design for the Mermaid Theatre for Lord Bernard Miles (St. Johns Wood, 1951, unbuilt) and the British Synagogue at the London Jewish Hospital (Stepney Green, 1958, demolished). Freud also continued working for family members and friends, refurbishing, for example, existing cottages and designing new ones in Walberswick, Suffolk, a small seaside village where Ernst and Lucie Freud had owned a cottage since 1937. The coastline near the village evokes memories of the German Baltic Sea where the Freud’s once possessed a cottage on the island of Hiddensee.

Even later in life, Ernst Freud returned to his family roots in Vienna when he (and Lucie Freud) began editing his father’s writings. The subject matter of Freud’s daily work thus changed from designing houses to editing texts. But a desk surrounded by bookshelves, fireplace, comfort chairs, and artworks remained as central to Freud’s notion of a home as it had been to his father and many other of his clients, especially once exile had forced them to live abroad, away from their Zuhause.

Notes

• 1. Hearing difficulties forced Freud in 1934 “to re-verse the position of his couch and chair to hear his patients” with his left ear (Michael Molnar (ed. and trans.), The Diary of Sigmund Freud 1929–1939: A Record of the Final Decade [London: Freud Museum Publications, 1992], p. 234).

• 2. Krojanker commissioned an interior for his apartment when he took up a position as a director at the Jüdischer Verlag publishing house in Berlin. From correspondence we know that but not why Freud took the shelves from Krojanker’s apartment to London (Letter Ernst Freud to Lucie Freud, October 14, 1933 [Collection Esther Freud]).

• 3. Letter Marshall McLuhan to Elise, Herbert, and Maurice McLuhan, February 27, 1935 (Matie Molinaro, Corinne McLuhan, and William Toye (eds.), Letters of Marshall McLuhan (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987), pp. 62–63).

• 4. Quoted from Burkhardt Rukschcio and Roland Schachel, Adolf Loos: Leben und Werk (Vienna: Residenz, 1982), p. 169, my translation.

• 5. Felix Augenfeld, ‘Erinnerungen an Adolf Loos,’ in: Bauwelt 72 (1981): 1907, my translation. The chronology of Freud’s studies in Vienna and Munich is important when assessing Loos’s influence. Freud could attend Bauschule events only during his second year of studies in Vienna from fall 1912 to summer 1913. When the Bauschule entered its second year, Freud was already at TH Munich where he completed his studies in April 1919, after his military service during the First World War.

• 6. Letter Anna Freud to Lou Andreas-Salomé, May 10, 1923 (D. A. Rothe and I. Weber (eds.), ‘… als käm ich heim zu Vater und Schwester’ Lou Andreas-Salomé—Anna Freud Briefwechsel 1919–1937, 2 vols. (Göttingen: Wallstein Verlag, 2001) vol. 1, pp. 184–85, here p. 185, my translation).

• 7. Josef Frank, ‘Der Gschnas fürs G’mut and der Gschnas als Problem,’ in: Deutscher Werkbund, Bau und Wohnung (Stuttgart: Akad. Verlag Dr. Fr. Wedekind & Co., 1927), pp. 48–57, here cited from Wilfried Wang’s translation, ‘Flippancy as the Comfort of the Soul and as Problem,’ in: 9H 3 (1982): pp. 5–6.

• 8. For all buildings and projects designed by Ernst Freud that are discussed in this chapter please consult the images and the selected list of works in Volker M. Welter, Ernst L. Freud, Architect: The Case of the Modern Bourgeois Home (Oxford: Berghahn Books, 2012).

• 9. Die Pyramide 15 (August 1928): pp. 231–57.

• 10. Felix Augenfeld, ‘Wahre Modernität,’ in: Innen-Dekoration 40 (May 1929): p. 216.

• 11. Eva B. Ottilinger, ‘Ernst Plischkes Wiener Wohnung und das Beziehungsgeflecht zwischen den AuftraggeberInnen [sic],’ in: Elan Shapira (ed.), Design Dialogue: Jews, Culture and Viennese Modernism (Vienna: Böhlau Verlag, 2018), pp. 413–26, here p. 413.

