There’s more in Connecticut than you may think. Here are the buildings you need to see on your next trip, from the Modernist Glass House to the now-renovated Breuer House II.

　　Earlier versions of the descriptions of these buildings first appeared in 1001 Buildings You Must See Before You Die, edited by Mark Irving (2016). Writers’ names appear in parentheses.

　　Although he became highly sought-after as an architect of large, important commissions, the influential Deconstructivist Peter Eisenman began his career with a series of rather small, yet highly elaborate and almost sculptural, private houses. The most famous and characteristic, House VI, is a family house set in the countryside of Cornwall, Connecticut. It is also known as Frank House, after its owners Richard and Suzanne Frank. The structure, completed in 1975, is a playful constellation of tricks, twists, and architectural experiments.

　　The house’s modular base produced a flexible plan of airy, open spaces with numerous large openings. Using a post-and-beam system, large timbers hold the structure’s wooden frame. The house includes some rather unconventional features, among them a column that does not reach the ground and a linear slot on the master bedroom floor that allows no room for a marital bed. This unique house may not be a model of clarity and structural honesty, but it established Eisenman’s design themes of disjunction and discontinuity. These were themes he revisited at the controversial Wexner Center for the Arts (1989) on the Ohio State University campus, which needed extensive renovations within a few years of opening.

　　Although the Franks initially had an enthusiastic and understanding attitude toward Eisenman’s bizarre design proposals, the continual changes and updates he made to the project were expensive and threw them seriously off budget. The experience prompted Suzanne Frank to write a book describing the construction of the house—Peter Eisenman’s House VI: The Client’s Response (1994). This tale of black humor is considered to be one of the most revealing documents on contemporary architecture. (Ellie Stathaki)

　　The house built for Adventures of Tom Sawyer writer Samuel Clemens (known as Mark Twain) mixes influences to create a building full of character and atmosphere. The Victorian Stick style, popular in North America during the second half of the 19th century, referred to central European Alpine chalets and English Tudor houses. Edward Tuckerman Potter was commissioned to design the house in Hartford so that Twain could be near his publishers. Tuckerman Potter was best known for his ecclesiastical buildings on the U.S. East Coast.

　　The 19-bedroom mansion’s eclectic richly colored interiors were designed by Louis Comfort Tiffany. The house, completed in 1874, utilized the latest technologies available at the time, including a telephone system that was one of the first to be installed in a private home. Twain and his family moved out of the house in the 1890s. Since then it has had many uses, including a period as a school building. It is now a national historic landmark that has seen various stages of restoration. A separate building housing the Mark Twain Museum opened in 2003.

　　Moving through the building, the visitor can sense a story within: unexpected turns, cozy corners, and views over the central winding staircase. Not only is the house an example of architectural styles fashionable in the United States at the time, it also nurtured the work of a great American writer. (Riikka Kuittinen)

　　Breuer House II is a modern version of the traditional “longhouse” plan—one room deep and connected in a straight line. It is built into a gently rising hillside in New Canaan, Connecticut, and is entered from the windowless northwest side. The main living spaces are on the upper level, which is built of timber, with a broad overhanging balcony on the southeast corner, from which a slender ladder stair descends into the garden.

　　In 1938, architect Marcel Breuer arrived in the United States and became known as a young Modernist with Bauhaus roots who was pioneering a more romantic form of architecture with natural materials and rough textures. He worked in New York and subsequently joined a colony of Modernist architects building their own houses at New Canaan, of which Philip Johnson’s Glass House is now the best known. The first Breuer House, in Lincoln, Massachusetts, was designed with Walter Gropius.

　　Breuer House II, completed in 1948, is a timber box that floats on a concrete base. It attracted admiration worldwide, despite a difficult construction process, and was widely imitated. The process of hanging the balcony from a steel cable took many attempts to achieve successfully, although this feature provided the best photographs during its construction, including one of Breuer and his wife eating lunch and enjoying the view. Inside, there was a freestanding white-painted fireplace, another typical Breuer feature. Breuer House II survives today but in a much altered form. (Alan Powers)

