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B runo Zevi
T he M
odem L
anguage of A rchitecture
Bruno Zevi
The Modem Language of Architecture
The Modern Language of Architecture Bruno Zevi
"These p ag es/' writes Bruno Zevi, "have the same goal as any other heretical ac t: to arouse dissent. If they provoke argument, they will have achieved their aim. Instead of talking endlessly about architecture, we shall finally begin to speak architecture." The Modern Language o f Architecture by Bruno Zevi, whom Frank Lloyd W right called "the most penetrating architectural critic of our tim e," should be read by anyone with an interest in designing, constructing, buying, selling, looking at, or living in a building.
Setting forth seven principles, or "antirules," Zevi attem pts, in the first part, to codify the new language of architecture that was created by Le Corbusier, Gropius, Mies van der Rohe, and W right. In place of the classical language formulated by the Beaux-Arts school, with its focus on abstract principles of order, proportion, and symmetry, he presents an alternative system of communication characterized by a free interpretation of contents and function, an emphasis on differentiation and dissonance, a dynamic multidimensional vision, an inde pendent interplay of elements, an organic marriage between engineering and architecture, living spaces designed to be used, and an inte gration of every building into its surroundings.
Part 2, tracing the dialogue between architecture and historiography, dem onstrates that the modern language of architecture is not the language of m odern architecture, bu t the real system of communication of all creative architecture. A survey of the literature of the
B runo Zevi
T he M
odem L
anguage of A rchitecture
Bruno Zevi
The Modem Language of Architecture
The Modern Language of Architecture Bruno Zevi
"These p ag es/' writes Bruno Zevi, "have the same goal as any other heretical ac t: to arouse dissent. If they provoke argument, they will have achieved their aim. Instead of talking endlessly about architecture, we shall finally begin to speak architecture." The Modern Language o f Architecture by Bruno Zevi, whom Frank Lloyd W right called "the most penetrating architectural critic of our tim e," should be read by anyone with an interest in designing, constructing, buying, selling, looking at, or living in a building.
Setting forth seven principles, or "antirules," Zevi attem pts, in the first part, to codify the new language of architecture that was created by Le Corbusier, Gropius, Mies van der Rohe, and W right. In place of the classical language formulated by the Beaux-Arts school, with its focus on abstract principles of order, proportion, and symmetry, he presents an alternative system of communication characterized by a free interpretation of contents and function, an emphasis on differentiation and dissonance, a dynamic multidimensional vision, an inde pendent interplay of elements, an organic marriage between engineering and architecture, living spaces designed to be used, and an inte gration of every building into its surroundings.
Part 2, tracing the dialogue between architecture and historiography, dem onstrates that the modern language of architecture is not the language of m odern architecture, bu t the real system of communication of all creative architecture. A survey of the literature of the
This book was published by ANU Press between 1965–1991.
This republication is part of the digitisation project being carried out by Scholarly Information Services/Library and ANU Press.
This project aims to make past scholarly works published by The Australian National University available to
a global audience under its open-access policy.
T he M odern Language of A rchitecture
THE MODERN LANGUAGE
OF ARCHITECTURE
By Bruno Zevi
A ustralian N ational U niversity P ress Canberra 1978
First published in Australia 1978
Printed in the U nited States of America for the Australian National University Press, Canberra
© University of Washington Press, 1978
This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism, or review, as perm itted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any process w ithout w ritten permission. Inquiries should be made to the publisher.
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry Zevi, Bruno.
The m odem language of architecture. Index. Sim ultaneously published, Seattle: University of W ashington Press. ISBN 0 7081 0885 7. 1. Architecture— language. I. Title.
720
Contents
P art O ne: A Guide to the Anticlassical Code
Introduction: Speaking Architecture 3 I. Listing as Design M ethodology 7 II. Asymmetry and Dissonance 15 III. Antiperspective Three-Dimensionality 23 IV. The Syntax of Four-dimensional Decomposition 31 V. Cantilever, Shell, and M embrane Structures 39 VI. Space in Time 47 VII. Reintegration of Building, City, and Landscape 55 Conclusion: Unfinished Architecture and Kitsch 64 A fterthoughts 68
1. Coming of Age 68 2. Mannerism and Language 69 3. The Historic Sequence of the Invariables 71 4. Misunderstandings of the Langue/Parole Relationship 73 5. The Seven Invariables in Town Planning 76 6. Questions and Answers about Architectural Writing 81
P art Two: Architecture versus Architectural History
Introduction: Anticlassicism and Le Corbusier 91 VIII. Medievalist Culture, Arts and Crafts, and Neo-
Romanesque: Functional Listing as Design M ethodology 123
V
vi Contents
IX. Gothic Historiography, Nineteenth-Century Engineer ing/ Art Nouveau, Garden Cities: Asymmetry and Disso nance; Cantilever, Shell, and Membrane Structures 139
X. Renaissance and Rationalism: Antiperspective Three- Dimensionality, Syntax of Four-dimensional Decomposition
XI. Mannerism and Baroque, Organic Architecture: Space in Time; Reintegration of Building, City, and Landscape 187
Conclusion: Prehistory and the Zero Degree of Architectural Culture 219
Index 234 Photographic Sources 242
Illustrations
1. The dictatorship of the straight line (cartoon by Mauris) 6
2. The methodology of listing functions: windows 9 3. The methodology of listing functions: volumes 13 4. W here to hang a picture 14 5. Rome, Piazza Venezia 16 6. How to light a room 19 7. Siena, Piazza del Campo 22 8. Rome, Palazzo Famese and Piazza del Campidoglio 25 9. The mania of the T-square 28
10. Sketch for a movie industry (Mendelsohn) 29 11. The box, decomposition into panels 32 12. Decomposition: San Filippo Neri (Borromini); Bauhaus
(Gropius); Pavilion, Barcelona (Mies van der Rohe) 34 13. Eight sketches (Wright); Falling W ater (W right) 38 14. M odem structures (Morandi, Fuller, Candela, Torroja,
and O tto) 41 15. W avy surface design by the computer 43 16. Drawings produced by the computer 44 17. The architect of the future (cartoon) 45 18. Closed spaces (menhir, pyramid, Greek temple); static
interior spaces (Pantheon, Temple of M inerva Medica); spaces to move through (Acropolis, Hadrian's villa, ca tacombs); Paleo-Christian one-directional movement; Gothic two-directional movement; Baroque movement (Piazza del Quirinale) 48
19. Architecture w ithout buildings 51 20. W right, from listing to reintegration: M artin and Bar
ton Houses, Guggenheim Museum 54
vii
viii Illustrations
21. Raumplan and reintegration 56 22. Johansen, from listing to reintegration: M ummers
Theater 58 23. Habitat '67 (Safdie); cartoons (Ting and Daigneault);
sketch (Kahn) 60 24. Pneumatic structures (Jungmann); macrostructures
(Archigram) 62 25. Plug-in City (Archigram) 66 26. Sketch by Michelangelo for the Florence fortifications
of 1529: interior spaces 78 27. Sketch by Michelangelo: structural profiles 79 28. Sketch by Michelangelo: walls-landscape dialogue 80 29. The "M odulor" by Le Corbusier (cartoon by Van
Goethem) 85 30. Sant'Ivo alia Sapienza (Borromini) 88-89 31. Guggenheim M useum (Wright) 88-89 32. British M useum 90 33. Pantheon, Paris 90 34. Prison, W ürzburg 90 35. Trinity Church, New York 90 36. Haughw out Building, New York 90 37. Opera, Paris 90 38. Falling W ater (Wright) 93 39. Maison La Roche (Le Corbusier) 93 40. Guaranty Building, Buffalo (Adler and Sullivan) 93 41. House near Vienna (Loos) 93 42. Ames Gate Lodge (Richardson) 93 43. Railing in studio, Brussels (Horta) 93 44. Red House (Morris and W ebb) 93 45. Strawberry Hill (Walpole) 95 46. Reggia (Vanvitelli) 95 47. Palazzo dei Conservatori (Michelangelo) 95 48. Tem pietto di San Pietro in M ontorio (Bramante) 95 49. Cupola of Duomo, Florence (Brunelleschi) 95 50. San Pietro, Tuscania 95 51. Catacombs of Domitilla, Rome 95 52. Pont du Gard 95 53. Parthenon 95 54. Palace at Phaestos 95 55. Trade exchanges between Crete and the ancient O rient 95 56. Dolmen at Carnac 95
Illustrations ix
57. Sun Pyramid, Teotihuacän 97 58. Temple of Quetzalcoatl, Teotihuacan 97 59. Phoenix Hall in the Temple of Byödö-in, near Kyoto 97 60. The Parthenon seen from the Propylaea (sketch by
Le Corbusier) 99 61. The Propylaea from the Parthenon (sketch by
Le Corbusier) 99 62. The Acropolis (sketch by Le Corbusier) 99 63. The Temple of Athena (sketch by Le Corbusier) 99 64. The Acropolis seen from the air 100 65. The rock at the foot of the Parthenon 100 66. Lacunars of the Parthenon 100 67. Villa Savoye (Le Corbusier) 101 68. Cityscape, Antwerp (Le Corbusier) 101 69. M useum w ith unlimited expansion (Le Corbusier) 101 70. Plan of Priene (Bonnet) 103 71. Plan of Chandigarh (Le Corbusier) 103 72. Model of Chandigarh 104-5 73. Model of Priene 105 74. Stylobate of the Temple of Afaia, Egina 106 75. Capital of the Propylaea 106 76. Pilotis of the Villa Savoye (Le Corbusier) 107 77. Interior of house at Porte Molitor (Le Corbusier) 107 78. Fluting and entasis of Parthenon columns 108 79. Molded walls of the Chapelle de Ronchamp
(Le Corbusier) 109 80. Molded walls of the Chapelle de Ronchamp 109 81. Hadrian's Villa, cross vaults 111 82. Theater of Dionysus, Athens 113 83. Flavian Am phitheater (Colosseum) 113 84. Project for the new Philadelphia (Kahn) 113 85. Convention Hall, Dacca (Kahn) 114 86. Sketch of the "Pecile," Hadrian's Villa, by Le Corbusier 115 87. “Pecile" at Hadrian's Villa 115 88. Plan of Hadrian's Villa 116 89. Chapel of Florida Southern College (W right) 117 90. Plan of Florida Southern College 117 91. View of Florida Southern College 117 92. Aerial view of Hadrian's Villa 118 93. Aerial sketch of Florida Southern College (W right) 119 94. Medieval street in Perugia 120-21
X Illustrations
95. Prison, Pittsburgh (Richardson) 122 96. Crane Library, Quincy, Mass. (Richardson) 122 97. Palace of Catalonian Music, Barcelona (Domenech i
M ontaner) 127 98. W ater tank, Leghorn (Poccianti) 127 99. Electric powerhouse, Trezzo d'Adda (M oretti) 127
100. Piazza San Pellegrino, Viterbo 131 101. “The Pastures,“ N orth Luffenham (Voysey) 131 102. Cross vaults in Sant'Ambrogio, Milan 133 103. Cross vaults in Sant'Ambrogio, Milan 133 104. Hall of Amsterdam Stock Exchange (Berlage) 133 105. Timber framework in the Cloister Court of Queen's
College, Cambridge 134 106. M etal framework in Alumni Memorial Hall, Illinois
Institute of Technology (Mies van der Rohe) 134 107. Abbey of M ont-Saint-M ichel 136-37 108. Eiffel Tower 138 109. Vaults over the choir of the cathedral of Amiens 140 110. Galerie des Machines, Paris (Contamin and Dutert) 141 111. Rampant arches of the cathedral of Chartres 142 112. Refinery in Texas 143 113. Rose window, Notre Dame de Paris 145 114. Insets in reinforced concrete, Notre Dame at Le Rainey 145 115. Sainte-Chapelle, Paris 146 116. Interior of chapel at Palos Verdes, Calif. (Lloyd W right) 147 117. Side view of chapel at Palos Verdes 147 118. Wells Cathedral 148 119. W inter garden, house on Avenue Palmerston, Brussels
(Horta) 149 120. Santa Barbara, Kuttenberg 151 121. Paris M etro (Guimard) 151 122. King's College Chapel, Cambridge 152-53 123. American Pavilion, M ontreal (Fuller) 153 124. Bodleian Library, Oxford 154 125. Palazzo Ducale, Venice 155 126. Palais Stoclet, Brussels (Hoffman) 155 127. Palais Stoclet, Brussels 155 128. Austrian Pavilian, Venice (Hoffman) 155 129. Palazzo Comunale, Perugia (Giacomo di Servadio and
Giovannello di Benvenuto) 157 130. M onadnock Building, Chicago (Root and Burnham) 157
Illustrations xi
131. M aison du Peuple, Brussels (Horta) 157 132. Bruges Town Hall 158 133. "The Illinois" (Wright) 159 134. Cathedral of Chartres 161 135. Rockefeller Center (Hood and Fouilhoux, Reinhard and
Hofmeister, Corbett, Harrison and M acM urray) 161 136. Twisted column, Saint-Severin, Paris 162 137. Palace of the Third International, Moscow (Tatlin) 163 138. New Lanark, near Glasgow, by Robert O w en 164 139. Lucignano 165 140. Bram, near Carcassonne 165 141. Perugia from the air 166 142. W elwyn Garden City, by Louis de Soissons and Arthur
Kenyon, from the air 167 143. Santa Maria delle Careen, Prato (Sangallo) 168-69 144. Chair by Gerrit Rietveld 170 145. Proportions in a drawing by Leonardo da Vinci 172 146. The M odulor of Le Corbusier 173 147. Housing project, Rotterdam (Oud) 175 148. Santa Maria della Consolazione, Todi (Cola di M atte-
uccio di Caprarola) 175 149. Palazzo Bartolini (Baccio d'Agnolo) 176 150. O zenfant's studio house, Paris (Le Corbusier) 177 151. M aison La Roche (Le Corbusier) 177 152. Palazzo Pitti (Brunelleschi) 179 153. Housing project, Berlin-Dahlem (Luckhardt and
Anker) 179 154. Piazza della Santissima Annunziata 181 155. Sketch for the Alexanderplatz (Luckhardt) 181 156. Sketch for the Alexanderplatz 181 157. Ospedale degli Innocenti (Brunelleschi) 183 158. German Pavilion, Barcelona (Mies van der Rohe) 183 159. German Pavilion, Barcelona 183 160. Bridge over Tschiel-Bach Valley (Maillart) 183 161. Fresco in the Room of Giants, Palazzo del Te (Giulio
Romano) 184-85 162. Library of the Faculty of History, Oxford (Stirling) 186 163. Laurentian Library, staircase (Michelangelo) 188 164. Laurentian Library (Michelangelo) 188 165. Mila House (Gaudi) 189 166. Milä House 189
xii Illustrations
167 . Palazzo Farnese (Michelangelo) 191 168. Aerial view of Piazza del Campidoglio 191 169. Plan of Piazza del Campidoglio 191 170. Plan of Piazza della Santissima Annunziata 191 171. Sketch by Michelangelo for Florence fortifications of
1529 191 172. Einstein Tower, Potsdam (Mendelsohn) 191 173. Project for a church (Bartning) 191 174. Pavilions at the Stockholm Exhibition (Asplund) 193 175. Plans of San Lorenzo, Florence (Brunelleschi), Sant'A n
drea, M antua (Alberti), and the Gesü (Vignola) 193 176. Cupola of the Gesü (Vignola and Della Porta) 193 177. Conference room, Viipuri Library (Aalto) 195 178. Cupola of Sant'Andrea al Quirinale (Bernini) 195 179. Plan of Sant'Andrea al Quirinale 195 180. Santa Maria in Campitelli (Rainaldi) 195 181. Plan of Santa Maria in Campitelli 195 182. Dissonance of light in Santa Maria in Campitelli 197 183. Dissonance of light in the Chapelle de Ronchamp
(Le Corbusier) 197 184. Plan of Sant'Agnese in the Piazza Navona, Rome, be
fore the church was transformed 199 185. Plan of Sant'Agnese in the Piazza Navona according
to Borromini's initial project 199 186. Plan of Sant'Agnese in the Piazza Navona in its final
form 199 187. Plan of Finnish Pavilion, New York (Aalto) 199 188. Interior view of Sant'Agnese in the Piazza Navona 200-1 189. Cross section of Sant'Agnese in the Piazza Navona 201 190. Plan of the Palazzo della Sapienza w ith the church
of Sant'Ivo (Borromini) 201 191. Finnish Pavilion, New York (Aalto) 200 192. Finish Pavilion, elements in wood 200-1 193. Elements in undulating wood, by Alvar Aalto 203 194. Cross section of Sant'Ivo alia Sapienza (Borromini) 203 195. Cupola of Sant'Ivo alia Sapienza 203 196. Stairway in the H om e House, Florence, attributed to
Simone del Pollaiolo 205 197. Spiral stairway in the Palazzo Famese at Caprarola
(Vignola) 205 198. Grand stairway in the Reggia (Vanvitelli) 205
Illustrations xiii
199. Stairway-corridors in Aalto's dormitories at MIT 205 200. MIT dormitories (Aalto) 206 201. Landsdown Crescent, Bath 206 202. Paper mill at Fors (Erskine) 207 203. Aerial view of Piazza di Spagna 209 204. Plan of Piazza di Spagna 209 205. Aerial view of Piazza del Quirinale 209 206. Piazza del Quirinale, a 1676 drawing 209 207. City Hall Plaza, Boston, detail (Rudolph) 209 208. City Hall Plaza, Boston, detail (Rudolph) 209 209. Aerial view of Santa M aria Maggiore, w ith the facade
by Ferdinando Fuga 211 210. M idway Gardens, Chicago (Wright) 211 211. Taliesin W est (Wright) 211 212. Price House, Bartlesville (Wright) 211 213. Aerial view of Piazza Navona w ith Sant'Agnese in
Agone (Borromini) 212 214. Johnson Adm inistration Building, Racine (W right) 212 215. Johnson Adm inistration Building 213 216. Interior view of Sant'Ivo alia Sapienza (Borromini) 215 217. Interior view of Guggenheim M useum (W right) 215 218. Aerial view of M atera 216-17 219. Night view of Las Vegas 218 220. Primitive village of the Dogon tribe, Mali 220 221. Barriadas in Lima 221 222. Neolithic village of Ba Ila 223 223. Geodesic domes in the "hippy" com m unity of Drop
City, Colo. 223 224. Geodesic domes, Drop City 223 225. Habitat '67 (Safdie) 223 226. M atmata village, Tunisia 224 227. "Architecture of the dunes," sketch by Erich M endel
sohn 225 228. "Architecture of the dunes," sketch by Erich M endel
sohn 225 229. "Architecture of the dunes," sketch by Erich M endel
sohn 225 230. "Architecture of the dunes," sketch by Erich M endel
sohn 225 231. "Architecture of the dunes," sketch by Erich M endel
sohn 225
xiv Illustrations
232. M ummers Theater, Oklahom a City, by John Johansen 227 233. M ummers Theater (Johansen) 227 234. Dwellings at Metameur, Tunisia 228 235. Villa "a rajada" near Gland (Frei, Hunziker, and
Presset) 229 236. Recreational Center near Chambery (Hausermann) 229 237. Model for Roosevelt Memorial (Pederson and Tilney) 231 238. Aerial view of Temple of the Sim, Stonehenge 232-33
Part O ne: A Guide to the Anticlassical Code
Introduction: Speaking Architecture
In 1964 John Summerson published a short book entitled The Classical Language of Architecture, which has been very successful throughout the world. I waited a decade for its logical and neces sary sequel, "The Anticlassical Language of Architecture" or, rather, "The Modern Language of Architecture," but neither Sum merson nor anyone else wrote it. W hy not? One can imagine a host of daunting reasons. Nevertheless the gap needs filling. It is the m ost urgent task facing architectural history and criticism today. It cannot be postponed, it is already long overdue.