• 12. Max Risselada, ‘Documentation of 16 Houses,’ in: Max Risselada (ed.), Raumplan versus Plan Libre: Adolf Loos and Le Corbusier, 1919–1930 (Delft: Delft University Press, 1991), pp. 78–134, here pp. 83–85.

• 13. Deutsche Psychoanalytische Gesellschaft (ed.), Zehn Jahre Berliner Psychoanalytisches Institute (Poliklinik und Lehranstalt) (Vienna: Psychoanalytischer Verlag, 1930).

• 14. Anonymous, Sanatorium Schloß Tegel Psychoanalytische Klink Berlin Tegel (n. l.: n. p., 1927).

• 15. Anonymous, Sanatorium Schloß Tegel, pp. 13–14, my translation.

• 16. Sometime before her death, Klein gave the chair and the couch to the psychoanalyst Donald Meltzer (1922–2004) (Conversations with Donald Meltzer, Oxford, October 2002). Meltzer still used both pieces in his home in Oxford in late 2002; it is not known what happened to the Ernst Freud-designed couch after his death in 2004. Attempts to contact the Donald Meltzer Psychoanalytic Atelier (www.psa-atelier.org) and the Donald Meltzer Development Fund have remained without response.

• 17. Letters Ernst Freud to Lucie Freud, July 12, 1933; March 13, 14, and 22, 1934; April 9 and 11, 1934 (Collection Esther Freud).

• 18. E-mail conversation with Gerda Flöckinger CBE, November 2006 to January 2007.

• 19. Letter Ernst Freud to Lucie Freud, October 19, 1933 (Collection Esther Freud). Correspondence Frank Herrmann, London, with the author, July 17, 2001 and August 14, 2002. Conversation with Harry Weinberger, Leamington Spa, October 18, 2002.

• 20. Letters Michael Hamburger to the author, July 31, 2002, August 10, 2002, and October 8, 2002.

• 21. Correspondence Frank Herrmann, London, with the author, August 14, 2002. Conversation with H. Weinberger, Leamington Spa, October 18, 2002.

• 22. Note from Alexander Freud and Ernst Freud, October 13, 1939 (Washington, DC, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, folder Ernst Freud/Lucie Freud, 1938–53, box 1, Alexander and Sophie Freud papers).

• 23. Anna Freud with Dorothy Burlingham, Infants without Families: Reports on the Hampstead Nurseries 1939–1945 (New York: International University Press, 1973), p. xxiii.

• 24. Freud, Infants without Families, pp. 28–29.

• 25. Lori Gemeiner Bihler, Cities of Refuge: German Jews in London and New York, 1935–1945 (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2018), p. 23.

• 26. Letter Mathilde Hollitscher to Harry Freud, October 22, 1950 (Washington, DC, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, folder Mathilde Hollitscher, box 7, Harry Freud papers).

• 27. Noel L. Carrington, ‘Ernst L. Freud. Interviewed at His New London House,’ in: Decoration 7 (November 1937): pp. 22–25; Ernst L. Freud and H. Bright, ‘The Conquest of Space with the Aid of Electricity,’ in: Good Housekeeping, October 1936, pp. 60–61, 104–5.

• 28. Freud and Bright, ‘The Conquest of Space,’ pp. 60–61, 104–5.

• 29. Arnold Zweig to Sigmund Freud, October 14, 1937, in: The Letters of Sigmund Freud and Arnold Zweig, ed. Ernst L. Freud, trans. Elaine and William Robson-Scott (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1970), p. 148.

• 30. Letter Sigmund Freud to Jeanne Lampl de Groot, August 22, 1938 (London, Sigmund Freud Museum, SF/K to N, box 17), trans. in Freud Museum London (ed.), 20 Maresfield Gardens: Guide to the Freud Museum (London: Serpent’s Tail, 1998), p. 8; I slightly amended the translation.