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Frank Gehry, who has died aged 96, altered the trajectory of global design at least on two distinct occasions. Initially, in the 1970s, his unconventional style showed how materials like wire mesh could be elevated into an powerful architectural element. Subsequently, in the nineties, he showcased the use of software to construct breathtakingly intricate shapes, giving birth to the thrashing titanium curves of the iconic Bilbao museum and a fleet of similarly sculptural buildings.

An Architectural Landmark

When it was inaugurated in 1997, the shimmering titanium museum seized the imagination of the design world and global media. It was hailed as the leading embodiment of a new paradigm of digitally-driven design and a masterful piece of urban sculpture, snaking along the waterfront, a blend of renaissance palace and part ship. Its influence on cultural institutions and the art world was immense, as the so-called “Bilbao phenomenon” revitalized a rust-belt city in northern Spain into a premier tourist destination. Within two years, fueled by a media feeding frenzy, Gehry’s museum was said with generating $400 million to the local economy.

For some, the dazzling exterior of the container was deemed to overshadow the artworks within. The critic Hal Foster argued that Gehry had “provided patrons too much of what they want, a overpowering space that dwarfs the viewer, a striking icon that can travel through the media as a global brand.”

Beyond any other architect of his era, Gehry expanded the role of architecture as a brand. This marketing power proved to be his key strength as well as a potential weakness, with some later projects descending into repetitive cliche.

From Toronto to the “Cheapskate Aesthetic”

{A rumpled character who wore T-shirts and baggy trousers, Gehry’s relaxed persona was central to his design philosophy—it was consistently innovative, inclusive, and willing to experiment. Sociable and quick to grin, he was “Frank” to his patrons, with whom he frequently maintained long friendships. Yet, he could also be brusque and cantankerous, particularly in his later years. At a 2014 press conference, he derided much contemporary design as “rubbish” and reportedly flashed a journalist the middle finger.

Hailing from Canada, Frank was the son of immigrant parents. Experiencing prejudice in his youth, he changed his surname from Goldberg to Gehry in his twenties, a move that eased his professional acceptance but later brought him remorse. Paradoxically, this early suppression led him to later embrace his heritage and role as an maverick.

He relocated to California in 1947 and, after stints as a lorry driver, obtained an architecture degree. After time in the army, he briefly studied city planning at Harvard but left, disenchanted. He then worked for pragmatic modernists like Victor Gruen and William Pereira, an experience that fostered what Gehry termed his “low-budget realism,” a raw or “dirty realism” that would influence a wave of architects.

Collaboration with Artists and the Path to Distinction

Before developing his distinctive synthesis, Gehry tackled small-scale renovations and studios for artists. Feeling unappreciated by the Los Angeles architectural establishment, he turned to artists for acceptance and inspiration. These fruitful friendships with figures like Robert Rauschenberg and Claes Oldenburg, from whom he learned the art of clever transformation and a “funk art” sensibility.

Inspired by more conceptual artists like Richard Serra, he learned the power of repetition and reduction. This fusion of influences solidified his unique aesthetic, perfectly aligned to the southern California zeitgeist of the era. A major project was his 1978 residence in Santa Monica, a small house wrapped in chain-link and other everyday materials that became infamous—celebrated by the avant-garde but despised by neighbors.

Mastering the Machine: The Global Icon

The major evolution came when Gehry started harnessing digital technology, specifically CATIA, to translate his increasingly complex visions. The initial full-scale fruit of this was the winning design for the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao in 1991. Here, his longstanding themes of abstracted fish curves were brought together in a powerful grammar sheathed in shimmering titanium, which became his trademark material.

The extraordinary success of Bilbao—the “effect”—echoed worldwide and secured Gehry’s status as a global starchitect. Major commissions poured in: the concert hall in Los Angeles, a tower in New York, the Louis Vuitton Foundation in Paris, and a university building in Sydney that resembled a stack of brown paper bags.

His celebrity extended beyond architecture; he was featured on *The Simpsons*, designed a hat for Lady Gaga, and collaborated with figures from Brad Pitt to Mark Zuckerberg. However, he also completed humble and personal projects, such as a cancer care centre in Dundee, designed as a personal tribute.

A Lasting Influence and Personal Life

Frank Gehry was awarded countless accolades, including the Pritzker Prize (1989) and the Presidential Medal of Freedom (2016). Central to his story was the steadfast support of his family, Berta Aguilera, who handled the financial side of his practice. Berta, along with their two sons and a daughter from his first marriage, survive him.

Frank Owen Gehry, entered the world on February 28, 1929, has left a legacy permanently altered by his daring exploration into material, software, and the very concept of what a building can be.