W ithout a language, we cannot speak. W hat is more, it is lan guage that "speaks us," in the sense that it provides the instru ments of communication without which it would be impossible even to work out our thoughts. Yet in the course of centuries only one architectural language has been codified, that of classi cism. N one other has been processed and put into the systematic form required of an acknowledged language. All were considered exceptions to the rule, the classical rule, and not alternatives to it, w ith a life of their own. Even modern architecture, which emerged in reaction against neoclassicism, runs the risk of revert ing to stale Beaux-Arts archetypes unless it is structured into a language.
This is an incredible and absurd situation. W e are squandering a colossal heritage of expression because we shirk the responsibil ity of transcribing it and making it transmissible. It may not be very long before we forget how to speak architecture at all. Indeed, most people who are designing and building today can barely mumble. They utter inarticulate meaningless sounds that carry no message. They do not know how to speak. They say nothing and have nothing to say. There is an even more serious danger facing us. If the modern movement is ever jettisoned, we may
3
4 The Modern Language of Architecture
no longer be able to read the images of any architects who have spoken a language o ther than classicism: the images of the Stone Age, late an tiqu ity and the M iddle Ages, the w orks of the M an nerists, M ichelangelo, Borromini, the A rts and C rafts m ovem ent and A rt N ouveau, W right, Loos, Le C orbusier, G ropius, Mies, A alto, Scharoun, and the younger men from Johansen to Safdie.
N obody uses the classical orders today. But classicism is a state of m ind th a t goes beyond the "o rders" and stultifies even those discourses w hich are u ttered using anticlassical nouns and verbs. The B eaux-A rts system actually codified G othic, th en Rom an esque, Baroque, Egyptian, Japanese, and finally m odern architec ture by a very sim ple expedient: it pu t them on ice by classicizing their free structure. Surely, if it should prove im possible to form u late the m odern idiom in tru ly dynam ic fashion, it w ould go the same suicidal w ay, w hich is w hat m ore than one w retched critic a n d /o r architect w ishes w ould happen.
It is therefore essential th a t we try to codify the m odern lan guage at once, w ith o u t looking for a priori so lu tions to all the theoretical problem s involved. A bstract theories are o ften an alibi for fu rther delays. D ozens of books and hundreds of essays have discussed the question of w hether or no t arch itecture can be treated as a language, w hether nonverbal languages have a double articulation (or dual pattern ing), and w hether the a ttem p t at codi fying m odern architecture m ight no t block its developm ent. Se miology is certainly essential, bu t by itself it cannot solve architec tural problem s. For better or worse, architects com m unicate. A nd the fact rem ains th a t they speak architecture, w hether it is a language or not. T hus we m ust set dow n precisely w h at it implies to speak architecture in an anticlassical key. If we can do this, the theoretical apparatus will come by itself as we proceed w ith our w ork.
There are thousands of architects and studen ts of architecture designing w ithou t know ing the vocabulary, the gram m ar, and the syntax of the contem porary language, w hich are, in fact, a k ind of antivocabulary , antigram m ar, and an tisyn tax in relation to classicism. Critical judgm ents are being m ade on tw o levels, in the profession and in the schools. But w hat standards are used? And are they legitim ate? This is the challenge th a t faces us, both
Introduction 5
as producers and as consum ers of architecture. If we are going to understand one another, we m ust use the same term s and agree on the ir m eaning. The problem seems enorm ous only be cause it has been so little investigated until now .
O urs is an in ten tionally provocative goal: to establish a series of " invariab les" in the m odern language of architecture, based on the m ost significant and challenging buildings. A question m ight arise. Some code is indispensable in verbal com m unication; o therw ise there is a danger of not com m unicating at all. In archi tecture, how ever, anyone can dispense w ith it at will, w ithou t having to give up building for this reason. O f course, he can design even in B abylonian style if he w ants to, bu t all he can com m unicate are his ow n neuroses.
I have discussed the question of architectural language w ith scholars, practicing architects, and m ost o ften w ith anxious and confused students, qu ite bew ildered by the fact th a t nobody teaches them an idiom they can speak. A single conclusion came out of these conversations: although there are excellent excuses for no t facing such a difficult and painful problem , the present im passe m ust be overcom e and a beginning made.
This book is even shorter than Sum m erson's. O n ly seven invari ables are analyzed. O ne could add ten m ore, or tw en ty , or fifty, so long as they do not contradict the first seven. The validity of this approach m ust be tested on the draw ing board and on real buildings. Everyone can set about checking this "basic lan guage." A nd it should come as no surprise that, ou t of a hundred buildings erected now adays, n inety prove to be altogether anach ronistic w orks tha t belong som ew here betw een the Renaissance and B eaux-A rts, w hile eight have some incoheren t elem ents of m odern "s ty le ," and, in the best of circum stances, m aybe two are m erely ungram m atical, tha t is to say, they do no t speak the old language, bu t neither do they speak the new one. A nd that is not all. Even the great m asters of the m odern m ovem ent have som etim es produced regressive classicist works. T hus one cannot help asking, w hat k ind of language is this, if no one or very few people can speak it? Let me answ er w ith ano ther question: how could the m odern language of architecture be w idely spoken w ithout a code?
6 The Modern Language of Architecture
These pages have the same goal as any o ther heretical act: to arouse dissent. If they provoke argum ent, they will have achieved their aim. Instead of talking endlessly about architecture, we shall finally begin to speak architecture.*
1. The dictatorship of the straight line (cartoon by Mauris). It is responsible for the mania of parallels, proportions, chessboard layouts, and right angles— the lexicon, grammar, and syntax of classicism. The monuments of so-called “clas sical" antiquity have been manhandled to conform to this abstract a priori ideology.
* Four years after the publication of the Italian edition of this book, a most amusing essay by Charles Jencks has been published w ith the title The Language of Post-Modern Architecture (New York: Rizzoli, 1977). It shows tha t the post-m odern, opposing the m odem , goes back to the pre-m odem , tha t is, to academic classicism. Perhaps this book should be retitled, "The Post-Post-M odern Language of A rchitecture."
I
Listing as Design Methodology
The list, or inventory , of functions is the generating principle of the m odern language in architecture, and it subsum es all o ther principles. Listing m arks the ethical and operational dividing line betw een those w ho speak in m odern term s and those w ho chew on dead languages. Every error, every involution , every p sycho logical lapse and m ental block at the draw ing table can be traced back, w ith o u t exception, to a failure to respect this principle. Therefore it is the basic invariable of the contem porary code.
Im plicit in listing, or compiling an inventory of functions, is the d ism antling and critical rejection of classical rules, “ o rd e rs / ' a priori assum ptions, set phrases, and conventions of every type and kind. T he inventory springs from an act of cultural ann ih ila tion— w hat R oland Barthes calls “ the zero degree of w riting"— and leads to a rejection of all traditional norm s and canons. It dem ands a new beginning, as if no linguistic system had ever existed before, as if it w ere the first tim e in h istory th a t we had to build a house or a city.
The list is an ethical principle even before it becomes an opera tional one. Indeed, w ith trem endous effort and im m ense joy, we m ust strip aw ay the cultural taboos we have inherited. W e m ust track them dow n one by one in our m inds and desanctify them . For the m odern architect, the paralyzing taboos are dogm as, con ventions, inertia, all the dead w eight accum ulated during centuries of classicism. By destroying every institu tionalized m odel, he can break free from idolatry. He can reconstruct and relive the w hole process of m an 's form ation and developm ent, realizing th a t more than once in the course of the millennia, architects have w iped
7
8 The Modern Language of Architecture
the slate clean and erased every gram m atical and syntactical rule. In fact, genuinely creative spirits have alw ays started from scratch. The m odern revolution is no t unprecedented or apocalyptic. There has been a recurrent struggle against repressive bonds th roughou t the ages.
Listing, going back to the zero degree, m akes you re th ink archi tectural sem antics. In the beginning, verbs and conjunctions m ust be elim inated. W ords can no longer be used unless the ir content and m eaning have been analyzed in depth . Some exam ples will get us to the heart of this m ethodology of design.
W indow s. In the classical tradition a m odule is selected for the openings of a Renaissance or pseudo-R enaissance building. T hen the sequence of m odules is exam ined, along w ith the rela tionsh ip betw een full and em pty surface areas. Finally, the ho ri zontal and vertical alignm ents, tha t is, the superim position of the orders, are established. Fortunately the m odern architect is free of these form alistic concerns. He is engaged in a m ore com plex and rew arding task of resem anticization. First of all, no repetitive m odules. Every w indow is a w ord th a t stands for itself, w hat it m eans and w hat it does. It is no t som ething to be aligned or proportioned. It m ay be any shape— rectangular, square, round, elliptical, triangular, com posite, or free profile. D epending on the room it m ust light, the w indow m ay be any th ing from a long narrow strip at ceiling or floor level to a cut in the wall or a running band at eye level: w hatever m ay be desired or considered suitable after calculating the specific w indow 's function room by room. There is no reason w hy every w indow in a bu ild ing should be just like the next one and not have a character of its own. O nce you get rid of the ty ranny of classicism, w indow s will be all the m ore effective if they are different and can convey a host of messages.
Classicism breaks the fagade into vertical and horizontal sec tions. But elim inating the juxtaposition and superim position of m odules will m ake the fagade w hole again. W h a t is far more im portan t, the fagade will become unßnished. W hen the openings— high or low, straight or crooked— are no longer regulated by axial relationships, the fagade will cease to be closed and aloof, an end in itself, and begin talking to its surroundings. It w ill stop
2. The m ethodology of listing functions, applied to windows. Classicism, w hether old classicism (above) or the pseudomodern (center), is concerned w ith the module, its repetition, the relationship between full and em pty spaces, and alignment. It is concerned w ith everything except windows. Listing gives back to every element its specific meaning (below) and then assembles the various elements.
10 The Modern Language of Architecture
being extraneous and hostile and start taking an active part in the city—or landscape.
W indow s are no t an appropriate exam ple in discussing m odern architecture because, as we will see later, the principle of func tional listing precludes the very idea of "fagade." N evertheless, w hen an architect w orks in urban fabrics conceived according to preordained schemes and volum es, he is forced to design fa cades. But th a t is no reason to give up the m odern language. The m inute he differentiates w indow s by form and position, he has done aw ay w ith the traditional fagade and its classical conno tations. Indeed, he can inject new life in to it by m aking some w indow s pro trude and others recede, by playing w ith the th ick ness of the wall to create a fram e of shadow around the glass or, on the contrary, to bring the glass forw ard in to the blaze of light. A nd w hy not slant the w indow s to the surface of the fagade? O ne w indow can tilt down, focusing on a square, a tree, or a doorw ay across the street. A nother can tu rn up, fram ing a piece of sky. A w indow can be slanted left or right to catch panoram ic views, a section of street, a m onum ent, or the sea. W indow s can be conceived w ith a w ealth of angles, so th a t their surfaces are never parallel to the building front.
Even w hen lim ited to the detail of w indow s, the principle of functional listing challenges the classical approach to the fagade, takes aw ay its "fin ished" look, and breaks its square fram e by fragm enting the corners of the building and m aybe the line b e tw een top floor and roof. A double aim is achieved: alternate lighting solutions in the interiors and heightened expressive quali ties on the outside.
I can im agine tw o objections, one of sim ple d ism ay and the o ther of ideological alibis m asking dism ay. The first objection is that a frightening am ount of w ork is involved in th is procedure: if the outline and position of every w indow have to be though t out separately, the design of a ten -w indow fagade is going to take too m uch tim e and energy, far out of p roportion to the rew ards. The second objection is th a t such a m ethod m ay lead to an "academ y of m isrule," to the trium ph of arbitrariness.
The answ er to the first objection is tha t it is largely true. The only correct w ay to design a w indow is to s tudy the space it
Listing as Design Methodolog}/ 11
lights, for the perceptual and behavioral value of any space de pends on how it is lighted. The fact is th a t spaces and volumes, the w hole build ing, have to be planned before it is decided w hat shapes o f w indow to choose. Is m odern architecture hard? Proba bly, b u t it is sp lendid because every elem ent, every w ord of it, is related to a social content. If it were easy, m ost of the buildings pu t up today w ould be tru ly m odern. Suffice it to look at their w indow s to realize tha t they are quite often the product of aca demic irresponsibility .
As to the second objection, tha t the m odern language of archi tecture tends to be arbitrary: on the contrary, classicism is totally arbitrary , in so far as it gives m ythical value to abstract orders tha t repress freedom and social behavior. Does functional listing lead to disorder? Yes, to sacrosanct disorder th a t drives ou t idola trous order and the taboos im posed by standardized and alienating mass production . The listing m ethod rejects the products of neo capitalist industry , just as W illiam M orris rejected paleocapitalist products in the second half of the n ine teen th century . Industry too o ften prom otes sameness; it categorizes, standardizes, and classicizes. R ecent skyscrapers w ith their curtain walls are more static, boxy, and m onolithic than those built fifty years ago. You can see it from the w indow s as well.
The tw o objections betray troubled psychological origins. The m odern language increases the possibilities of choice, w hile classi cal architecture reduces them . Choice creates anguish, a neurotic “ anxiety for certa in ty .“ W hat is to be done? There are no tranqu il izers for this ailm ent. But are there in o ther areas? Does not abstract pain ting arouse a similar anguish? W hat about dodeca phonic and aleatory or accidental music? A nd conceptual art? Is it no t anguishing to look at oneself in the m irror for the first time and recognize oneself in an image outside oneself, or to learn th a t the earth rotates even though it seems to be standing still? Fear of freedom and horror of irrational im pulses are at the bo ttom of this anguish. Let us suppose for a m om ent that, in a given building, w indow s could be alike or different w ithout altering their function in any way. The m odern language says, let them be different, let there be more choices. T he classical code dictates th a t they all be alike, they m ust be orderly— like
12 The Modern Language of Architecture
corpses. But the hypo thesis tha t they may be equally functional is absurd , really arbitrary . This merely confirms an established fact, bu t one th a t is very hard to instill in the m inds of architects: w hat seem s rational and logical, because it is regulated and or dered, is hum anly and socially foolish; it m akes sense only in term s of despotic pow er. W hat is presum ed irrational, on the o ther hand , is generally the result of th ink ing th ings th rough and courageously granting the im agination its rights. Classicism is fine for cem eteries, no t for life. O nly death can resolve the "anx ie ty of certa in ty ."
W hat has been said abou t w indow s should be repeated for every aspect of design on any scale: volum es and spaces, their in terrelationships, u rban complexes, and regional planning. The invariable is alw ays the functional list. W hy should a room be cubical or prism atic, instead of free form and harm onious w ith its uses? W hy should a group of rooms form a sim ple box? W hy m ust a build ing be conceived as the w rapping for a lot of small boxes packed inside a larger box? W hy should it be closed in on itself, m aking a sharp d istinction betw een the architectural cavities and the urban or natural landscape? W hy m ust all the room s in an apartm en t be the same height? And so on. T he invari able of m odern language consists in w hys and w h at-fo rs, in not subm itting to a priori laws, in re th inking every conventional s ta te m ent, and in the system atic developm ent and verification of new hypotheses. A will to be free of idolatrous precepts is the m ain spring of m odern architecture, beginning w ith Le C orbusier's fa m ous five principles: the "free" plan, the "free" facade, th e pilotis tha t leave the ground "free" under the building, the roof garden tha t im plies the "free" use of the top of the build ing, and even the strip w indow , in so far as it offers fu rther evidence th a t the facade is "free" of structural elements.
The list approach continually makes a clean start. It verifies and challenges even the five principles, as Le C orbusier him self did in his later years, from Roncham p on. Indeed, his earlier "p u r ism " im posed heavy design restrictions, because the plan was "free" only w ith in the perim eter of a "p u re" geom etric figure. W hy should we sanctify geom etry, or straight lines, or right an gles? T he functional list says no to these prescrip tions as well.
Listing as Design Methodology 13
It affects con ten t and form, individual ethics and collective life, just as language does.
The follow ing chapters exam ine o ther applications of th is in variable. There is no m odern architecture outside the list process. The rest is fraud, classicist or pseudom odern. It is a crime, w hen there is a proper language of architecture to speak.
3. The methodology of listing functions, applied to volumes. Old and pseudo modem classicism boxes man's activities, ignoring their specific differences. Then it sets the boxes above and beside each other to form a larger box (left). Listing gives meaning back to volumes, groups them, but preserving their individuality (right).
4. W here to hang a picture. Anywhere except in the middle of a wall (above). W here to put a door. Anywhere except in the middle (center). The farther the door is from the middle, the deeper the room will look (center, below). The corner door is the ideal: it enhances the diagonal (below).
II
Asym m etry and Dissonance
W here then? Anywhere else. W hen you criticize som ething for being sym m etrically arranged, and you are asked w here else to pu t it, your answ er should be: anywhere else. There is only one place tha t is radically w rong, the place that is selected “ sp o n tan eo u sly /' dredging up all the atavistic conventions of the subconscious.
W e can take an even sim pler exam ple th an the w indow to dem onstrate this, a picture. Here is a wall. W here shall we hang the picture? In the center, of course. No, anywhere else. To the right or left, higher up or lower dow n, anyw here bu t there. If you hang the picture in the middle, it splits the wall into tw o equal parts. It reduces the visual dim ensions and m akes them trivial. The p icture seems to be framed and isolated by the wall, w hen it could open up the room and give it b reath ing space.
Sym m etry is one of the invariables of classicism. Therefore asym m etry is an invariable of the m odern language. O nce you get rid of the fetish of sym m etry, you will have taken a giant step on the road to a dem ocratic architecture.
Sym m etry = economic w aste + intellectual cynicism . A ny time you see a house consisting of a central core w ith tw o sym m etrical lateral extensions you can reject it out of hand. W hat is in the left wing? The living room, perhaps. A nd in the right one? Bed rooms and bathroom s. Is there any conceivable reason w hy the tw o enveloping volum es should be identical? The architect w asted space by enlarging the living room to m ake it the same size as the bedroom s. O r else he restricted essential functions of the sleeping area to keep it the same size as the living room . And look at the height of the ceilings. W hy should a vast living room
15
5. Rome, Piazza Venezia. The old narrow square (above) could have accommodated an evocative m onum ent like Le Corbusier's "O pen H and" (second row, left). Instead it was blasted open to make room for the pharaonic Victor Emmanuel M onum ent (right and third row). O f course, no asym metry was allowed (below).
Asym m etry and Dissonance 17
have a low ceiling? O n the o ther hand, if the bedroom ceiling is too high, the space seems visually cram ped and suffocating. It is a flagrant w aste, bo th econom ically and esthetically; a double in jury and a double sacrifice. O n the altar of w h a t taboo is this sacrifice laid? O n the altar of sym m etry.
Sym m etry = a spasm odic need for security, fear of flexibil ity, indeterm ination , relativity , and g row th— in short, fear of living. The schizophrenic cannot bear the tem poral aspect of liv ing. To keep his anguish under control, he requires im m obility. Classicism is the architecture of conform ist schizophrenia. Sym m etry = passivity or, in Freudian term s, hom osexuality . This is explained by psychoanalysts. Homologous parts instead of heteronymous parts. It is infantile fear of the fa ther— the academ y, in this case, is a fa ther figure, protective of the cow ardly child— w ho will castrate you if you attack a he teronym ous figure, the w om an, the m other. As soon as one becomes passive and accepts sym m etry, the anguish seems to subside, because the father no longer threatens, he possesses.
