Frank Lloyd Wright was 91 years old when he sat down to design a home for Norman and Aimee Lykes. That's a staggering age for a visionary to still be tinkering with the geometry of how we live. He died just before the ground was broken in Phoenix, Arizona. This place, often called the Lykes House or the Circular Sun House, holds a weird, beautiful, and slightly controversial spot in architectural history because it is, officially, the last Wright house ever designed by the master himself.
It’s not just a building. It’s a swan song.
If you look at the floor plan, it looks like a collection of overlapping tambourines or maybe a complex gears system from a vintage watch. There aren't really right angles here. Wright was obsessed with the "solar hemicycle" design toward the end of his life, and this house is the ultimate evolution of that thought process. He wanted the structure to grow out of the Palm Canyon desert like it was a natural rock formation, not something dropped there by a crane.
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Why the Last Wright House Almost Didn't Look Like This
There’s a bit of a misconception that Wright supervised every brick. He didn't. He couldn't. He passed away in 1959, and his apprentice, John Rattenbury, took the reigns to ensure the vision didn't die with the man. Rattenbury was meticulous. He had to be. Imagine the pressure of finishing the final residential project of the most famous architect in American history.
The Lykes family actually had to wait. Construction didn't even start until 1967. Think about that gap. Architecture had shifted. Mid-century modernism was in full swing, yet here was a design rooted in Wright’s late-fifties organic philosophy.
Honestly, the house is a bit of a rebel. While everyone else in the sixties was building boxes, Wright and Rattenbury were building curves. The home is made of colored concrete blocks that mimic the tones of the surrounding mountains. It’s tucked into a precarious hillside, hugging the landscape. It feels private, almost secretive, despite having massive windows that frame the valley below.
The 1994 Remodel Controversy
Here is where purists get a little sweaty. In 1994, the home underwent a massive renovation. Rattenbury came back to do it, which gives it a layer of "official" protection, but they changed the layout. Originally, the last Wright house had five tiny bedrooms. I mean tiny. Wright was notorious for making bedrooms small because he thought people should be in the common areas, living life, not hiding under covers.
The new owners wanted something more functional for modern life. Rattenbury converted those five cramped rooms into three larger, more breathable suites. He also updated the kitchen.
Is it still a "pure" Wright house?
Some say no. Others argue that since the original apprentice handled the changes using Wright’s underlying logic, it’s an evolution rather than a desecration. It’s a classic architectural debate: do we preserve a house as a museum, or do we let it be a home?
Living Inside a Golden Spiral
When you step inside, the first thing you notice is the built-in furniture. Wright hated "store-bought" clutter. He designed the desks, the cabinets, and the shelving to be part of the walls. It’s all Philippine mahogany. The wood has this deep, honey-like glow that offsets the cool, desert-toned concrete.
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The living room is a massive crescent. It follows the curve of the exterior. You don't walk through this house; you flow through it.
- The windows are deeply recessed to manage the brutal Arizona sun.
- The pool is a perfect crescent, lined with mother-of-pearl tiles.
- Viewing portals—small, circular windows—are punched into the walls to frame specific desert peaks.
You’ve probably seen photos of the "Garden Room." It’s the heart of the home. The way the light hits the floor at 4:00 PM is basically a religious experience for architecture nerds. It’s not just about luxury; it's about how the sun moves across the sky. Wright was obsessed with that. He didn't just build a house; he built a sundial you can live in.
The Market Reality of Architectural Icons
The Lykes House has been on and off the market several times over the last decade. It’s a tough sell. Why? Because you aren't just buying a 2,800-square-foot house with a pool. You’re buying a piece of fine art that requires a specialized kind of upkeep.
In 2019, it sold at auction for about $1.7 million. At one point, it was listed for nearly $3.6 million. That price fluctuation tells you everything you need to know about the niche market for the last Wright house. You have to find a buyer who doesn't mind that the walls are curved (try hanging a square painting, I dare you) and who appreciates the historical weight of the property.
It’s currently used as a high-end vacation rental and a spot for corporate retreats. This is actually a trend for late-era Wright properties. They are expensive to maintain, and opening them up to the public—even at a steep price—is often the only way to keep the lights on and the mahogany polished.
Misconceptions About the "Final" Design
People often confuse this with the David and Gladys Wright House (also in Phoenix). That one was built for his son. While that house is also circular and incredible, the Lykes House is the one that sits on the very end of his drawing board timeline.
It’s also important to realize that Wright’s "Usonian" period influenced this heavily. He wanted homes to be affordable and for the masses, but by the time he got to the Lykes project, the complexity of the site and the custom nature of the curves made it anything but a "house for the common man." It’s a luxury fortress.
The concrete blocks weren't just standard cinder blocks you find at a hardware store. They were custom-poured with specific pigments to ensure they never needed paint. Paint would "suffocate" the organic feel of the stone. Wright wanted the house to age, to patina, to eventually look like it had been there for a thousand years.
The Legacy of the Last Wright House
Architecture is often about ego. But at the end of his life, Wright seemed more interested in harmony. The Lykes House doesn't scream for attention from the street. In fact, from the base of the mountain, you can barely see it. It hides.
It represents a shift from the bold, cantilevered aggression of Fallingwater to a more sheltered, grounded existence. It’s the work of a man who knew his time was short and wanted to leave behind a space that felt permanent and peaceful.
If you ever get a chance to visit, pay attention to the acoustics. The curved walls do strange, wonderful things to sound. A whisper in the kitchen can sometimes be heard clearly in the lounge. It’s a quirky side effect of living in a circle.
Actionable Insights for Architecture Enthusiasts
If you are looking to experience or study the last Wright house—or any of his late-period works—keep these points in mind:
- Check the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation Registry: Before visiting or quoting facts, verify the "Taliesin Project Number." The Lykes House is #5904. This tells you it was the fourth project started in 1959, his final year.
- Understand the "Apprentice Factor": When researching his final works, always look for the name of the supervising architect (like Rattenbury). Their influence is what actually got the buildings off the paper and into the ground.
- Visit During the "Golden Hour": If you book a tour or a stay, the house is designed specifically for the transition between day and night. The shadows in the circular hallways are part of the intended "show."
- Respect the Preservation Rules: Most of these homes have strict "no-touch" policies on the woodwork. The oils from human hands can damage the original 1960s finishes on the mahogany, which are incredibly difficult to restore.
The Lykes House remains a testament to the idea that a person’s best work doesn't have to happen when they are young. It’s a complex, challenging, and ultimately serene space that closed the book on the most influential career in American architecture. It isn't just a house. It’s the final period at the end of a very long, very loud sentence.
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To truly appreciate the genius here, you have to stop looking at it as a building and start looking at it as a map of Wright’s final thoughts. The curves, the desert colors, and the hidden entrance all point to a man who had finally figured out how to stop fighting nature and start belonging to it.
The last Wright house stands as a reminder that even the most famous innovators never really stop evolving until the very end.