　　The Glass House in New Canaan, Connecticut, is the epitome of Modernism and Modernist space: a spare glass and steel box. It is flooded with light, open visually to the natural world around it yet austerely in contrast to it. Architect Philip Johnson drew closely on the tradition of the classical villa in his design: a place of retreat and repose in the country. The house is an hour’s drive north of New York, and Johnson, who built it for himself, commuted for many years to his office in Manhattan. Internally, the division of space seems provisional and fluid, as there are no partition walls. The space is defined by a brick cylinder that separates the space between bedroom and study, and living and dining areas. This cylinder contains a bathroom opening onto one area and an open hearth facing the other. The hearth completes the mise-en-scène of the main living space, centralized in the house like the salon in a classical villa but here defined only by the edges of a large rug on the floor and bounded by a fictive wall implied by the positioning of a Poussin painting on an easel. The house, built in 1949, is set up on a small bluff and looks down onto a lake and pavilion. The latter is just one of many folly-type structures Johnson built, making the grounds of the house seem like a small-scale 18th-century English garden. One of the most iconic buildings of the 20th century, the house is also a sophisticated essay on architectural history. (Rob Wilson)

　　Can any other art gallery boast a staircase that is a pilgrimage destination? The triangle-inside-a-circle stair by Louis Kahn is not, however, boastful. His modestly sized mid-century art gallery addition to the Beaux-Arts main space is classically inspired but modern in delivery. Kahn’s use of materials was maverick, though he was a statesmanlike Modernist, as is evident in details such as the concrete slab dual-purpose ceiling/floors. These are triangular shapes formed in tetrahedral pans to create depth and texture. Each floor is visible through the crisp glass and thin vertical scrim of the steel frame; combined they create a formal yet warm space. Kahn contrasts the glass/steel side with Chapel Street—a concrete facade composed of blocks. The lobby continues this blending of different materials with a red-brick stretcher bond wall. The exhibition floors are open spaces. The gallery, completed in 1953, was renovated in 2012 by the Polshek Partnership, which honored the form while updating selected materials. Masters of the curtain wall, the Polshek Partnership sandwiched the glass and metal with reinforced insulation. They released Kahn’s sunken court from a clumsy roof addition. The famous staircase rationalizes the layout and provides a circulation feature. The next time you’re in New Haven, stand at the top of the stairs and look down. Light filters over your head from clerestory windows that peek around a cast triangle panel. This vantage point crystallizes the reason why Kahn’s quiet gem must be seen. (Denna Jones)

　　Eero Saarinen died in 1961, having been America’s most glamorous architect of the 1950s and one of its best. In 1956 he was commissioned to build this ice hockey rink for Yale University in New Haven. Neither the beauty and daring of his design nor the reputation and charm of the architect, however, was enough to win the project easy acceptance in the university’s conservative atmosphere. Without the massive efforts of Alfred Whitney Griswold, Yale’s president, the project would almost certainly have been abandoned. Although widely known as the “Yale Whale” in affectionate mockery of its appearance from above, the rink is officially named for David S. Ingalls and David S. Ingalls, Jr., both former hockey captains.

　　The design of the Ingalls Ice Rink is so simple it seems almost inevitable: a single arching concrete beam runs the length of the rink, and a cable-hung roof hangs in a gentle curve from this ridge to the low outer wall. The great beam curves back up again at each end like a Cupid’s bow, the ends providing an entrance canopy. The cooling equipment, locker rooms, and offices are under the rink; the seating rises on all sides. Materials are simple, with the underside of the roof made of bare planks and the stadium concrete left rough. The hardness of the materials somehow makes the elegant shapes even more poignant. (Barnabas Calder)

　　Temple Street Parking GarageThe multistory parking garage is perhaps the perfect Brutalist building type: ramps, columns, and structural decks, all in hard materials. The Temple Street Parking Garage was built as part of New Haven’s energetic postwar urban renewal program, providing parking for those driving in on the new expressways. Paul Rudolph was the head of Yale’s architecture school and a leading figure in the weighty business of urban renewal. At Temple Street, however, the serious planner is far less in evidence than the extravagant and highly accomplished artist. The program is simple enough: five decks providing more than 1,200 parking spaces, with shops and restaurants at street level. The building does not go back far from the road, but its front to Temple Street is long, giving it a dominant, even overwhelming, presence. The entire structure is exposed yellow-brown concrete, poured into molds of fine wooden slats that leave their mark once removed. This technique not only produces a rough ribbed texture but also offers flexibility in the construction process. The remarkable lampposts crown the building with a final sci-fi touch. This is concrete at its expressive, brutal, beautiful best. The building was completed in 1963 and meticulously restored in 2004 after earlier repairs. (Barnabas Calder)