Perhaps the w hole h istory of architecture could be reread in term s of sym m etry neurosis. C ertainly th a t of W estern architec ture could be. It is no accident, for exam ple, th a t Italy was the first country to revive the w orship of this idol during the R enais sance, while o ther countries continued to develop the G othic style. The econom y of the Italian peninsula was going th rough a severe crisis w hich the dom inant classes tried to conceal beh ind a classi cist mask. They evoked the G reco-Rom an past in a m ythical key in order to camouflage the instability of the present. T hey assum ed a courtly, forbidding, or O lym pian air to hide the desolation of society. It has alw ays been like that: sym m etry is the facade of sham pow er trying to appear invulnerable. The public buildings of Fascism, Nazism, and Stalinist Russia are all sym m etrical. Those of South Am erican d ictatorships are sym m etrical. Those of th eo cratic institu tions are sym m etrical; they often have a double sym m etry. Can you im agine an asym m etrical V ictor Em m anuel M on um ent in Rome, out of balance, varied in its parts, w ith an equestrian statue to the left or right ra ther than in the center? A n Italy capable of building that kind of m onum ent w ould have been another k ind of nation , one com m itted to the creation of
18 The Modern Language of Architecture
a dem ocratic state adm inistration , an efficient service sector, a society balanced betw een northern and sou thern regions and based on justice. As a m atter of fact, such a country w ould not have w asted public funds on a m arble m onstrosity like the Victor Em m anuel M onum ent. Such a society w ould not have disfigured the Piazza Venezia w ith som ething tha t m ade its proportions so trivial, by m oving the Palazzetto Venezia and tearing dow n the Palazzo Torlonia; in short, ruining not only an architectural hub but the w hole tow nscape of Rome. It w ould have used the m oney to build low er-class housing, schools, and libraries and to reform agriculture and public health facilities. The Victor Em m anuel M onum ent reflects the fragility of a backw ard nation tha t p re tends to be progressive by striking a trium phan t, m onum ental, arrogant, and bom bastic attitude. The flame of the U nknow n Sol dier at the foot of the Arc de Triom phe in Paris and the C enotaph in London pale in m odesty before this horror, w hose sym m etry rises to titanic heights of wickedness.
There are sym m etrical buildings th a t are no t rhetorical, bu t all rhetorical buildings— sym bols of to talitarian pow er or products of sloth and cynicism — are sym m etrical. O n closer exam ination, m oreover, nonrhetorical sym m etrical buildings prove to be only partially sym m etrical, generally only on the m ain front. This leads to another observation: sym m etry has been used in the m ost o b scene w ay to deform and falsify the arrangem ent of historic m on um ents. The m ost striking example: the Propylaea of the A thenian Acropolis. These have a blasphem ously asym m etric plan; bu t since the Ecole des B eaux-A rts could no t adm it th a t such a here t ical structure stood at the very entrance to the sanctuary of classi cism, M nesicles' w ork was displayed as if it were sym m etrical. W hy? Because in a m om ent of m ental aberration the Greeks had m ade a m istake, and it had to be corrected. A nother example: the E rechtheum , a qu ite irregular and asym m etrical building, so "m odern" th a t in a w ay it is a forerunner of A dolf Loos's m ultilev- eled R aum plan. W hat w eight did the E rechtheum carry in the Beaux-A rts doctrine? None. It was no t sym m etrical, so it could serve no purpose.
Take a room , for example. W here should the entrance door be? A nyw here, just so long as it is no t in the m iddle of a wall.
6. How to light a room. Not in the middle (above). Any other arrangement would be better: corner window, strip window, double strip (center). In the Rome railway station, a double glass strip provides light for the offices (below, left), but a greater variety of shapes would have been preferable (right).
20 The Modern Language of Architecture
T h at w ould split the space in two. W hat “ anyw here else“ really m eans is the m ost conveniently uncentral position, so tha t the diagonal can be enhanced to create the m axim um sense of depth. A nd to accent the diagonal view, w hy not detach the entrance door from the wall surface and tilt it? Fine, let us give it a specific m eaning, d ifferent from the o ther doors.
The same room . W here should the light come from? A nyw here, as long as it is no t in the center of a wall, dividing the room into three sections, an illum inated one betw een tw o areas of dark ness. Let us give each w indow new m eaning as a specific light carrier in function of the interior space. If there is no view outside, try a strip w indow at floor level, another one at the ceiling (w ith a different w id th to avoid sym m etry), and perhaps vertical strips at the corners to light the walls. In the offices of the Rom e railw ay station there are tw o strips of w indow per floor, one at desk level and one at the ceiling. This is a satisfactory arrangem ent, a lthough classicized by too m uch repetition of the m otif. W hen w indow s are installed in opposite walls, they m ust no t face each o ther directly: they will m erely light each o ther and no t the room. Take the Room of the M onths in the fam ous Palazzo Schifanoia in Ferrara. Every w indow faces a full panel on the o ther side of the room , thus providing m agnificent lighting for the m arvelous Este frescoes.
Sym m etry is a single, though macroscopic, sym ptom of a tum or w hose cells have m etastasized everyw here in geom etry. The h is tory of cities could be in terpreted as the clash betw een geom etry (an invariable of dictatorial or bureaucratic pow er) and free form s (w hich are congenial to hum an life). For hundreds of thousands of years the paleolithic com m unity was ignorant of geom etry. But as soon as neolithic settlem ents began and hun te r-cu ltiva to rs were subjected to a tribal chief, the chessboard m ade its appear ance. Political absolutism im poses geom etry, and abso lu tist gov ernm ents regim ent the urban structure by establish ing axes and then m ore axes, either parallel to each o ther or in tersecting at right angles. Barracks, prisons, and m ilitary installations are rig idly geom etrical. C itizens are no t allow ed to m ake a natu ral curved turn ing to the left or the right. They m ust spring round 90 degrees
Asymmetry and Dissonance 21
like m arionettes. The plans of new cities are generally laid out on a grillw ork. There have been exceptional cases of cities de signed on hexagonal or triangular schemes, bu t they have never left the draw ing board. N ew York is a chessboard, w ith Broadway the only diagonal. Im perial Paris is based on bru tal slashes that sadistically gashed the pre-existing popular fabric of the city. Latin A m erica w as colonized w ith perem ptory laws th a t im posed a priori geom etrical form s on cities, w hatever their natural topog raphy m ight have been.
Cities, and especially capitals, are regular victim s of geom etrical operations. T hey survive only because their grow th outdistances adm inistrative and political prescriptions. Small tow ns, on the contrary, and particularly rural tow ns, are no t usually geometrical, bu t M afia-run settlem ents in rural Sicily show m ercilessly rigor ous geom etry.
This age-old cancer, w ith such illustrious rem issions as m edie val civilization and country villages, can be ex tirpated only w ith an iron will. A rchitects are so influenced by inhum an and artificial geom etry th a t it seems “ natu ral” and “ spon taneous” to them. T hey know no o ther language. A nd this ancestral disease is nou r ished by the very tools of design: T-squares, com passes, drafting m achines. They serve to draw parallel lines, parallel walls, parallel rooms, parallel streets, and right-angled intersections: a world perfectly enclosed in rectangles and prism s, a w orld easily kept under guard by rifle or m achine gun. Coffins package corpses, bu t being trapezoidal in form they are closer to the shape of their contents. Living men do no t even have th a t concession. They are cynically boxed in abstract and inorganic form s.
At the end of the M iddle Ages the taste for freedom from regular geom etry, w hich coincided em blem atically w ith the taste for liberty pure and simple, disappeared. Buildings like the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence and groups of buildings like those in Siena and Perugia look today like som ething from outer space. Present- day architects could not design them ; the language they use will not let them . To re-educate architects, T -squares m ust be banned, along w ith com passes and all the equipm ent th a t is laid ou t as a function of the gram m ar and syntax of classical architecture.
22 The Modern Language of Architecture
A ntigeom etry and free form, and therefore asym m etry and an ti parallelism , are invariables of the m odern language of architecture. They m ark em ancipation through dissonance.
Schoenberg w rote th a t dissonance should not be considered a p iquant seasoning for tasteless sounds. D issonances are logical com ponents of a new organism th a t has the same vitality as the prototypes of the past. Schoenberg discovered th a t m usic freed from a tonic, or a harm onic center, was fully com prehensible and capable of evoking em otions. T onality stands for sym m etry, proportion, consonance, and geom etry. Too m any architects have not yet learned th is lesson.
7. It would be extremely difficult to represent a medieval urban layout (for exam ple, Siena's Piazza del Campo) using T-squares, compasses, and drafting machines. These tools are good only for boxy architecture, which can easily be represented in perspective.
Ill
Antiperspective Three-Dimensionality
The hecatom b took place in the early fifteenth century . It was the trium ph of perspective. A rchitects stopped w orking concretely on architecture and lim ited them selves to designing it. The dam ages w ere enorm ous; they have increased th rough the following centuries; and they continue to proliferate w ith industrialized building techniques. There is probably no th ing com parable in o ther areas of hum an activity. A n alm ost unbridgeable chasm has opened up betw een architects and architecture. It is no w onder th a t qu ite a few architects have no idea w hat architecture is.
Perspective is a draw ing technique for representing th ree -d i m ensional objects on a tw o-dim ensional surface. To m ake the job easier, buildings were broken dow n in to squared parts and reduced to regular prisms. An im m ense visual heritage of curves, asym m etric form s, sw erving lines, m odulations, and angles o ther than 90-degree was obliterated in one fell swoop. The w orld was turned in to boxes, and the architectural "o rders" were used to d istinguish superim posed or juxtaposed parts of the box.
W hat perspective should have done was provide a m eans of acquiring greater aw areness of th ree-d im ensionality . Instead it rigidified th ree-d im ensionality to such a degree th a t draw ing it has becom e som ething m echanical and alm ost useless. It is a sym ptom atic proof of w hat linguists m aintain: it is no t we who speak a language; it is language tha t "speaks us." W e cannot even th ink w ithou t a code. The perspective-based revival of clas sicism drastically im poverished the architectural language. Instead of inventing spaces for hum an life, packages w ere designed. W ith
23
24 The Modern Language of Architecture
perspective, it was no longer architecture bu t its container th a t was dom inant.
In theory, perspective should have provided an instrum ent to enhance depth . It m ight have expected to enrich the representation of volum es by the use of dram atic foreshortening. To th a t end, the corner view of a building should have becom e the driving force in order to pull it ou t of isolation and bring it in to close relationship w ith the urban environm ent. Take, for instance, the Palazzo Farnese in Rome. It is a box, and it could not be any th ing else w ith the language of perspective. Yet its walls, if oblique, m ight have led the eye off in a series of dynam ic vistas. O f course the palace's corners w ould have been to tally different. The one facing the square should have been a clarion note, w hile the o thers w ould have been m uted to m aintain the sm ooth flow of streets.
O bviously , no th ing of the sort was done. The Farnese Palace does no t com m unicate any stereom etric reality. It is b roken up into a m ain facade, heavy flanks on the small side streets, and an alm ost independen t second fagade at the rear. T he volum e is self-contained, finished, and lacking in any in terp lay w ith its surroundings. It looks as if it had been ca tapulted in to the square, and the only w ay it can be appreciated as a th ree-d im ensional object is from the air. T he fagades have identical corners, the hara-kiri of perspective.
A lthough perspective was in troduced in the nam e of th ree- d im ensionality , it was usually applied to central fram ing, tha t is, tw o-dim ensionally . Look at any Renaissance or classical street: a fissure betw een building walls and a procession of flat fagades. W here has th ree-d im ensionality gone? W here are the volum es? W hat sense was there in destroying the glorious heritage of m edie val architecture, w hich was full of stereom etric unboxed m es sages? C onsider political and social h istory , and you will find an answer.
As w ith geom etry, there w ould seem to be little hope of con quering the virus of perspective that has infected the body of architecture in its m ost in tim ate fiber. In this case, how ever, the m odern code has deep roots th a t go right back to the fifteenth century. From M annerism on, art has tended to overm aster p er spective vision, and avan t-garde m ovem ents from Im pressionism
8. The three-dim ensional quality of Rome's Palazzo Farnese would have been enhanced if the building had been set at an angle to the square (above). Instead it appears as a two-dim ensional wall (center). In designing the Piazza del Campido- glio, Michelangelo rejected parallelism and traditional perspective (below, left) and turned the perspective trapezoid upside down (right).
26 The Modern Language of Architecture
to A rt Informel have speeded up the process. A rchitecture has lag ged behind painting and sculpture: perspective has been more refractory, and it still corrupts an infinite num ber of buildings that are o therw ise m odern. A little know ledge of h istory is suffi cient to realize th a t all true architects have been fighting perspec tive since the crisis of 1527. It is tim e to bring the battle to an end.
At the close of the fifteenth century there was Biagio Rossetti, the m an w ho laid ou t Ferrara, " th e first m odern European city," as Jacob B urckhardt called it. Rossetti was no t a fam ous artist, and tha t is w hy he understood the fundam ental needs of a city, som ething the great architects did not grasp because they were involved w ith a science of optics tha t centered alm ost exclusively on single buildings. W hat was the discovery m ade by this m odest craftsm an w ho created Ferrara w ithou t even m aking drawings? Simply th a t if buildings have to belong to a context, they m ust not be sym m etrical, self-sufficient, or finished-looking. T he corner views are the keynotes th a t set the tone of any tow nscape. The rest comes by itself. In laying out the Addizione Erculea, the expan sion of the Ferrara city area, Rossetti concentrated on the buildings at street intersections and em phasized their corners. T his is the only Renaissance urban com plex though t ou t in term s of con cretely th ree-d im ensional perspective. Yet th ree and a half cen tu ries later, Baron H aussm ann 's Paris was conceived in term s of facades, no t corners.
M ichelangelo was another extraordinary m an w ho defied cen tral perspective. In the piazza of the C am pidoglio he scorned the prevailing code, grasped the space and held it firm, violating the canons of elem entary geom etry. He tu rned a rectangle into a trapezoid th a t was the obverse of the perspective trapezoid, and he negated the parallelism of the tw o palaces flanking the square, even though they are identical. It was an incredible achievem ent, bu t its message was ignored. M ichelangelo is the m ost fam ous genius in the history of art. His w orks are adm ired, m easured, and copied. In M ontreal there is a half-scale copy of St. Peter's. The C am pidoglio is an obligatory stop on the itinerary of millions of tourists and of all cultivated architects. But how m any of them , reassured by this explosive precedent, have had
Antiperspective Three-Dimensionality 27
the courage to arrange tw o facing structures in nonparallel fashion?
Let us m ake passing reference to another overw helm ing work of M ichelangelo, the 1529 draw ings for the fortifications of Flor ence. There is an unheard -o f th rust of spaces w ith in and w ithout these walls, w ith em bankm ents and ram parts driving in to the surrounding landscape. There are no parallel lines in these struc tural profiles, tw isting and turn ing in their function of static resist ance against the double th rust of aggressive spaces. For four cen tu ries no one has ever looked at these draw ings, no one has "discovered" them , although they were perfectly well know n. In term s of architectural language, of a new and revolutionary code, no use was ever m ade of them . W hy?
M ichelangelo 's idiom was never form alized, so no one could speak it. W hat was worse, no one could understand w hat M i chelangelo was saying. Thus, his lesson was wasted. Let me repeat, the codification of the m odern language of architecture is the sine qua non if one is to speak architecture today or understand the true m eaning of w orks of the past th a t have been counterfeited by classicist in terpretation . This is the crux of the m atter. M odern architecture coincides w ith the m odern w ay of looking at the architecture of the past. O ne can w rite in a new key if one can read in a new key, and vice versa. This m akes the contem porary language an instrum ent of form idable pow er even in term s of historiography.
O ne m ight object: if the classical language is the only one that has been codified, how is it possible to com m unicate in an anticlas- sical idiom? V erbal languages do not undergo such sudden and radical revolutions th a t you find yourself speaking one w ay today and another tom orrow . Furtherm ore, how can we establish a new architectural code on the scanty basis of a few w orks by some artists w ho, am ong o ther things, o ften accepted sym m etry , geo m etrical schemes, consonance, and perspective system s? Is it not sim ply a pipe dream?
No. T he m odern language of architecture was no t born su d denly in 1859 w ith W illiam M orris' Red H ouse. It does no t use incom prehensible codes. Its messages are w idely anticipated in Eclecticism, the Baroque, and the Renaissance itself, as we have
28 The Modern Language of Architecture
seen, as well as the epic works of the Middle Ages, the late Roman period, Greece (the real Hellenic world, not the one defiled by Beaux-Arts hermeneutics), and as far back as the paleolithic age. Although the only formalized code is that of classicism, we are not powerless against it. The facts of history are on our side, for we know that there is not a single monument of the past
9. Once an architect has a T-square in his hand, he can no longer th ink architec ture. He can only think about drawing it. It is the perspective language that begins "speaking him ." It forces him to design in terms of boxes and prismatic orders piled on top of each other, w hether they be Renaissance palaces or the grotesque "Square Colosseum" in the Fascist EUR quarter of Rome.
Antiperspective Three-Dimensionality 29
that obeys the classical code, and not even one Greek temple has the proportions institutionalized in the abstract idea of the "Greek temple." The so-called "classical" civilizations were not classical at all, not by a long shot. The great masters whose works provided the basis for the classical code would be the first to deny it in practice. Was Bramante classical? Was Palladio classical? Was Vignola a true classicist?
The fact that W right, Le Corbusier, Gropius, Mies van der Rohe, Aalto, and other masters of the modern movement have sometimes adopted classical elements (usually removing them from their classical context, however) is not disturbing. The new language of architecture, which developed in dialectical opposi tion to Beaux-Arts idolatry, had to take the enemy's strategy into account. The relationship between the two is somewhat simi lar to that between the Italian language and Latin (although m od ern architecture is not at all derived from classicism). In the first centuries of our era, the vernacular was mixed with Latin words, and Latin was "corrupted" by vulgar terms. As time went on, Latin became progressively less Latin, and the structure of the code was vulgar. Latin came back into fashion in the fifteenth century, at the same time that perspective appeared and for similar reasons. The code of literary Latin was revived and seemed to prevail. But in that very moment it committed suicide, because the operation was antihistorical, repressive, and absurd.
10. Erich Mendelsohn's sketch for a movie industry (1917). On the top right, three helicoidal bodies similar to the Guggenheim Museum by Frank Lloyd Wright. Mendelsohn's images do not use the Cubist four-dimensionality, but they exalt the principle of movement through corner visions and dynamic materials.
30 The Modern Language of Architecture
Have m odern m asters built some sym m etrical and perspective buildings? A distinction m ust be made. W hen G ropius, Mies, and Aalto produced them , it was an act of surrender. Lacking a m odern code, they w eakened and regressed to the fam iliar womb of classicism. The same th ing did no t happen to M endelsohn. His expressionism is so violent th a t the th ree-d im ensional per spective block destroys any static solem nity and explodes, electri fies, and m agnetizes the landscape. W here are the sym m etrical buildings by Le Corbusier? Does the Villa Savoye look sym m etri cal? Perhaps to som eone w ho has only glanced at it in a p h o to graph. A nd W right's w orks are even less sym m etrical.
Finally, m ust we really acknow ledge th a t perspective is one of the thousand alternatives possible? Fine, so long as it is chosen out of a thousand possibilities, after the advantages of the other nine hundred and n ine ty -n ine have been exam ined, and not a priori.
IV
The S yn ta x o f Four-dimensional Decomposition
De Stijl theory , the only coherent a ttem pt to draw up a code for m odern architecture, offered a rigorous procedure th a t could be applied generally. If the problem is to get rid of the perspective block, the first th ing to do is elim inate the th ird dim ension by decom posing the box, breaking it up into panels. No m ore closed volum es. W hat happens to a room? It is no longer a cubic void. There are six plans: the ceiling, four walls, and the floor. Separate the joinings, keeping the planes free; then light will penetrate even the darkest corners of the room , and its space will take on new life. A simple operation no one had though t of before, yet it w as a decisive step on the w ay to architectural em ancipation. The in terior space is still som ew hat cubical, bu t it looks com pletely d ifferent w ith this sort of lighting.
Let us follow this line of inquiry. O nce the plans are separate and independent, they can be extended beyond the perim eter of the old box and spread out, go up or dow n, and reach beyond the lim its tha t used to cut off the in terior from the exterior. House and city can be transform ed, M ondrian fashion, in to a panoram a of blue, yellow , red, w hite, and black panels. O nce the box has been dism em bered, the planes no longer form closed volum es, containers of finite spaces. Instead the room s becom e fluid and join up and flow in a m oving continuum . The static quality of classicism is replaced by a dynam ic vision, w ith the elem ent of tim e added or, if you will, w ith a fourth dim ension.
There was enough in De Stijl theory to nourish the language of architecture for decades. It w ould have been an easy step from planes to curved and w avy surfaces and free form s, w ith a w ealth
31
11. The box encloses, confining one like a coffin (above). But if we separate the box's six planes, we have performed the revolutionary act of m odern architecture (second row). The panels can be lengthened or shortened to vary the light in fluid spaces (third row). Once the box has been broken up, the spaces can perform their functions in total freedom (below).
Syntax of Four-dimensional Decomposition 33
of alternative passages from space to space. But architects did not understand this neoplastic code, and so they abandoned it w ithou t having fully explored its possibilities.
N evertheless, decom position rem ains a substan tia l invariable of the m odern idiom. In the Bauhaus com plex in D essau, for example, G ropius broke up the volum e in to three d istinct units: the dorm itory , the school, and the w orkshop. Program m atically d issonant blocks are thus linked together in defiance of perspec tive. There is no vantage point from w hich you can grasp the whole. You have to w alk around. Hence m ovem ent, hence time. It is still, as alw ays, a question of inventory ing functions. O nce the com pact box is destroyed, the functional com ponents can be d istinguished, and their messages becom e m ore specific and direct. H arm onic connections are rejected. The passages betw een the three blocks look crude and b ru tal to em phasize their dissonance.
G ropius only half understood w hat De Stijl was up to, and he did no t break up volum es into panels. O th e r architects only half understood w hat had been done at the B auhaus. The practice of breaking up volum es into sm aller functional un its was w idely adopted, especially in school buildings, w here it is easy to separate the classroom block from the gym nasium and the offices. But generally there is an attem pt to “ harm onize” the three units, to m ake them reciprocally "p roportional” and to link them up w ith "assonan t” transitions— in short, to classicize the anticlassical. H ow can one explain th a t dissonance is as fundam enta l to m odern architecture as it is to m odern music? It is w hat gives form s, w ords, and sounds their specific m eaning and m akes expressive the inventory of functions. Yet no sooner do architects get the w rapping off th an they start pu tting it back on again. W hen the classroom block, the gym nasium , and the office body are "com posed” harm oniously , we are back w ith perspective vision again, w ith a privileged vantage point.
The m ania of proportion is ano ther tum or th a t needs to be cut out. W hat is proportion? It is a device to establish a binding relationship betw een heterogeneous parts of a building. It is a neurotic longing for "syn thesis ,” preferably a priori. But if the parts are different and carry specific messages, w hy unify them
12. The decomposition of the volume block into functional prisms was carried out in the M onastery of San Filippo Neri in Rome, designed by Francesco Borro mini (above), and in W alter Gropius' Bauhaus at Dessau (below). Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, in Barcelona, broke the volume up into free panels (left, center).
Syntax of Four-dimensional Decomposition 35
through proportion and reduce the num ber of m essages to one? Fear of freedom , of grow th, and therefore of life. A ny tim e you see a "p roportioned" building, beware! Proportion freezes the vital process and m asks falsity and waste.
Mies van der Rohe is perhaps the ou tstand ing exponent of De Stijl. H is G erm an Pavilion at the Barcelona Exposition of 1929 is a m asterpiece of this architectural trend. It consists of panels in travertine and marble, glass sheets, w ater surfaces, horizontal and vertical planes th a t shatter the im m obility of closed spaces, break through volum es, and give direction to exterior vistas. This pavilion was only a beginning, w ith all its planes at right angles to each other. The system could have been enriched by getting aw ay from the right angle and m oving along inclined planes. But the pavilion w as the beginning and the end. Four-dim ensional decom position becam e a p laything, a m indless exercise suitable for designing balconies, aw nings, and some furnishings.
For clarity 's sake, let us digress for a m om ent. The m odern code is applicable in any situation , on any scale, from a chair to a h ighw ay cluster, from a spoon to a city. A n architect should not refuse any challenge. If he w aits for the ideal com m ission before "speaking" correctly, he has already given up his p rofes sion. Take a room , for exam ple, even the m ost traditional and anachronistic one. Let us start by pain ting its surfaces six different colors: yellow, red, blue, w hite, black, and ano ther color for the floor. Is it still the same room? N ow let us change the color ar rangem ent: m ake the ceiling black, and the walls blue, red, w hite, and yellow. The dark ceiling pressing dow n will m ake the room seem broader. If you w ant m ore light, the wall facing the w indow will be w hite or yellow. If you w ant less light, th a t wall can be pain ted blue or red, or even black. And let us pain t the rectangular areas over w indow s and doors right up to the ceiling, so that they become sections of the wall instead of holes. A nd w hy not use lines? All it takes is a diagonal stroke to dynam ize a surface. N ow adays supergraphic design is w ith in everybody 's reach.
O ne m ight object that these are cosmetic operations. Certainly they are, but cosmetics can be a corrective and a protest. The classical code is shot through w ith cosm etic expedients, from use less colonnades to fake w indow s. The m odern code uses cosmetics
36 The Modern Language of Architecture
as a provocation, to point out the burning need for a new trea t m ent of space.
M oreover, m odern cosmetics are neither costly nor w asteful, while the old cosm etics— w hat w ith sym m etry, proportion , and marble facing— are prohibitively expensive. C onsider the n ine teen th -cen tu ry Palazzo della Regina M argherita on the Via Veneto in Rome. C onceived in classical term s, it needed a m ajestic " fu ll ness" on top, to m ake the cornice dom inant. So an entire floor was built for th is sole purpose, a floor th a t could no t be lived in because there were no w indow s. Isn 't th a t disgraceful? After W orld W ar II, the A m ericans bought the build ing for the U nited States Embassy. T hey found th a t there was a top floor and w anted to put it to use, so they cut a series of small w indow s in the cornice. D ouble m adness: a "royal" em bassy w ith affectations of efficiency. The m odern language of architecture could no t build or even design such a building, m uch less som ething like the Victor Em m anuel M onum ent. The m odern language was born w ith social, psychological, and hum an aims, and it abhors pom p ous display and superstructures. Classical architecture is very ex pensive because it is symbolic. It m ust assert itself and suffocate the citizen.
The m ethod of decom position is an invariable. The seventh invariable, the principle of reintegration, m eans som ething only if it is the result of prior decom position. O therw ise it is no t re in te gration bu t m erely a priori classical integration.
The fourth invariable was not a 1917 discovery of the D utch De Stijl group. C onsider the San Filippo N eri M onastery in Rome. Borromini designed this enorm ous block in the seven teen th cen tury. He broke it up in to sections th a t are functional in term s of both interior spaces and cityscape. It has a concave fron t that pulls in the outside w orld. To the left is a suprem e corner, perhaps the m ost highly elaborated angle in the h istory of architecture, leading seductively in to a small side street. Facing on to it is a long opaque wall w ith alm ost casual, d issonant w indow s. But at the end of the street the Piazza dell'O rologio seem s to urge the building to send up its tow er and tease the sky w ith linear, w rought-iron arabesques. T ruly, the "m odern" structu res of the past overshadow the classical ones. Life has alw ays decom posed,
Syntax of Four-dimensional Decomposition 37
articulated, added, or subtracted. D elacroix said th a t a straight line does no t exist. Scientists tell us th a t sym m etry is no t a law of nature. Likewise, classicism does no t exist in architecture, only in B eaux-A rts m anuals and buildings th a t are copied ou t of them .
13. Eight sketches to illustrate a lecture by Frank Lloyd W right on the involvement of every architectural element in the structural scheme. Below: the Kaufmann House, Falling W ater, at Bear Run, Pennsylvania (1936—39), which incorporates all seven invariables of the modern language of architecture.
V
Cantilever, Shell, and Membrane Structures
"N ow I shall try to show you w hy organic architecture is the architecture of dem ocratic freedom . . . . H ere— say— is your box: big hole in the box, little ones if you w ish— of course. W hat you see of it now is this square package of containm ent. You see? Som ething not fit for our liberal profession of dem ocratic governm ent, a th ing essentially an ti-ind iv idual. . . . I knew enough of engineering to know th a t the outer angles of a box were no t w here its m ost econom ical support w ould be. . . . No, a certain distance in each w ay from each corner is w here the economic support of a box-build ing is invariably to be found. You see? N ow , w hen you pu t support at those points you have created a short cantileverage to the corners th a t lessens actual spans and sets the corner free or open for w hatever distance you choose. The corners disappear altogether if you choose to let space come in there, or let it go out. Instead of post and beam construc tion, the usual box building, you now have a new sense of building construction by w ay of the cantilever and continu ity . Both are new structural elem ents as they now en ter architecture. But all you see of this radical liberation of space all over the w orld today, is the corner w indow . But, in this sim ple change of though t lies the essential of the architectural change from box to free plan and the new reality tha t is space instead of m atter. . . . Let's go on. These unattached side walls becom e som ething independent, no longer enclosing walls. T hey 're separate supporting screens, any one of w hich m ay be shortened, or extended or perforated, or occasionally elim inated. . . . freedom w here before im prison m ent existed. You can perfect a figure of freedom w ith these
39
40 The Modern Language of Architecture
four screens; in any case, enclosure as a box is gone. . . . To go further: if this liberation w orks in the horizontal plane w hy w on 't it w ork in the vertical plane? No one has looked through the box at the sky up there at the upper angle, have they? W hy not? Because the box alw ays had a cornice at the top. . . . Now . . . you catch no sense of enclosure w hatever at any angle, top or sides. . . . Space m ay now go out or come in w here life is being lived, space as a com ponent of it” (Frank Lloyd W right, An American Architecture, ed. Edgar K aufm an [New York: Horizon Press, 1955], pp. 76-78). W right anticipated De Stijl syntax and got to the heart of the problem by w ay of analyzing structures.
It is elem entary reasoning to place the supports a certain dis tance in from the corners. Even a child can understand it. But how m any architects can? Look around you. M illions of supports are pu t up at the corners, cagelike structures hem m ing in space. A nd w hat about engineers? W ith few exceptions, th ey are victims of classical prejudices and m ake things sym m etrical and propor tionate. Indeed, the history of engineering is brim ful of com pro mise. A striking exam ple is the Eiffel Tow er in Paris. The four large arches at its base look as if they were m eant to support the structure, bu t they are false. The fam ous French engineer could not face the "scandal” of building the tow er in its true structural form, w ith four shafts m eeting at the top. He had to respect classical "static vision,” even denying reality . T hus he installed a large heavy beam, serving no purpose, on all four sides and hung the arches on them . The arches are supported, bu t they look as if they were doing the supporting . Classicists were satisfied w ith this typically w asteful act.
The codification of the m odern language of arch itecture implies tha t engineers as well as architects m ust shuck the chains of classi cism and bring to an end the long conflict betw een technique and expression, w hich m ust be used together in a creative fashion.
Take a prestigious in ternational figure like Pier Luigi Nervi. He produced a m asterpiece in the O rbetello hangars, w ith their m agnificent enclosed space, arching volumes, and corner elem ents that project the structure into the landscape. His T urin Exhibition Hall had splendid m odules, bu t they are repeated in the traditional way and could no t be carried through to the end walls. To finish
14. M odem structures. Above: section of the underground autom obile showroom in Turin, by Riccardo M orandi; a dirigible towing a skyscraper, by Buckminster Fuller. Center: three hyperbolic paraboloids, by Felix Candela; right: skin mem branes, by Eduardo Torroja. Below: Frei O tto 's membranes.
42 The Modern Language of Architecture
them off, an aw ful apse was built w ith pseudostructural decorative elem ents. N ervi's Palazzo del Lavoro in T urin is a thankless large box, w ith reinforced concrete colum ns com plete w ith fluting and steel capitals. All it w ould take to tu rn it in to an Egyptian temple are colossal statues of pharaohs. To com m ent on his papal aud i ence hall in the V atican w ould be superfluous. A nd the m ost tha t can be said of th a t round cake, the Palazzo dello Sport in Rome, is tha t it is right at hom e in the Fascist EUR complex designed by M arcello Piacentini, the Italian A lbert Speer. The Palazzetto dello Sport in Viale Tiziano is certainly better, bu t w hat is th a t circle of fork-shaped elem ents that supports the dome? A circular ring of prestressed reinforced concrete, the real structural link of the w hole organism , is h idden underground. And w hat is one to th ink of this m ania for domes? The sym bolism of the dom e is associated w ith godhead, idols, absolute m onarch ies, tem ple shrines, and dictatorial states. Psychologically, the dome involves security or its counterfeit because it is the classic form par excellence, com pletely closed and sym m etrical. Nervi did no t draw inspiration from the anticlassical dom es of Hagia Sophia in Istanbul or Santa M aria del Fiore in Florence, b u t from the Pantheon, and he executed a series of tours de force to reduce the thickness of the shell. W here the Pantheon piles up m atter, Nervi throw s open a row of w indow s. N evertheless, the space is still blocked, and there is no in terplay w ith the w orld outside. The security to be found in the shadow of classical idols is sim ply fear decked out in fancy trappings.
W hat happened to N ervi after the O rbetello hangars? D id his creative streak run dry? Suffice it to look at the Burgo paper plant in M antua and countless details of the buildings m entioned above to see th a t it d id not. The reason is sim pler and much more alarming. W hen Nervi speaks architecture, he speaks Latin, the classical code tha t exhausts m ost structural engineers. How m any are im m une from it? Riccardo M orandi for one, especially in his underground autom obile show room in Turin; Buckm inster Fuller, w ith his a ir-transportab le geodesic dom es and extrem ely lightw eight skyscrapers; Eduardo Torroja, w ith his M adrid Race course vaults; Felix C andela w ith his hyperbolic paraboloids; Frei O tto w ith his transparen t tensilstructures; and quite a few young
Cantilever, Shell, and Membrane 43
men w ho are slow ly sloughing off the classical code, particularly in their shell and m em brane, or plastic and com pressed air, cover ings. A rchitecture and engineering come together in these " ten ts ," w here space form s, and is form ed by, the structures.
The structural invariable of the m odern idiom is less concerned w ith cantilevers, m em branes, and shells than it is w ith involving all the architectural elem ents in a sym phony of static forces. It is well know n th a t a structure 's efficiency depends on its form and the tension of its curves. But how m any people take this principle into consideration? In an ordinary balcony, it is only the slab th a t does the structural w ork, no t the railing or parapet; hence, waste.
But look at the astonishing Falling W ater house. The cantile vered terrace seem ed so precarious to the w orkm en that they refused to take dow n the scaffolding for fear tha t the w hole thing w ould collapse. W right pulled dow n the scaffolding him self. Even in structural engineering he spoke the m odern language. He proved his w orth in w orks tha t "sensib le" people and academ i cians considered mad and suicidal.
In the build ing field, science is still in an antediluvian slumber. Enorm ous transatlan tic liners can float on w ater, w hile city bu ild ings are m ade inordinately heavy just to stand on the ground. A considerable patrim ony of structural experiences is not draw ing in terest. Sergio M usm eci said: "T he lack of technological foresight is responsible for the present crisis in architecture and is keeping it from becom ing tru ly m odern. H istory m ust be brough t up to date by m aking a leap out of the past and into the fu ture. The problem of creating form s for the fu tu re can be postponed no longer."
15. Wavy surface design by the computer of the Aerospace Division of the Boeing Company. This shape would be almost impossible to design with the architect's traditional tools: T-square, compasses, drafting machines. Computers can suggest new forms to enrich the lexicon, grammar, and syntax of architecture.
/M,0
16 . Drawings produced by the computer of the Airplane Division of the Boeing Company. They show how to depict the same object from different points of view by using com puter-directed simulators. W ith this sort of technical support, imaginative architectural designs can be verified at once from all sides.
Cantilever, Shell, and Membrane 45
Is this utopian? Not at all. It is simply an appeal to use electronic computers to solve structural and technological problems, includ ing service installations, w ith a speed and exactitude that were unattainable before. Computers are becoming more and more popular. In a few years perhaps the structural engineer as we know him, immersed in mysterious but rough calculations, will disappear. W e will have slender, lightweight, prefabricated, and portable buildings. We may no longer “go to work“ and “come home.“ Perhaps we shall just press a button, and home or office, suspended from a helicopter, may come to us, settling down wher ever we like.
The technological revolution coincides w ith the revolution in architectural language. Computers make it possible to simulate reality, not in the unilateral way perspective drawing does, but in all its visual and behavioral aspects. We can check the space of a room, its size, light, heating, and fluency. The simulator will instantly draw plans, sections, elevations; it will walk us through a building or a city; and it will be possible to compare an infinite num ber of alternate solutions. Obviously it will not guarantee that architects speak the modern language, but it will offer them the possibility of doing so, a possibility that has h ith erto been limited by the very instruments of design, T-squares and compasses. W hat is more, computers will make the design
If Ell
17. The architect of the future (cartoon in AIA Journal). He describes his idea to a secretary, who feeds the information to a computer. The machine goes to work, and a robot builds the three-dimensional structure.
46 The Modern Language of Architecture
process dem ocratic. T he client will be able to follow the develop m ent of his house step by step. He will "see" it and "live" it before it is built. He will be able to m ake choices and change the house. The breach tha t has separated the architect from arch i tecture, at least since the Renaissance, will finally be closed, as will the breach betw een space and its structural shell.
VI
Space in Time
The h isto ry of architecture is m arked by chances m issed, giant steps forw ard, and long falls backw ard. M ichelangelo took a giant step forw ard; everyone praised him , bu t no one follow ed w here he led. Borrom ini leaped forw ard; he was ostracized during his lifetim e and dism issed after his death. C onstructiv ism m arked a major advance after the O ctober R evolution, bu t Stalin, good classicist th a t he was, froze the m ovem ent. W right burst forth , bu t w here are the traces of his w ork in our present panoram a?
It is easy to understand w hy so m any give up the battle. It is hard to escape from the academic w om b. A t best, com prom ise is achieved, and that is even worse. An architect w ho said, "I w ant to speak ancient G reek" w ould probably be considered mad, bu t he w ould actually be less dem ented th an those w ho uncon sciously speak an ungram m atical version of ancient Greek, igno rant of its vocabulary and syntax. O n ly one architect of our time sought and found architecture in ancient Greece. A nd he discov ered it for him self, w ithou t the blinders of the B eaux-A rts school. T hat m an was C harles-Edouard Jeanneret, w ho changed his nam e to Le C orbusier after his baptism in G reek w aters. The only way to speak ancient Greek w ould be to form ulate the invariables of the language: antiperspective, no alignm ent or parallelism of volum es, ban on sym m etry (in the nam e of the Propylaea), and a veto on classicism (in the nam e of the Erechtheum ). Are these not the invariables of m odern architecture? O f course, and the only w ay to get free of perspective conditioning is to go back to preperspective civilizations, usually to the M iddle Ages bu t in Le C orbusier's case to Greece. Take H adrian 's Villa in Tivoli,
47
18 . Closed spaces: a menhir, a pyramid, and a Greek temple (above). Static interior spaces: the Pantheon and the Temple of M inerva Medica in Rome (second row). Spaces to move through: the Acropolis, Athens; H adrian's Villa, Tivoli; catacombs, Rome (third row). Paleo-Christian one-directional m ovement; Gothic tw o-direc tional movement; Baroque movement, Piazza del Quirinale, Rome (below).
Space in Time 49
for exam ple. Does it speak the classical language or som ething diam etrically opposite, w ith its hinged blocks sw inging around and reaching out to the landscape? The idea of “ the classical w orld" is a m eaningless abstraction. Paradoxical as it m ay seem, "classical" civilization was alm ost to tally anticlassical.
Space in tim e is the sum m ary of the problem in a nutshell. It took m an thousands of years to m aster architectural space. The tim e elem ent in architecture was experienced for only a short and exceptional period, th a t of the catacom bs. It will take cen tu ries, perhaps thousands of years, for m an to m aster the dynam ic principle of space in time.
The only w ay to becom e m odern is by reliving the stages of past h istory inside oneself. Before the P antheon there were no interior spaces created by man. There were em pty , unfilled voids and left-over, negative cavities. Prim itive m an was afraid of space. His m onum ent was the m enhir, an uprigh t "long stone," a " fu ll ness" in the endless wastes. The ancient East produced a num ber of solids, like the pyram ids and tem ples w ith hyposty le halls, w here space was driven out by enorm ous colum ns. The Greek tem ple hum anized volum e, bu t it continued to ignore space. The idea of using nontactile reality as an architectural in strum en t was first pu t into practice in the Pantheon. But its space is tim id, hem m ed in by gigantic walls and lacking contact w ith the outside. It is lighted only by a single oculus at the top, w hich heightens the chiaroscuro of the coffered dom e and confirms tha t this is solid heavy m atter. A few centuries w ent by before m an was ready for the in terplay of inner spaces and outside landscape. This did no t happen until late antiqu ity , w ith the so-called Tem ple of M inerva M edica in Rome. And the idea of continuous flow betw een inner and outer space was only m ade concrete a thousand years later, in the G othic cathedrals.
There was a period in w hich the physical w orld was considered a place of dam nation, and a life after death was hypothesized. M an lived for the hereafter and scorned terrestrial values. Space was repressed. Endless hypogeal tunnels for the dead w ere dug beneath the static, theatrically m onum ental architecture of ancient Rome. The elem ent of tim e thus came into its ow n w ith the b irth of this arch itec tu re-to -m ove-th rough . The catacom bs were
50 The Modern Language of Architecture
only m oved through, they did not lead anyw here. It was the Biblical approach in a m etaphysical and transcendental key, an architecture of suicide. This was a short-lived experience in h is tory. As the C hurch became w ordiy, it came to term s w ith adm in istrative and political au thority . The elem ent of time encountered the G reco-R om an sense of space. M ovem ent was preserved along the length of the C hristian basilica, from narthex to apse, bu t colum ns and walls on bo th sides of the nave were organized in classical fashion, w ith a single axial m otion line. O n ly in the G othic cathedral was som ething more com plex achieved, in the contrast betw een tw o lines of m otion: the length of the church, w hich can be m oved through physically; and a vertical course m arking an ideal passage heavenw ard.
The tim e elem ent was constricted in the Renaissance. Pure space prevailed again, along w ith the self-sufficient object and the cen tral-p lan building. The furious battle over St. Peter's Basilica in Rome was concerned w ith stasis and m ovem ent, Reform ation and C ounter R eform ation. M ichelangelo's scheme was bu tchered to m ake room for a theatrical plan. Borrom ini revived M ichelange lo's idea in the church of Sant'A gnese in the Piazza N avona, and in Sant'Ivo alia Sapienza he show ed th a t the im possible was possible, th a t a centralized space could be tru ly dynam ic. His trium phan t shout died out w ithou t an echo.
The Biblical concept of life implies m ovem ent and change. The G reco-Rom an concept involves static space. The C hristian C hurch struck a dubious balance betw een the two. There was m ultid irec tional m ovem ent in the plan of Pope S ixtus' Rome and in the layout of Baroque cities. Then came the neoclassical freeze.
The sixth invariable of the m odern language is space in time, space th a t is tru ly lived in, ready to act and be acted on. W hen the first five invariables are caught up by space in tim e, they acquire new substance. Functional listing is the premise. A sym m e try and dissonance are indispensable features, because a sym m e trical building m akes m ovem ent useless; all you can do is stand still and look at it. A ntiperspective is ano ther consequence of space in tim e, because it m eans constantly changing the view ing point. D ecom position and projecting structures are instrum ents
19. Architecture w ithout buildings. The architect m ust study hum an functions w ithout worrying about how to box them in (above). He m ust avoid forcing them into single boxes or series of regular prisms (center). The modern language of architecture adapts spaces to hum an functions and movem ents (below).
52 The Modern Language of Architecture
for adding the tim e elem ent to architecture. They break up the box and bite its corners.
How can tim e be introduced into space? O ne w ay was pointed out by Louis Kahn. He distinguished betw een spaces to move through and spaces created for "arrivals" at the end of m ovem ent. A nyone w ho conceives of a corridor w ith parallel walls, tha t is as a static prism , does no t know the first th ing about architecture. Even the arrival spaces— living room, study, or bedroom — should not be to tally static. They m ust foster hum an com m unication, intellectual tension, or w aking after sleep. Life is alw ays full of happenings. The dynam ism of living needs to be m ediated bu t not reduced to zero. A room is entered, crossed, and left, and all this m ovem ent should be considered and provided for in d e sign. W hat is the "free p lan ," the principle of flexibility, m oving partitions, and fluidity from space to space? It is ano ther w ay of expressing space in tim e and tim e in space. The volum e of Villa Savoye, in Poissy, is slashed from ground to roof garden by a ram p th a t is visible th roughou t the house. Le C orbusier called it promenade architecturale, architecture to walk th rough.
Staircases are certainly m oved through, bu t too m any of them are caged in vertical tubes. In the Swiss Pavilion of the U niversity of Paris, the staircases emerge from the volum e and a " free -h an d " curved wall caresses them . A m ore advanced exam ple is the sta ir cases in A alto 's dorm itories at the M assachusetts Institu te of Technology in C am bridge, w hich are continuous w ith the corri dors in order to form serpentine volum es and spaces. A nd w hat about the fam ous building th a t is all passagew ay and ramp? The G uggenheim M useum in N ew York is tha t kind of structure, an extrovert helical promenade.
Norris Kelly Sm ith m aintains tha t W right in troduced Biblical thought into the field of architecture for the first tim e, after tw o thousand years of dom ination by G reco-Rom an concepts. It was easier for W right to escape from classicism because he turned dow n a B eaux-A rts education. He hated big cities, bureaucratic institu tions, au thority , and power, and kept intact the proud in d i vidualism of the pioneers. A t Taliesin, W isconsin, and Taliesin W est, Arizona, he lived close to nature and experienced and s tu d ied time. How, indeed, could you th ink of building a house over
Space in Time 53
a w aterfall if you did not have a vivid sense of fluid m otion? In the G uggenheim M useum a glass strip was w ound around the spiral, so tha t paintings and sculptures could receive a m ixture of natural and artificial light. The tim e elem ent m arks the trans ition from the city to the m useum inside and vice versa. The lighting of the interior space was to change tone every hour all year round.
W here in architecture can time be introduced? Everywhere. How can it be done? In countless ways. Take floors, for example. Does it m ake sense to have the same k ind of floor surface in the hallw ay, the living room , the bathroom , the study, and the bedroom ? Should m ovem ent and kinetic experience be the same in room s w ith such different functions? W here could such an inane rule have come from? Classicism, of course. W hat basis could it have? C ertainly no t the so-called classical period, w hich reveals a rem arkable sense of m ovem ent: the A thenian Acropolis is built on rough rocky terrain, kept th a t w ay in order to impose slow, architecturally calculated m otion. Every space should have different flooring— hard, soft, gravelly, sm ooth or rough, oblique, any kind as long as it is though t out. E instein says th a t an event is localized not only in tim e bu t also in space. This revolutionary idea has yet to be assim ilated by architecture. W hat it m eans is the follow ing invariable: open design th a t is constan tly in process, invested w ith tim e consciousness, and unfinished.
20. Frank Lloyd W right, from listing to reintegration. Above: three-dim ensional drawing for the M artin and Barton Houses in Buffalo, New York (1 9 0 3 - 4 ); the single units are functionally articulated. Below: the Guggenheim M useum , New York (1946- 5 9 ); a spiral turning outward to the city.
V II
Reintegration of Building, City, and Landscape
If listing functions is the first invariable of the m odern code of architecture, then rein tegration is logically the last one. The five invariables in betw een could be increased in num ber by passing from the elem entary level to an exhaustive analysis of the lexicon, gram m ar, and syntax of architecture.
Inventorying functions breaks up the box, lists elem ents w ith out classifying them , and gives concrete new m eaning to the ind i vidual messages th a t classicism drow ned in "o rders" and se quences of proportions. The successive invariables reinforce the listing operation by discarding the inviolable taboos of sym m etry, assonance, geom etry, perspective, com pact volum es, structural corners, and space w ith no time com ponent. T hus they also foster a rein tegration of the functions tha t have been listed. The "free p lan" by itself is a step on the road to rein tegration , because it postulates m axim um com m unication and flow betw een rooms and thereby unifies them . But this is no t synthesis in the classic, a priori sense. It is just the opposite, a m atter of dynam ic un ity tha t creates a m ovem ent and shapes space to time. True, you move physically even in a classical building, bu t m an alw ays has the im pression of being out of place and incongruous there. Those spaces were designed not for him , bu t for m otionless s ta t ues, and they are as form al as tom bs.
Adolf Loos explored the principle of vertical rein tegration in his R aum plan (an interlocking construct of spatial areas of differ ent heights) and enlarged the surface available for living, thereby econom izing and increasing artistic values. There is no reason w hy the service area or the sleeping area cannot be low er than
55
21. Raumplan and reintegration. Above: the staggered levels break up the mechani cal superimposition of floors and provide each room w ith the functionally correct height, w ithout waste. Below: an urban plan that brings collective and residential structures into close contact w ith streets, parks, and transportation systems, taking advantage of several levels.
Reintegration o f Building, City, Landscape 57
the living room. And we can use the differences in height to create o ther usable spaces th a t are in tim ate, interesting, and acces sible in a few steps. For an exam ple of the opposite principle, take a sym bol of Fascism, the Palazzo Littorio in Rome, com pleted after the w ar as the seat of the M inistry of Foreign Affairs. The bathroom ceilings are over tw en ty feet high, the same height as those of the assem bly halls. These im perial toilets are fit for fairy tale giants or Duces on fifteen-foot stilts. Instead, they are used by little m en w ho look sadly ou t of place there. They are another exam ple of classicist schizophrenia.
O ur aim is horizontal and vertical rein tegration , w ith passages in any direction, not squared off at right angles bu t curving, obli que, and inclined. This principle goes well beyond the single object and integrally links the building to the city. W hen the volum e has been broken up into planes and reassem bled in fou r-d im en sional fashion, the traditional facade disappears, together w ith the d istinction betw een interior and exterior spaces and betw een architecture and tow n planning. The fusion of city and building leads to "u rba tec tu re ." No m ore building blocks alternating w ith em pty blocks for streets and plazas. O nce the old weave is un rav eled, the landscape can be reintegrated. A nd w hen the traditional dichotom y of city and countryside is abolished, u rbatecture can spread into w hole territories, w hile natu re penetrates the m etro politan fabric. T hus continu ity will be established betw een city and region, instead of overcrow ded, pollu ted , chaotic, and hom i cidal urban com m unities on the one hand and desolate, uncu lti vated countryside on the other.
Is this utopian? O nly in so far as it is still just an aspiration. If it becomes a spoken language in design, in furnishings, in your ow n room, in buildings of any size, in a city, and in its region, it will acquire an overw helm ing force. A rchitects and people in te r ested in the hum an habita t will have at their disposal a revo lu tion ary w eapon, one tha t is actually explosive by v irtue of architec ture. If we really speak the m odern architectural language, there are tw o possibilities facing us. Either we will be allow ed to express ourselves freely, or we will have to dem olish the obstacles that prevent us from doing so, we will have to fight censorship. Does real-estate speculation gag free speech? T hen we m ust com bat
$ p / l c e / '+ -
22. John Johansen, from listing to reintegration. The M ummers Theater, O kla homa City. The elements are laid out on the ground ("place it"). Then comes structure ("support it"), followed by traffic tubes ("connect it"). Thus a city- and-building object, fully opened to its surroundings, is achieved.
Reintegration of Building, City, Landscape 59
it w ith a vigor th a t is com m ensurate w ith the im portance of urba- tectural language. But our cause will be w eakened if, once the use of land has been collectivized, no th ing changes in term s of architectural censorship, as was the case in Soviet Russia.
O bviously th is last invariable has functional consequences too. A fter having listed and decom posed the functions of buildings, cities, and territories, we m ust re th ink their relationships. W hy should a school be a self-contained structure instead of being one w ith the social center, the local adm inistrative offices, facto ries, professional studios, and residences? Is it right to separate residential from recreational and commercial areas? Should we not rather prom ote an in terplay of functions? Take the case of universities, w hich used to consist of several independen t facul ties, each w ith its ow n classrooms, auditorium , and library. In ter disciplinary education has started breaking through th is kind of isolationism . W ill universities continue to m ove outside the city, like the trad itional English and Am erican cam puses, or will they be localized th roughou t the residential and w orking areas?
Streets m ust also be reintegrated. O n several floors of the U nite d 'H ab ita tion in M arseilles, Le C orbusier inserted stores, thus reintegrating business and residence. He called these corridors rues, veritable indoor streets. W hy cannot streets run at the same height as the ten th or fiftieth floor of the buildings, floating be tw een skyscrapers and structuring the sky? C ountless u topian designs offer urban images of this k ind, and a num ber of architec tural w orks foreshadow them in concrete fashion.
The offices of the Ford Foundation in N ew York look ou t onto an inner covered park. A building on the Via Rom agna in Rome reintegrates commercial, adm inistrative, and residential functions by having stores, offices, and villas piled on top of each other. The M um m ers T heater in O klahom a C ity is a construct of he tero geneous fragm ents, scrap metal, autom obile wrecks, and tubes— action architecture, as John Johansen 's sketches clearly show. M ontreal's H abita t '67 is a cluster of cells th a t link up architectural and urban spaces w ith streets on all levels. This structure could be enlarged to accom m odate schools, hospitals, plazas, gardens, and parks; the sort of do -it-you rse lf architecture, flowing and free from geom etry, tha t Louis K ahn envisaged in his sketch.
60 The Modern Language of Architecture
Unless the population problem is to be solved by nuclear war, m acrostructures are urgently needed, bu t no t terrify ing m acro structures. O n the contrary, they should be hum an, com fortable, and life-enhancing, w ith exciting spaces for collective activities and in tim ate spaces for privacy.
R eintegration of city and region im plies a dialogue between
23. Assembly of residential units at Habitat '67, M ontreal, by Moshe Safdie. Above: two cartoons on Habitat, by Ting and Daigneault. Below: a sketch by Louis Kahn; he objected to the boxlike shapes of Safdie's units and suggested that they be assembled freely, like leaves on a tree.
Reintegration of Building, City, Landscape 61
architecture and its natural environm ent. Psychoanalysis and an thropology teach and w arn us tha t m an has lost some essential values in his rise to civilization: the sense of the u n ity of space and tim e, the freedom of nom adic life, the joy of aimless w ander ing th rough unlim ited horizons. W e can and m ust recover these values. T he h ippy com m unes and the revolt of the young against consum er society, polluted cities, and repressive institu tions are sym ptom s of the urgent need to w ipe the cultural slate clean. But one m akes a new start by m oving forw ard, providing concrete alternatives and using the m odern language th a t can express them . O therw ise one is mired in mere rom antic protest, blocked at zero degrees.
Again, let us th ink of some sim ple cases th a t can be easily verified. The reader can m ake his ow n extrapolations on the urban and territorial scale. W hat does rein tegrating architecture and n a ture m ean? W alk into a cave or a natural grotto. It m ay once have been the refuge for prehistoric m an. You can feel the earth beneath your feet, and you like the feeling. This sense of physical pleasure has been lost on our asphalt streets and sm ooth side walks. The roof of the cave is no t squared off at the sides; it is continuous w ith the curving rough walls and runs right into the earth floor. W hen light strikes the rocky masses or glances over the vault of the cave, it creates stunn ing magical effects that change hour after hour. A nd th ink about grottoes by the sea, w here the light picks up the color of the dep ths as it is reflected by the w ater surface. The light m oves w ith the waves, records the sky, w hether cloudy or calm, and com m unicates the shifting of the w inds. All these lost values can be rediscovered through the m odern language of architecture. In the M assachusetts Insti tu te of Technology chapel, Eero Saarinen illum inated the space w ith a trem ulous light reverberating off water. D espite controver sial opinions abou t its success, this solu tion is indicative of w hat can be done. The reintegration of architecture and natu re m ust be carried ou t in a scientific, not a rom antic w ay, on the basis of anthropological, sociological, and psychoanalytical research. The m odern code dem ands it.
From listing functions to reintegration, there are seven invari ables tha t bear w itness against idolatry, dogm a, conventions, set
62 The Modern Language of Architecture
24. Above: a comm unity building w ith pneumatic structures th at attem pt to recover the tactile and figural values of prehistoric caves, designed by J. P. Jungmann of the French Utopie group. Below: a new integrated city, w ith macrostructures and connecting tubes, designed by the British Archigram group.
Reintegration o f Building, City, Landscape 63
phrases, com m onplaces, hum anistic im precision, and repressive ness, in w hatever conscious or unconscious form these m ay ap pear. The new language "speaks us" straight out, w ith o u t m ystical overtones, no t on ly for the present and the fu tu re bu t all the way back to preh istory . To borrow from A rnold Schoenberg, the m odern language brings together the idea of M oses and the word of Aaron.
Conclusion: Unfinished Architecture and Kitsch
It is w orth com paring tw o m odern theses, one expressed in the iconoclastic appeal of Friedrich H undertw asser and the o ther in the m ournful reflections of Saul Bellow's Mr. Sammler.
H undertw asser says in his "M anifesto for the B oycotting of A rchitecture": "Every m an has the right to build the w ay he w ants. A rchitecture today is censored the same w ay painting is in the Soviet U nion. Everybody should be entitled to build his ow n four walls and be responsible for them . P resen t-day architec ture is crim inally sterile. The reason is th a t building stops w hen the client enters his residence, yet tha t is precisely w hen it should begin, and grow like skin on a hum an organism ." H ence, to the stake w ith architects; their job and privileges should be turned over to the consum ers, to the people.
Mr. Sam m ler is m uch more skeptical about spontaneous creativ ity: "Then: a crazy species? Yes, perhaps. T hough m adness is also a m asquerade, the project of a deeper reason. . . . A nd w hat to do? In the m atter of histrionics, see, for instance, w hat tha t furious w orld-boiler M arx had done, insisting tha t revolutions were made in historical costum e, the Crom w ellians as O ld T esta m ent prophets, the French in 1789 dressed in Rom an outfits. But the proletariat, he said, he declared, he affirmed, w ould m ake the first nonim itative revolution. It w ould not need the drug of historical recollection. From sheer ignorance, know ing no m odels, it w ould sim ply do the th ing pure. He was as giddy as the rest about originality. A nd only the w orking class was original. T hus h istory w ould get aw ay from mere poetry. T hen the life of h u m an kind w ould clear itself of copying. It w ould be free from Art. 64
Conclusion 65
Oh, no. No, no, not so, thought Sammler. Instead, Art increased, and a sort of chaos.” Stalin's proletarian society copied the archi tecture of autocracy and despotism, and people who practiced confrontation politics "were obviously derivative. And of what— of Paiutes, of Fidel Castro? No, of Hollywood extras. Acting mythic. . . . Better, thought Sammler, to accept the inevitability of imitation and then to imitate good things. . . . Greatness with out models? Inconceivable. . . . Make peace therefore with inter mediacy and representation. But choose higher representations. Otherwise the individual must be the failure he now sees and knows himself to be. Mr. Sammler, sorry for all, and sore at heart” {Mr. Sammler 's Planet [New York: Viking, 1970], pp. 148- 49).
Mr. Sammler is right, an architectural code is needed. But the liberating force of the modern language of architecture is oriented toward Hundertwasser's objectives. It teaches one to desanctify the canons and precepts of the Enlightenment for the sake of more concrete choices. The seven invariables all refer to specific models, from William Morris' Red House to the masterpieces of Wright, Le Corbusier, Gropius, Mies, Aalto, and the more re cent achievements of Safdie and Johansen. They also refer to the past, to Borromini, Michelangelo, Rossetti, Brunelleschi, to the Middle Ages, late antiquity, Hadrian's Villa, Greek acropo lises, and even to prehistory—to show that the modern language of architecture is not merely the language of modern architecture; it enfolds the heresies and dissonances of history, those countless "exceptions to the rule” which have finally been emancipated and which can provide the backbone of an alternative language.
Participation is the rallying cry of young people, politicians, sociologists, and artists. There is a considerable element of dema gogy in that cry. What does taking part mean in architecture? Giving the man in the street a T-square and compasses and telling him to design anything he likes? He would only ape the most backward classical models. It does not mean offering him several plans and asking him to take his pick. What criteria would he follow? Interpreted this way, participation is nothing more than a slogan. Instead, it is a substantial corollary of the seven invari ables of the modern code.
66 The Modern Language of Architecture
Every one of the invariables, from listing functions to reintegra tion, demands participation, for they are concerned with the form ative process (not w ith form), with the unfinished, w ith an archi tecture that can grow and change, an architecture that is not isolated but can communicate with external reality and even soil its hands w ith kitsch. Nobody wants “beautiful" consolatory ob jects any more. Art has stepped down from its pedestal to meet life halfway and assimilate the esthetic valences of the ugly and the cast-off. Alberto Burri paints rags; Claes Oldenburg discovers the message in a "soft typewriter"; noise is not antimusic but rather "alternative music"; and in architecture, the Mummers Theater looks as if it had been built w ith junk bought from a scrap dealer.
The unfinished in art has a long history, from Mnesicles to Rossetti and Palladio, reaching its high point in Michelangelo. Contemporary art, however, codifies the unfinished by the com pletion of an interrupted communicative process, requiring action by the user. Thus participation is not a paternalistic sop but an inherent feature of the coming-into-being of an open work of art. Take city planning. Classicists envisage total city plans that can be carried out only in dictatorial regimes. M odern architects, instead, fight for open and continuous planning that can answer
25. "Design for a city design": Plug-in City, by the British Archigram group. Dense urban concentration, forests of skyscrapers connected at various levels and functionally reintegrated, extensive green areas all around. This sort of organi zation would also contribute to a more intense community life.
Conclusion 67
society 's new dem ands at any m om ent. The classicists design Renaissance "ideal cities" th a t are abstract, u top ian , and p erpe tu ally frustrating . T he m oderns know th a t they cannot design a real city, they can only design its ten tative design; th a t is to say, they can develop a hypothetical program for the fu tu re , bu t one th a t will be carried ou t w ith different and unexpected forms as needs change.
The unfin ished approach is the goal of the seven invariables, and it is a fundam enta l prerequisite if architecture is to be involved in the land- and tow nscape, assim ilate its contradictions, and rum m age in squalor and kitsch in search of hum an values that need saving. Sociologists have found th a t slum s, bidonvilles, favelas, and barriadas have an in tensely vital sense of com m unity tha t is u n know n in "p lan n ed " low er-class housing developm ents. W hy is that? Because adventure, the pioneering spirit, and neighborli ness are m issing in p lanned settlem ents, together w ith th a t spon taneous k itsch w hich, despite its negative features, can be ex trem ely stim ulating. In the m odern language of the unfinished, participation is the indispensable structural com plem ent of archi tecture in action.
There it is. T he seven invariables provide a guide to design. N o architect, certainly not W right, Le C orbusier, M ies, or Aalto, w ould subscribe to them in toto, although Johansen and Safdie m ight. T hey are seven heresies, seven testim onies against classical idolatry , in to lerable if taken all at once. Small m atter. W ith this guide in the pocket, each will apply them as far as he can. Some will no t apply them at all. H erbert M arcuse (An Essay on Liberation, 1969 ) calls people like th a t " th e m ad ones, the uncom m itted, those w ho take flight into all kinds of m ysticism , the fools and the scoundrels, and those w ho cou ldn 't care less w hatever happens."
Afterthoughts
1 . COMING OF AGE
T hroughout architectural history, linguistic codification has m arked a cu lture 's com ing of age. W hat is it that conventionally distinguishes h istory from prehistory? T he discovery of w riting, that is, an institu tionalized w ay of com m unicating. O f course, even before w riting there were instrum ents of transm ission, bu t at a restricted level. Likewise architects, for better or for worse, have com m unicated ideas and experience even w ith o u t a form al ized idiom at their disposal. But only now can one speak, read, and w rite architecture outside a restricted specialist m ilieu. This achievem ent transcends the fram ew ork of the discipline and im plies dem ocratic developm ent, a new social era for architecture based on a consensus th a t is no t paternalistic, populist, or p re ten tious (w here real needs are constantly m ixed up w ith those created by advertising), bu t au thentic and direct.
M any architects are afraid to grow up. They prefer to rem ain dependent children under the au thority of a fa ther figure. But in the 1950s and 1960s the fathers— W right, Le C orbusier, G ro pius, M ies van der Rohe, M endelsohn, and, a few years later, Louis K ahn— died. M oreover, some of them stopped nourishing their children long before they actually died: M ies, for example, w hen he began w orking w ith closed prism s and abandoned the poetics of fluid spaces channeled by De Stijl free plans; and G ro pius, w hen he tu rned to team w ork in America and forgot the system of breaking blocks up into functional volum es, w hich had been the great achievem ent of the Bauhaus. Even Le C orbu sier, w hen he took his giant step forw ard at R oncham p, left teach ing behind and disinherited children and grandchildren, w ho had 68
Afterthoughts 69
to fall back on the Le C orbusier "m anner” of the Lyons La T our- ette m onastery and C handigarh.
There are no more father figures. It is tim e to grow up, get free of "a d u lt" guardianship, and speak an independen t codified language th a t derives naturally from the w ork of the m asters bu t is n o t dom inated by their individual styles and the w eight of their overw helm ing personalities.
Is there any o ther alternative? N one th a t does no t carry in fan ti lism to grotesque extrem es. Some orphan architects, w ith o u t a father to tu rn to, head back to the m aternal w om b of the academ y, the classicist ideology of power, geom etric dogm as, harm ony, and proportion . In short, in their anxiety for security, they com m it suicide. O th ers fall into the opposite error. R ather th an accept the m odern language, they push back "zero degree" to the lim it of chaos and an ticu lture and reject any system of com m unication.
The stages of developm ent in music are clear: atonality , Expres sionist destructuring; then, dodecaphonic rationalism ; and, finally, postdodecaphonic aserial music, w hich eschew s rationalist rigor, bu t not in the nam e of despair and chaos. These stages are less evident in architecture, because Expressionist zeroing (G audi and later M endelsohn) did no t precede rationalism bu t evolved alm ost contem poraneously w ith it from the beginning of the century to the early tw enties. T hus the postrationalist organic era is full of Expressionist revivals, especially in the serpentine form s of Aalto. Even the R oncham p chapel is a m ixture of Expressionism and A rt Informel w ith occasional elem ents of "B aroque persuasion" in the lighting, som etim es seductive and som etim es overstated. It is w orth stressing the point tha t there are tw o refuges in the m aternal w om b: academic classicism and pseudo-B aroque Expres sionism. The la tter may seem m ore com plex and hypnotic , but it is no less naive and regressive than the form er.
2. MANNERISM AND LANGUAGE
Is it really indispensable th a t there be a codified language? If its invariables are derived from architectural m asterpieces, is it no t enough to follow those precedents? In o ther w ords, w hy pass th rough a code, w hich is necessarily reductive, instead of going straight to the original sources?
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Certainly, before the constants of the modern language of archi tecture were formulated, the only historically legitimate path was Mannerism. At a theoretical level, there is nothing wrong with that. O n the contrary. Mannerism humanizes the styles of gen iuses by divesting them of the messianic attitude of a Wright or the doctrinarianism of a Le Corbusier. If M annerism could make these styles truly popular and available to all, there would, of course, be no need to codify an architectural language. U nfortu nately this is not the case. Mannerism neither popularizes nor democratizes. It is a highly intellectual operation and almost un- transmittable. Take, for example, Rosso Fiorentino and Pontormo, the occasional followers of Michelangelo and Borromini, the disci ples of W right, Le Corbusier, and Mendelsohn; they amount to a few dozen in the whole world. W hy is this the case? Because Mannerists work from results, from finished products, and neglect the process that developed the products. W hat they do might be called "speech about speech." Mannerists elaborate on forms, not on structure and formation. They annotate and distort forms in a sagacious but limited and aristocratic way. The works of the masters are derived from the reality of life. The works of the Mannerists are derived simply from those of the masters. The masters continually destructure, they go back to the starting point, and they return to listing functions directly. The M anner ists, on the other hand, perceive reality only through the filter of selected and exalted images. Thus Mannerists tire quickly and are sucked back into the academy, which is always lying in am bush (neo-sixteenth-centuryism, neoclassicism, contemporary neohistorical trends).
It is im portant to bear in mind the genetic weakness of M anner ism: the only way it can destroy classical models—either tear them apart in anger or undo them with irony—is by preserving those models as emblems of a sanctity to be desanctified. To challenge their authority the Mannerists must first acknowledge it. The infractions and dissonant notes of the M annerists presup pose the tyranny of classical harmony. Indeed M annerism has nothing to work on when it encounters anticlassical m ethodolo gies, as in the buildings of Michelangelo, Borromini, or Wright. W ithout the despotic reign of the academy, the M annerists have
Afterthoughts 71
no th ing to struggle against, and their invective is hushed to a m urm ur.
A direct unm ediated passage from the w riting of the m asters to the com m on language of the people does no t and cannot exist. It w ould be absurd to tell people to go back to the sources, to read the Divine Comedy in order to learn Italian. If a language is to be spoken by everybody, some invariables m ust be distilled from the w orks of poets so th a t it becom es possible to com m uni cate in everyday prose.
3. THE HISTORIC SEQUENCE OF THE INVARIABLES
Can the sequence of the seven invariables be m odified at will? For exam ple, can rein tegration come before antiperspective three- d im ensionality , or space in tim e precede listing functions?
This sort of question ignores the historical genesis and gradual developm ent of language. The invariables are no t axiom s outside of time, absolute tru ths, bu t stages m arked by specific experiences. W illiam M orris destructured the classical code, took it back to zero degree; and he cham pioned listing, the inventory ing of func tions, and freedom from canons of sym m etry , p roportion , orders, axes, alignm ents, and relations of full and em pty spaces. D isso nance m arks a later stage. It is not sufficient m erely to register functional requirem ents; one becomes tru ly aw are of them by noting their contrasts. Clearly, then, the first tw o invariables can not be interchanged. A ntiperspective th ree-d im ensionality devel oped alongside Expressionism and especially w ith Cubism , w hen the object was no longer observed from a privileged view ing point bu t dynam ically, from innum erable po in ts of view. The result was four-d im ensional decom position, the analytical syn tax of the De Stijl group. H ow could De Stijl precede Cubism , w hen it is one of C ubism 's applications? Perhaps the fifth invariable, that is, the involvem ent of every architectural elem ent in the structural play, could be m oved, since it derives from all of m odern engineer ing. But W right, in the last of his eight sketches reproduced above, correlates it w ith the poetics of projecting structures and w ith the dism em bering of the box in to d issonant panels. As for infusing space w ith tim e, this occupies the six th place, and it could not be otherw ise. In effect, this invariable applies the volum etric tech-
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niques of C ubism to the cavities, the vital hollow spaces, the special places of architecture. Finally, it is superfluous to repeat tha t one cannot reintegrate w hat has no t been separated. O th e r wise it w ould be a question of a priori in tegration and a retreat to classicism.
The sequence of the seven invariables has been established by a historical process th a t lasted m ore than a century , and it cannot be altered w ithou t serious consequences. Every architect m ust follow the single stages of this itinerary, alw ays referring back to the preceding invariables, w ithou t om ission, th a t is to functional listing, the annihilation of every convention and set phrase, and the radical destructuring of the traditional architec tural apparatus.
The m odern language is a precise and alm ost ru th less in stru m ent of criticism, a k ind of litm us paper th a t scientifically de te r mines w hether and to w hat degree an architect is m odern. Take Alvar Aalto, for exam ple. His w ork incorporates listing, disso nance, antiperspective three-d im ensionality , cantilevers, space in time, and rein tegration , six invariables m agnificently applied. W hat is m issing, how ever, is four-dim ensional decom position, so that the rein tegration in A alto 's w orks is uncertain, based as it is on the revival of Expressionist and even Baroque them es.
It is no t com pulsory to apply all the invariables, b u t their se quence m ust be respected. G ropius' w ork has listing, dissonance, antiperspective th ree-d im ensionality , and volum etric decom posi tion; it ignores space in tim e and reintegration. M ies's European w orks are a trium ph of decom position and the spatial dynam ics that derives from it. But in America he neglected first functional listing and dissonance and then antiperspective th ree-d im ension ality; hence he reverted to academicism. W hat about Le C orbusier? He explored all the invariables, bu t no t sim ultaneously. In his rationalistic buildings, listing and rein tegration are m issing, a l though the latter is sp lendidly present in the tow n plan for Algiers. He rarely decom posed, and w hen he did it was in the inh ib ited purist sense. A t R oncham p he inventoried and rein tegrated , he stressed antiperspective th ree-d im ensionality and in troduced tim e into space. He broke th ings dow n, bu t he did not decom pose them.
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The seven invariables can be found all together in some of W right's buildings and to a m axim um degree in Falling W ater, the Divine Comedy of the m odern language of architecture.
4 . MISUNDERSTANDINGS OF THE " lANGUe / p AROLE" RELATIONSHIP
It often happens tha t semiotic research uses new instrum ents to old ends and unconsciously fosters recrudescences of the academy.
O ne m istake is to exclude m asterpieces and exceptional works, the products of creative geniuses, w hen codifying a language, and to take in to consideration only " typ ica l" or "paradigm atic" buildings, w hich represent the average standard. This is to neglect the fact tha t, lacking a code to m ake it generally accessible, the m odern language has been unable to influence m uch of contem po rary construction , w hich com m unicates only questionable and not very m eaningful thoughts. Excluding m asterpieces castrates the m odern language. W hat rem ains is m ediocrity, and th a t is alw ays academic. The opposite procedure should be followed. Rules should be derived from exceptions, this is the only way the new language can become flesh.
The Italian language, for instance, was form alized on the basis of the m ost im portan t texts, from the Divine Comedy on. O nce structured , the language was assim ilated at all levels, even that of everyday speech. The same th ing can happen in architecture. The invariables derived from m asterpieces can be applied correctly by even the hum blest builders. But it is vain to seek for the invariables in "typ ica l" or "paradigm atic" w orks, w hich are such precisely because they do not incorporate the invariables.
People spoke Italian long before a codification was derived from the Divine Comedy. The same sort of th ing is true in architecture. There are peasant houses, small factories, and vernacular struc tures, "arch itectu re w ithou t architects" in short, w hich have spon taneously applied the seven invariables. The language of the Divine Comedy arose from the vernacular. T ha t poem legitim ized an im pulse from below and, once codified, resulted in the Italian lan guage. Likewise Falling W ater, the product of protracted travail against academ ic scaffoldings, provides the basis for a popular architectural language.
Some sem iologists insist th a t architecture is m ade of rules and
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exceptions, bu t th a t only the rules can be codified. W h at rules? Since m odern architecture is com posed exclusively of exceptions, the only rules there can be are those of the academ y. If w e codify those rules, we run the risk of regressing to the B eaux-A rts p re conception of harm ony as the rule and dissonance as the excep tion. This is the opposite of w hat m odern m usic show ed to be the case w hen it established dissonance as the rule. T heodor A dorno m akes th is clear: “The m ost advanced technical proce dures in music set problem s th a t expose the resources of trad i tional [read: classical] harm ony as a set of useless cliches. There are m odern com positions in w hich occasional tonic harm onies appear, bu t it is this harm ony, and not dissonance, w hich is ca cophonous . . ." (M ax H orkheim er and Theodor W . A dorno, Dialektik der Aufklärung, 1947). In architectural terms: academic rules, no t the m odern invariables, are arbitrary and incongruous. A dorno goes on to say th a t “ the predom ination of dissonance seems to destroy the rational 'logical7 relationships in tonality [read: sym m etry, proportion , geometric schemes, equilib rium of full and em pty , balance of masses, axiality, perspective alignm ent, and so forth], th a t is, the simple relations of perfect harm ony. In this, how ever, dissonance is more rational than harm ony , for it offers to view, in an articulate although com plex m anner, the relationship of the sounds tha t go in to it, instead of creating a unified 'hom ogeneous' mix th a t suppresses the ind iv idual com po nents. . . A pplying this principle to architecture, conventional set phrases w ithou t sem antic value are alw ays harm onic, tonal, and classicist, w hile m eaningful messages are d issonant and ex press the reality of things and behaviors. It w ould be a serious m istake to th ink , as M annerists do, th a t dissonance is possible only in contrast to harm ony, w hich reduces dissonance to a mere exception to the rule of tonality . This is no t the case. To quote A dorno again, “ the new harm onies are no t innocent successors to the old consonance; rather, they are d istinct in th a t their un ity is totally self-articulated. The single sounds un ite to form a h a r mony, bu t w ith in th a t harm ony they can be d istinguished one from another as single sounds. In this w ay they continue to be 'd issonan t,'— not in respect of some sort of unachieved harm ony but in them selves."
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H ow m any years, how m any decades will it take to convince architects of w hat music has long since m astered? Freedom frig h t ens them , and they dem and harm onic consistency at all costs. Since life is packed w ith dissonance, they prefer to take it in at second hand by w ay of an a priori order. T hey practice self censorship and im poverish the language of architecture. They really ought to hang the follow ing quo tation from A dorno on their studio walls: "T he cult of consistency leads to idolatry. M a terial is no longer shaped and articulated to serve an artistic p u r pose. Instead the preordained arrangem ent becomes the artistic purpose. The palette takes the place of the p icture." In architec ture, the palette is all the fetishistic equipm ent of sym m etry, proportion , perspective, and pow er-inspired m onum entality .
O th er sem iologists say, we are in terested no t in the differences betw een classical and anticlassical idiom s bu t in their sim ilarities, the elem ents th ey have in com m on. This thesis only seems p lausi ble, because classicism is no t a language, bu t ra ther a linguistic ideology w ith no real basis, not even in the architectural w orks of the G reco-R om an world or the Renaissance. This is the crux of the m atter: to deny the existence of a gap betw een architectural theories and real buildings, betw een abstract B eaux-A rts in te rp re tations and the concrete languages of Greek, Rom an, and R enais sance architecture is tan tam oun t to enlisting sem iotics in the cause of reaction. T here is no point in searching for a m eeting ground betw een the classical and the anticlassical, for all valid architects, ancient and m odern alike, have been anticlassical. Since classicism is an artificial pow er-inspired construct, it is perhaps com parable to the form al Latin tha t was exhum ed in the fifteenth century for the use of an elite tha t w anted to avoid the problem s of a living language. W ould it no t be absurd to look for w hat fifteenth- century Italian and courtly Latin have in common?
Ferdinand de Saussure's d ichotom y of langue and parole has gen erated innum erable m isunderstandings in architectural theories, for tw o reasons: first, langue has been in terpreted not as the con crete language of buildings bu t as the contrary, form al Beaux- A rts ideology; second, as a consequence, the paroles, i.e., the cre ative acts, have been in terpreted as exceptions and anom alies, not to be assim ilated by the langue bu t to be excluded from it.
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In verbal language, paroles start out as exceptions and then filter into the norm al langue. In architecture, instead, they always rem ain exceptions, because the langue of classicism is no t a real language, bu t an abstract ideology refractory to any th ing new . W hat paroles of M ichelangelo or Borrom ini have ever found their w ay into the classical language? N ot one, as m ight be expected from a pseudo-language th a t is frozen by its very nature. The same th ing can be said of W right, Le Corbusier, G ropius, M ies, M endelsohn, and Aalto, w hose "w ords" left the B eaux-A rts system untouched.
The difficulties th a t arise in discussions w ith Saussure's fo llow ers derive from their assum ption th a t the true language of archi tecture is classical. W e know that it is anticlassical and alw ays has been. For us, then , the language of architecture is com posed exclusively of paroles and is dissonant, w hile for them , paroles cannot exist w ithou t a langue, and hence the architectural paroles m ust be referred to the non-langue of classicism, w ith disastrous results.
5. THE SEVEN INVARIABLES IN TOWN PLANNING
Tow n planning is so closely related to architecture th a t one can legitim ately speak of "u rbatec tu re ." The seven invariables are equally applicable to buildings, cities, and w hole regions. Is not inventorying functions the first th ing to do in preparing a city plan? Is no t dissonance indispensable to keep zoning from being m onotonous? Likewise, antiperspective th ree-d im ensionality p ro vides the m eans to counter the m ania for m onum ental axes, chess board street system s, and predeterm ined geom etrical spaces, be they square, rectangular, round, or hexagonal. Breaking up the building box is like breaking up the closed plan of the classical city. A nd space in time? This is just as applicable on the urban scale as it is on the architectural level. A nd rein tegration seems ever m ore urgent and fru itfu l in city planning if life is to be infused into organism s tha t have been zoned to death.
U rbatecture. To reintegrate the city m eans to rew eave its very fabric and give new drive to the various functions of its coeffi cients. It has been rem arked more than once th a t schools are low -use structures if the city segregates them in separate areas. A school is unused for several hours of the day, all n ight, on holidays, and during long vacations. This sort of w aste is typical
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of alm ost all public buildings (theaters, m ovie houses, governm ent offices, churches, and so forth) and can be elim inated only by rein tegrating educational, social, adm inistrative, productive, com mercial, and recreational functions in a new organization tha t is different from the present city. In tow n planning as in architecture, the m odern language abhors economic and cultural waste.
O ne beneficial result of the anticlassical code should be the overcom ing of a frustration tha t has plagued city p lanning at least since the m iddle of the fifteenth century , w hen "ideal cities" were conceived according to geom etric patterns, w ith their grill or radial schem ata. These oppressive, despotic, and to talitarian layouts are fostered by au thority to contain social life w ith in an ironclad im placable "o rder." Fortunately these ideal cities were never built, despite some negligible attem pts. But for centuries the "ideal c ity" has been doing serious dam age to tow n planners' psyches. T heir m egalom aniacally rigid program s have never m ade headw ay, and planners have developed neurotic persecution com plexes. T hey feel unappreciated because urban developm ent re m ains oblivious to their w ork. Politicians, adm inistrators, busi nessm en, rich and poor alike display the greatest indifference to their plans. W ith a few exceptions, city planners have never understood the reason for their lack of success. W ith no sensitivity to social dynam ics, bu t endow ed w ith a driving m ania for g ran deur, they have alw ays tried to regim ent society in static, in h u man, and suffocating constructs. The proof is th a t "ideal cities" have been built chiefly for four em blem atic functions: m ilitary bases, insane asylum s, prisons, and cem eteries. R ectangular, circu lar, hexagonal, and radial plans have found full expression in m ilitary installations from the Rom an cam p on, and in jails. They are fine for places w here m en are rigidly disciplined or im prisoned, from the Regina Coeli jail in Rome to Leavenw orth. This sort of city is " idea l" only for the pow ers th a t be. Even in the field of m ilitary architecture, how ever, there have been rebellious sp ir its w ho rejected the code of geom etry. Suffice it to m ention Fran cesco di G iorgio, Sanm icheli, and M ichelangelo 's 1529 plans for the Florence fortifications.
W hat is particularly sym ptom atic is the fact th a t the great here tics of architectural h isto ry— Brunelleschi, M ichelangelo, Palladio,
26- 28 . Three plates w ith Michelangelo's sketches for the Florence fortifications of 1529 . Preceding plate: interior spaces. Above: structural profiles. Following plate: some shapes of the ramparts toward the outside; walls-landscape dialogue.
mm mm
Afterthoughts 81
and B orrom ini— never drew up a city plan. T hey pu t their stam p on w hole cities, true, bu t w ithou t a priori constraints. Theirs was a ferocious and passionate dialogue w ith the urban organism. These m en took it apart and possessed it, they calculated its devel opm ent by focal points and nodes of activity, careful never to block its flexibility. It is no paradox to say th a t the only people no t needed in city planning are city planners. Is it conceivable tha t a city p lanner rather than an urbatect like Biagio Rossetti could ever have built the Ferrara of the Estes?
Does the m odern language of architecture repudiate city p lan ning? C ertain ly not. It repudiates classical planning, w hich is not based on inven to ry ing functions, dissonance, antiperspective v i sion, dism em bering of the box, space in tim e, and organic coordi nation. H ow , then , can we draw up plans and direct the develop m ent of cities and regions? W e m ay follow the lead of contem porary pain ting , w hich rejects the "fin ished" object and requires th a t the observer m entally com plete the picture himself. Like arch itecture and even m ore than architecture, city planning m ust arise from an in terplay of open hypotheses th a t can be accepted, m odified, or reoriented by society according to its ow n com plex and varied needs. It is a question of taking part in city life from w ith in — not passively but energetically day by day and w ith o u t the rigid au thoritarian a priori principles of geometric "o rder."
6 . QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS ABOUT ARCHITECTURAL WRITING
Is there not a risk that the codification of the modern language of architecture will lead to a new academicism? Will not the seven invariables tend to become precepts like those of the Beaux-Arts school, albeit in the opposite direction?
This question is typical of m any architects' m entality . Im agi nary specters are invented to avoid the responsibility of trying out som ething new . W hy no t try, instead, to design a building or teach a course in design based on these invariables? T he doubts will vanish the m inu te you start listing functions.
Language concerns forms of communication, but is not the present problem rather concerned with the content of those forms? And, in the last analysis, does not the architect 's role in society depend on that very content?
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The first invariable, inventorying, is specifically concerned w ith functional content, building program s, and social behavior. If this invariable is neglected, the w hole construct falls apart or, rather, makes no sense because there is nothing to express in dissonance, nothing to decom pose and reintegrate. This proves th a t the m od ern language w ill no t tolerate alibis or excuses. If the question of content is evaded, there can be only regression to classicism.
A system of criticism based on the invariables may provide criteria for judging a finished building, but what about a design, and especially a city plan?
The invariables provide a precision instrum ent for checking every stage of design, from the prelim inary sketch to the final w orking draw ings. This has been verified a hundred tim es at the draw ing board and in the classroom. O f course in a rough plan you cannot, for exam ple, estim ate the exact degree of disso nance or four-dim ensional decom position. But the critical m ethod is still appropriate; one asks, can the design at this stage still accom m odate the principle of dissonance and decom position? If the answ er is no, then the design is closed, reactionary, and classi cist and should be repudiated . In the first stages, functional listing alone m ay be enough. But one m ust m ake sure th a t the design is sufficiently open to accom m odate the o ther invariables.
The act of designing is not carried out in stages, applying one invariable after another. Usually architects work in synthetic fashion conceiving the whole design at once. So how can the seven invariables be applied?
They m ust be used to m ake sure tha t the synthesis, w hich is perfectly legitim ate in itself, is not rigid. O ne does no t have to start w ith analysis before proceeding to synthesis, bu t if the sy n thesis cannot pass the functional and sem antic test, it m eans that it has fallen in to classicism.
Is it ever possible to reach total zero degree culturally? Does Barthes' "zero degree in writing " really exist? Do not creative spirits make revolutions by taking what is positive from the past and the present and incorporating it into their vision of the future?
Suffice it to consider the relationship betw een Latin and Italian. The vulgar tongue brought Latin to zero degree in the sense tha t it destructured its code. True, it retained several elem ents, bu t it took them ou t of the context of the old language and gave them a d ifferent context. In the same w ay, m odern architecture
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takes w hat is good from the past and reveals its anticlassical essence. It rejects and annihilates not the past bu t the corruption of it th a t w as carried out by B eaux-A rts norm s.
But why condemn symmetry, which is so common in ancient architecture and even raises its head in several works by Wright?
Cesare Beccaria, w riting about crime and pun ishm ent (Dei delitti e delle pene, 1764 ), was in terested in prisons, no t in free dem ocratic com m unities. Yet he said, "It is a false sense of u tility th a t w ould try to give a m u ltitude of people th a t sym m etry and order which only inanim ate m aterial can absorb ." T hat epigraph ought to be carved on the draw ing boards of architects and city planners. If a building is conceived as an inanim ate m onum ental object, only to be looked at and not to be used, then sym m etry is fine, because it is a perfect reflection of political and bureaucratic au tho rita rian ism. But if a build ing m ust perform specific functions and accom m odate particular contents, it cannot be sym m etrical, because sym m etry, like harm ony in music, binds every elem ent to w hat has gone before and w hat comes after and to w hat is above and below. Sym m etry sacrifices the particular and individual on the altar of overall design, w hich is uniform , hierarchical, and un a lte r able. As for W right, it m ust be said th a t you cannot invent a new language in a single day. He had to fight the reigning classi cism (architectural "L atin"), and there is no th ing scandalous in the fact th a t he som etim es used partially sym m etrical schemes. But w hat is m ore im portan t in W right, the rare leftovers of trad i tion or his revolutionary messages? The academ ic eye concentrates on w hatever is obsolete in a genius, from Brunelleschi to Palladio. W hat we should look at are their original achievem ents. W hy is there such fear of dissonance and asym m etry? The linguist Giacomo D evoto w rote in II linguaggio d'ltalia: "It is strange that qualified scholars are so reluctant to accept the fertile principle of the contraposition of the m arginal and the central, w hich has m arked the great transition from one-dim ensional to tw o -d im en sional linguistics, in preparation for the th ree-d im ensional disci pline of m odern sociological linguistics." Sym m etry flattens and dim inishes, w hile our lexical needs are im m ense. As early as the first cen tury b .c ., Lucretius again and again deplored the sermonis patrii egestas, the poverty of the national idiom . A nd D evoto contin-
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ues: "P lato 's hypothesis of language as nomos, as 'law ' or 'conven tio n / led to the concept of 'analogy.' W hat Plato called language's 'creativ ity ' or energeia led to the doctrine of 'anom aly .' . . ." Devo- to 's incisive verdict on the Italian language could also be applied to architecture: "A selective, classicist, subjective exigency, and hence an im poverishing one, w on out over the functional exigency which enriches the idiom. This is a feature of the Italian language that has been felt th roughou t its history dow n to our ow n tim es." The fear of change leads to the geom etric and to sym m etry.
Nowadays no one is interested in problems of architectural language or in architecture generally. The challenge comes from outside the field and concerns the struggle for a new kind of city and a different environment. Why bother about the seven invariables?
To m ake the battle more successful and spirited. T his came out clearly in regard to a housing project built in Rom e in the Pietralata area. A group of leftist students set up a "p ro test d is p lay" about the conditions in tha t area. There were posters w ith photographs docum enting the lack of service facilities, the dem onstrations th a t had been staged by the residents, police action, and so on. T hey m ade a lot of noise, bu t there was very little in the w ay of concrete achievem ent in this protest. A t a certain point, how ever, the students decided to m ake an analysis of the neighborhood in term s of the seven invariables. They produced more posters show ing th a t none of the invariables had been ap plied in the design of the area. The display was no longer dem a gogic, and it was infinitely more persuasive.
Rnally, why is it that the modern language of architecture has not been codified before? What caused this inexplicable delay, when the new language could have been used extensively in the profession and in the schools during these past decades of feverish building?
No answ er to this anguished and alm ost obsessive question can provide any th ing m ore than mere consolation. O ne m ay cite a variety of reasons: (1) as long as the m asters of the m odern m ovem ent were still alive and active, the illusion persisted tha t some "m anner" connected w ith their styles could take the place of a codified language; (2) structuralism , semiotics, and linguistics were not sufficiently developed to shake the w orld of architecture; (3) it took a total reduction to zero degree, no t just in architecture
Afterthoughts 85
but existentially as well, as in the Paris spring of 1968, to stim ulate the codification of a dem ocratic idiom . All these explanations are plausible, and others as well, bu t they are tautological. The question rem ains. Schoenberg created and codified the language of m odern music. W right, Le C orbusier, G ropius, and M endelsohn created the language of m odern architecture, bu t they did not codify it. W hy? W hy d id n 't som eone else do it, then, and spare architecture decades of w aste and destruction , false ideologies, and desperate flights into the past and future? In any case, the tim e has come to spread the dem ocratic language of architecture.
29. The "Modulor" by Le Corbusier, a metric scale based upon golden sections and human measures (cartoon by Jan van Goethem). Corbu's purism simplifies the process of Cubism in a classical key. Conscious of this danger, Le Corbusier denied the purist trend from the Chapelle de Ronchamp on.
Part T wo: Architecture versus Architectural History
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Preceding pages: 30-31. A meeting ground of two architectural geniuses: Borromini's spiral atop Sant'Ivo alia Sapienza, Rome (1642-60), and W right's helicoidal Guggenheim M u seum, New York (1946-59). Above: 32- 37 . H istoriography passively registered in nineteenth-century revivals: neo- Greek (British M useum, London), neo-Roman (Pantheon, Paris), neo-M edievalism (Prison, W ürzburg), neo-Gothic (Trinity Church, New York), neo-Renaissance (Haughwout Building, New York), and neo-Baroque (Opera, Paris).
Introduction: Anticlassicism and Le Corbusier
In Part O ne I show ed th a t the p resen t-day architectural code concerns no t only the m asters of the n ineteen th and tw en tie th centuries bu t all architects w ho, over the span of h istory , fought against dogm a, hallow ed and entrenched precepts, a priori ideolo gies and theories of style, form al taboos, and the canons of classicism.
The m odern language emerged and m atured out of a sim ultane ously creative and critical com m itm ent w hich, on the one hand, stands for the righ t to speak architecture in a w ay th a t differs from the classical and, on the other, explores h istory in the search for new roots in the past. W e "w rite" architecture in a different language because we "read" it in a heterodox fram e of m ind. T he im pulse to w rite coincides w ith th a t of rereading the ancient texts and thus avoiding false interpretations. A rchitects have th row n off the strictures of classicism. Similarly, h istorians spurn academic m ethods of exam ining and judging m onum ents. In fact, the critic, from Baudelaire to van D oesburg, is o ften tim es one w ith the artist.
H ow has the tim e-space language, from n ine teen th -cen tu ry eclecticism to the present day, become structured? This is the them e of the presen t study, w hich will trace the dialogue betw een architecture and historiography, and record the points of contact betw een linguistic invention and critical research. The breach be tw een the old and the new architecture can be likened to the distance betw een, say, Latin and Italian or French, one an extinct tongue, the o thers living— w ith the difference, how ever, tha t clas sicism is no t a real language bu t ra ther an ideology aim ing to
92 The Modern Language of Architecture
codify any "style” by laying down abstract formulas and arbitrary regulations.
To begin with, we must repudiate two persistent misunder standings. One is the romantic myth of the ascetic poet who stands aloof from all dialectic involvements with cultural and linguistic events. It is easy to prove that every authentic architect nurtures his inspiration by delving into the past. His elective affinities, however partial they may be, are more significant, gen erally, than those of the critics because he must face emergencies of the moment and resolve them. The second fallacy is that one can grasp modern architecture without a deep knowledge of its precedents. A brief survey of the cross purposes that marked the most important linguistic ruptures, from the present back to prehistory, will disprove this misapprehension once and for all.
As a point of departure, let us consider the most famous expo nents of the modern movement, Frank Lloyd Wright and Le Cor busier. Both were endowed with strongly individualistic visions of architecture, yet they culled their ideas from definite historical contexts. Wright was a devotee of Henri Louis Sullivan, "Lieber Meister, " who, in turn, was dependent on the neo-Romanesque of Henry Hobson Richardson and, by opposition, on American eclecticism. Le Corbusier harked back to the origin of European rationalism, to the puritanism of Adolf Loos, enemy of the Vienna Secession, the Austrian counterpart of the Art Nouveau move ment created by the Brussels architect Victor Horta in 1893 and spearheaded by Henry van de Velde, passionate apostle of the English Arts and Crafts school. With the Red House, built for William Morris in 1859, came the birth of modern architecture. But we can understand Morris' reform only if we put it within
38-44. A retrospective view of the modern architectural movement. From the top: Wright's Falling Water, Bear Run, Pennsylvania (1936-39) and Le Corbusier's Maison La Roche, Auteuil, near Paris (1923); Guaranty Building in Buffalo, by Dankmar Adler and Louis H. Sullivan (1894) and Adolf Loos's house in the Not- hartgasse, Vienna (1913); Ames Gate Lodge in North Easton, Massachusetts, by Henry H. Richardson (1880) and railing of Victor Horta's studio, St. Gilles, Brussels (1898). Below: Red House, designed by Philip Webb for William Morris, Bexley Heath, Kent (1859), which marked the birth of the modern movement.
94 The Modern Language of Architecture
the context of the neo-Gothic culture anticipated as far back as 1747 in Horace W alpole's country mansion at Strawberry Hill, near London. The re-evaluation of the Middle Ages was a weapon wielded to combat neoclassicism, the origin of which can be traced back to the ambiguous position toward the Baroque of a Juvarra or a Vanvitelli. Now we can proceed faster. Mannerism, particu larly Michelangelo's abrupt departures from the classical, linked the Baroque w ith the sixteenth century. The fifteenth-century reversion to the sixteenth was heralded by Bramante's arrival in Rome. Between the early Renaissance and the Gothic stands the cupola of the Duomo of Florence, work of Arnolfo di Cambio and Brunelleschi, as well as the humanistic examples in medieval language, such as San Miniato al M onte in Florence and the por tico of the Civita Castellana cathedral. The continuity from Gothic back to Romanesque is well known. Thus, we arrive at Sant'Am- brogio in Milan, St. M artin in Tours, and the abbey in Cluny, begun around a .d . 960. The Romanesque world reverts to the High Middle Ages, to the church of San Pietro in Tuscania, to the caesuras which measure the nave of Santa Maria in Cosmedin in Rome, thence to the Byzantine cycle and the paleo-Christian tradition, which takes us to the first century a .d ., to the Roman basilica of Porta Maggiore and the catacombs. The concept of “late ancient" refers to the close affinities between Christianity and Roman art, which sprang from a dual source: first, the Etrus can civilization, the Italic period, and European prehistory; and second, Hellenism and archaic Greece, which carried forward the Cretan culture and therefore the culture of the Near East, whose origins trail back, once more, into protohistory.
45- 56 . A backward glance from nineteenth-century eclecticism to prehistory. From the top: Horace Walpole's neo-Gothic country house at Strawberry Hill (1747) and Reggia at Caserta, by Luigi Vanvitelli (1752- 74); Michelangelo's Palazzo dei Conservatori, Rome (1546), and Bramante's Tempietto di San Pietro in Montorio, Rome (1501); cupola of the Duomo in Florence, by Filippo Brunelleschi (1420) and church of San Pietro in Tuscania (eighth century); Catacombs of Domitilla, Rome (third century) and Roman aqueduct at Gard (Pont du Gard) near Nimes (a.d. 14); the Parthenon at Athens (447-432 b.c.) and the palace at Phaestos (2000 b.c .); trade exchanges between Crete and the ancient Orient, and dolmen at Carnac, Britanny (about 1500 b.c.).
96 The Modern Language of Architecture
To grasp the m atrix of the language professed by W righ t and Le C orbusier, we m ust go back to the fourth m illennium b.c. and then travel in the aeons preceding the discovery o f writing. W hat do we exclude? The Far East; C hinese, Indian, Japanese, and Russian architecture; African and pre-C olum bian m onum ents of the Americas. Even this is inaccurate, not only because the M exican pyram ids of Cholula and Teotihuacän docum ent the exchanges betw een the eastern M editerranean and C en tral A m er ica, bu t m ainly because O riental and prehistoric influences su p plied a param eter to m odern art. References to M ayan culture and direct borrow ings from the Japanese crop up frequen tly in W right's work.
The analogies betw een the M iddle Ages and the A rts and Crafts m ovem ent, G othic and A rt N ouveau, Renaissance and m odern rationalism , Baroque and organic architecture— as w ell as the seven invariables of the contem porary language deriving from them —are the subject m atter of the four chapters th a t follow, w ith a concluding section on prehistory. This leaves aside ancient Greece and Rome, a logical om ission inasm uch as the new archi tecture has tu rned its back on the classicism form alized by the B eaux-A rts academ y. But are the Hellenic and R om an arts tru ly irretrievable? Let us exam ine this question.
The G reek patrim ony was first organized into a h istorical system in 1755 by Johann Joachim W inckelm ann in his Gedanken über die Nachahmung der Griechischen Werke in der Malerei und Bildhauerkunst, and subsequently by James S tuart and Nicholas R evett in their Antiquities of Athens (1762), by the achievem ents of the D ilettan ti Society (1769), and by Lord Elgin's sensational exploit in rem oving the Parthenon m arbles to London in 1801. A m oun ting fervor for Hellenism was fu rther stim ulated by the G reek w ar of inde-
57-59. Monuments of extra-European cultures which have influenced the devel opment of modern architecture. Above: Sun Pyramid at Teotihuacän, Mexico (sec ond century), evidence of exchanges between Eastern Mediterranean culture and pre-Columbian America. Center: Temple of Quetzalcoatl at Teotihuacän, Mexico (ninth century), with decorations that inspired some of Frank Lloyd Wright's plastic experiments. Below: Phoenix Hall in the Temple of Byödö-in, near Kyoto, dating back to the Heian period (1053). Besides Wright, ancient Japanese architec ture influenced numerous European architects, including Bruno Taut.
98 The Modern Language of Architecture
pendence in 1821 . The great archaeological digs of 1750-80 and the studies they sparked fomented the Greek Revival in Great Britain: the Bank of England (1795- 1827), designed by John Soane, reinterprets the Corinthian order of the Temple of the Sybil at Tivoli; St. Pancras church (1819- 22), by William Inwood, imitates the Erechtheum; while Robert Smirke consecrated the neo-Greek style in the British Museum (1823) in London. In Germany, Karl Gotthard Langhans conceived the Brandenburg Gate (1789) in Berlin in terms of the Propylaea of the Acropolis in Athens, and Leo von Klenze set about hellenizing the city of M unich from 1816 , while Karl Schinkel, although a sometime devotee of the Gothic, adopted classic elements in the theater and in the “Neue Wache" in Berlin, as well as in the church of St. Nikolaus (1843- 49) in Potsdam. The contagious fever for Greek models spread across the Atlantic and, from 1820 to 1860 , infected the United States, where Benjamin Latrobe and William Strickland were the most ardent champions of the revival.
All this, however, is extraneous to our theme, since it makes no contribution to the development of the modern architectural language, in fact only hinders it. Such classicist structures as, for example, the Church of the Madeleine in Paris and St. George's Hall in Liverpool attest to the unconditional surrender of art to erudition: glacial, emphatic magnifications of museum plaster, which in northern Europe, however, virtually evaporated in the fog, and consequently had no real dependence on archaeological scholarship.
Heretical, on the other hand, in the anti-Beaux-Arts sense, was Le Corbusier's love for Greece. During a pilgrimage he made to
60—63. Le Corbusier's sketches of the Athenian Acropolis, published in Vers une Architecture (1923). From the top: the Parthenon seen from the Propylaea; a glimpse of the Propylaea from the stylobate of the Parthenon; the Acropolis, showing the “pure” volume of the Parthenon; the Temple of Athena. Following pages: 64-69. Left: the Acropolis in Athens seen from the air; the crude rock at the foot of the Parthenon; the square lacunars of the Parthenon. Right: Le Corbusier's "pure" volume of the Villa Savoye at Poissy (1929); skyscrapers in Le Corbusier's cityscape of Antwerp (1933); a museum quad with unlimited expansion, designed by Le Corbusier (1939).
102 The Modern Language of Architecture
that country in his youth, he discovered architectural values com pletely obliterated by the revivalists. He indicated the anticlassic features of the Hellenic language as follows:
—the taste for isolated volumes, autonomous prisms in the light, freely situated over an irregular landscape and cast in ele mentary geometrical schemes, as exemplified by the squares of Phidias' lacunary ceiling—a prophecy of modern Purism;
—the urban grids of Priene, Miletus, and, in general, all the cities laid out according to Hippodamus' principles—grids similar to those of the contemporary metropolis;
—molding. O n the suspended prism of Corbu's Villa Savoye at Poissy, we see sensuous, chromatic, curved planes as the culmi nating element of the "promenade architecturale." These "objets a reaction poetique, " infusing the rigid, rational stereometries with lyrical qualities, are the offshoots of the entases and echini, the fluting, and the thousand imperceptible inflections of a vibrant Greek arithmetic—plastic adjectives which become disruptive substantives in the Ronchamp block.
The knottiest problem confronting the modern architectural language was that of surmounting the Renaissance perspective vision. To solve it, Le Corbusier reverted to a classical language that predated perspective. He produced authentic testimonies from ancient Greece which clamorously confuted Beaux-Arts aca demic doctrines.
The influence of the Roman heritage on modern architecture is both hybrid and complex. It takes on the individual stamp of its mediators, from Palladio to neoclassic erudition. Not infre quently neo-Roman merged with neo-Greek. Robert W ood's tomes on Palmyra and Baalbek (1753- 57) and the description of the palace of Diocletian in Split in Architectural Antiquities of
70-71. Le Corbusier and the Greek town grid. Above: plan of Priene, according to Patrice Bonnet. The Acropolis (end of the fourth century b.c .) is located near the top, close to the mountains. Below: plan of Chandigarh, capital of Punjab, India, layout by Le Corbusier. The Capitol with the main public buildings is located in the upper sector, close to the mountains. Following pages: 72-73. Model of Chandigarh, with the grid system and the Capitol at the north. Insert: Model of Priene, with the grid system and the Acropolis at the north.
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74-77. Separation of volumes from the ground, and plastic moldings in Greek culture and in Le Corbusier's work. Left: stylobate of the Temple of Afaia at Egina (fifth century b.c.) and a capital of one of the columns of the Propylaea at A thens (437-33 b.c.). Right: pilotis of Le Corbusier's Villa Savoye in Poissy (cf. 67) and interior of a house at Porte Molitor, Paris (1933). Following pages: 78-80. Fluting and entasis of the Parthenon columns. M olded walls of Le Corbusi er's Chapelle de Ronchamp (1950-53). The ''objects w ith poetic reaction," discov ered during the research carried out into Greek moldings, involve the structural organism (cf. 183).
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110 The Modern Language of Architecture
Rome (1821), by George Ledwell Taylor and Edward Cresy, stimu lated elegant, flexible evocations, particularly in the United States where Thomas Jefferson created the uncommon beauties of Mon- ticeilo (1790-1820) and recreated the Pantheon in the library of the University of Virginia w ithout excessive philological com punction. Cold and pedantic, on the other hand, are numerous European buildings identified with the Roman revival. To cite a few: in Great Britain, St. George's Hall (1839), Liverpool, by Har vey Elmes and C. R. Cockerell, imitating the tepidarium of the Baths of Caracalla; in Paris, Germain Soufflot's Pantheon (1757- 90) and Barthelemy Vignon's Madeleine (1806-42); in Italy, the works of Luigi Canina, Luigi Cagnola, and Pasquale Poccianti. The syncretic and adaptable nature of the ancient Roman con structions made imitations especially feasible where vast internal spaces were needed, such as bank interiors or the great hall of Pennsylvania Station (1906) in New York. But the Roman heritage leads to monumentalism, as witness even the stylized neo-Roman of Tony Garnier's stadium in Lyons and Paul Bonatz's railroad station in Stuttgart, not to mention the monstrous corruptions perpetrated in Italy by Marcello Piacentini, the Fascist architect.
No artist can be found who defied arrogant academic exegesis to point out the orignal qualities of Roman architecture in modern terms. Instead, this challenge was met in 1895 by the historian Franz Wickhoff in his book Die Wiener Genesis and, in 1901, by Alois Riegl in Spätrömische Kunstindustrie. Both authors identified Rome's special contribution in the "method of continuing narra tion," in the filmlike procession of figures spiraling on the Trajan and Antonine columns; in the stage sets wholly built for the amphitheaters which, unlike the Greek theaters, were never situa ted in positions where they could use the landscape as backdrops;
81. Cross vaults in Hadrian's Villa, Tivoli (a.d. 118-38). Ancient Roman architec ture prompted one of the nineteenth-century revivals, exemplified by the Pan theon in Paris, by Germain Soufflot (cf. 33). Only very few artists could be inspired by ancient Rome without regressing into monumentalism, and this is why the “Romanist" trend was firmly rejected by modern architects. However, the “moder nity" of the Roman language, particularly in the orchestration of interior spaces and in the "mode of continuing narration," was revealed by the Viennese historian Franz Wickhoff at the end of the last century.
112 The Modern Language of Architecture
and in the immense spaces of the basilicas and baths, with their soaring cupolas and vaults. Even when they conquered Greece, the Roman invaders crowded the acropolises, notably that of Olympia, with new gymnasiums, galleries, porticos, temples, and enclosing walls, blocking out the panoramic views. The "contin uum," inherent in the very techniques of the conglomerate, saw its triumph during the reign of Hadrian and in the late Roman period, at Baalbek, at Split, and in the so-called Temple of Mi nerva Medica in Rome. It is not surprising that we find analogies between Hadrian's Villa at Tivoli and the Florida Southern College (1938) by Frank Lloyd Wright, or that an architect like Louis Kahn would take broad hints from Roman ruins to shape his ideas.
The development of modern architecture, therefore, progresses hand in hand with a cultural excavation, speaking figuratively, which drastically altered the methods adopted by traditional his toriography and the results it had achieved. There is no gap be tween the way we write or speak architecture and the way we read it. If the misunderstanding that the contemporary code has broken away from the past persists and instigates reactionary attitudes grounded in pseudoenvironmental theories, this is only because too many among us are unable to cast off time-honored prejudices recognizing the modern, operational values of the an cient monuments and their pertinence to present-day problems. The purpose of this book is to show that the vitality of today's architectural language is one with the task of interpreting history in a modern, almost futuristic version, so as to make it act effec tively as an incentive to creativity. The passive imitation that
82 - 84 . Space in ancient Rome and its reflections in contemporary architecture. Above: Theater of Dionysus, Athens, a natural cavea with the city and surrounding landscape as its backdrop (330 b.c.). Center: Flavian Amphitheater (Colosseum), Rome, where all the visible scenery is man-built (a.d. 75- 80 ) . Below: Louis Kahn's project for the new Philadelphia ( 1956 ) . Following pages: 85 - 87 . Convention Hall in Dacca, Bangladesh, by Louis Kahn ( 1970 ) . The "Pecile" at Hadrian's Villa, Tivoli: sketch by Le Corbusier and view.
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116 The Modern Language of Architecture
w ent w ith revivalism and the indifference of som e avantguardists tow ard h istory are bo th deplorable and absurd. T he h istoriograph ical revolution is an indispensable accomplice of the architectural revolution.
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Preceding pages: 94. Medieval street in Perugia. Following the functional listing methodology, it is free of any a priori scheme. Above: 95-96. Prison in Pittsburgh (1884) and Crane Library in Q uincy, M assachusetts (1880), by Henry Hobson Richardson (cf. 42), master of American neo-R om an esque, which anticipated the same movement in Holland, led by H endrik Petrus Berlage (cf. 104). W ith neoclassicism and neo-Gothic dom inating the Beaux-Arts system, the Romanesque revival was instrumental in liberating architecture from the most dogmatic styles.
VIII
Medievalist Culture, A rts and Crafts, and Neo-Romanesque: Functional Listing as Design Methodology
John R uskin (1819-1900) and W illiam M orris (1834-96) headed the m ovem ent to re-evaluate the M iddle Ages. British enthusiasm for the G othic had been so enduring tha t it survived far beyond its ow n period and continued to thrive th rough the reigns of Elizabeth I, the Stuarts, and the four Georges despite the em phasis pu t on R enaissance architecture by Inigo Jones and C hristopher W ren. Long before Ruskin published The Seven Lamps of Architecture (1849) and Stones of Venice (1851), Britons had been reading such w idely diffused w orks as Gothic Architecture Improved (1742), by Batty Langley; A n Attempt to Discriminate the Gothic Styles (1819), by Thom as Rickman; The Architectural Antiquities of Great Britain and The Cathedral Antiquities of Great Britain (1807-36), by John Britton. O f particular im portance w ere the volum es of A ugustus Pugin, Specimens of Gothic Architecture (1821) and Examples of Gothic Architecture (1831), as well as the m ore incisive and better know n w orks by his son A. W elby Pugin, Contrasts; or a Parallel between the Architecture of the 15th and 19th Centuries (1836), True Principles of Christian Architecture (1841), and An Apology for the Revival of Gothic Architecture in England (1843), w hich b rought the revolt against classicism to the boiling point.
In m id-cen tu ry , therefore, R uskin p lanted his ideas in a terrain already well seeded; it should be rem em bered th a t in 1836 the classicist C harles Barry, architect for W estm inster Palace in Lon don, had en tru sted the G othic-sty le ornam entations of this bu ild ing to A. W elby Pugin. It was necessary, how ever, to give the m edieval revival a different orientation , cutting it adrift from m ystic m oralism and secularizing it. To this end, the R om anesque precedents in Venice and all th rough no rthern Italy were of greater
123
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value than the im pressive cathedrals of France and England. Both Ruskin and M orris focused on the social and ethical aspects of m edieval expression and stressed its popular character more than its structural virtuosities. In fact, they belittled the n ineteen th - century engineering feats of Brunei, Paxton, and Eiffel, spurred on in France by Eugene V iollet-le-D uc's theoretical contributions, as we shall see in the next chapter.
Everywhere m edievalism proved to be the w eapon for tearing dow n classicism. Even in a country like Italy, dom inated by aca demic bias, Cam illo Boito prefaced his book Architettura del Medio Evo in Italia (1880) w ith a trenchant essay, “ O n the Future Style of Italian A rch itec tu re /' advancing theses already cham pioned in England for over th irty years.
In this essay Boito aim ed his deadly darts against the architects of the H igh Renaissance because they “ froze even the charm s and gaiety of country houses w ith colonnades, frontispieces, and the bom bast of Rom an public m onum ents. These agreeable re treats, w here m an seeks respite from life's fatigues (how well Horace discoursed on this subject!) should offer him all the com bined pleasures of rest and tranquility ; yet, w ith tiresom e punctili ousness, those w ho designed them slavishly copied the exact p ro portions of Rom an m onum ents, allowing for few spacious rooms, w ith w indow s th a t seem ed to dread the surrounding nature and extrem ely high, dark, vaulted ceilings, thus tu rn ing delight into pom pous boredom . W hoever w ishes to m easure the intelligence six teen th-century architects applied to their im itations of Rom an architecture should com pare P liny's villa w ith one of the m ost praised m ansions conceived by a great craftsm an am idst the blessed hills of Vicenza, the R otonda of Capra. He will see tha t whereas the Rom ans invested their houses and villas w ith organic unity , in the Renaissance im itations the organism was captive, indeed it vanished under a preponderant, tyrannical symbolism. . . . This was an era of rules and precepts, w hen architecture was reduced to mere form ulas, in a series of arithm etic relation ships, in contrivances of a few pre-established forms. . . . This apish irrationality soon degenerated into ranting irra tionality ."
If this verdict on the six teenth century and the Baroque sounds som ew hat categorical, Boito's attack on neoclassicism smacked
Medievalist Culture 125
of sarcasm: “ A rchitecture did not reach back to its sources, rather it was con ten t w ith second-hand erudition , it im itated the im ita tors. A ntonio C anova thou g h t to build a vast and rich tem ple at his ow n expense, as indeed he did at Possagno, his birthplace. O n the fifth of A ugust 1818, he w rote to the architect G iannanto- nio Selva, 'I considered it w ise to m ention it only to a few of the best architects am ong us and tell them of m y project and how I p lanned to execute it, tha t is, to follow the m odel of some fam ous m onum ent, w ithou t adding any o ther invention to i t / Selva gave his approval just as the Rom an architects and the San Luca A cadem y had already done. Soon after, Selva died, w hereupon C anova sought the valued advice of A ntonio D iedo, and explained th a t the atrium 'o f the church is borrow ed from the Parthenon and the o ther parts from o ther ancient tem ples.' W e need no t w onder tha t Canova was taken w ith such a passion for classicism th a t he w ould copy idolatrous tem ples in m inute detail for a C hristian church. N or should it seem strange that others w ere of a like mind. But let us take note of D iedo 's reply: 'In my opinion, the plan leaves no th ing to be desired. The facade is superb, b u t m ay I boldly presum e to express a doubt? That is, w hether it is right to reproduce the P arthenon and all its defects w ithou t altering it in any m inim al part, or w hether to m ake some small m odifications w hereby to purge it of those defects. Such w ould be, I believe, to narrow the tw o end in tercolum niations. N or w ould I hesitate to m ake all the in tercolum niations equal by pu tting the trig lyph of the last colum n on the axis instead of on the angle.' This purifier of the Parthenon, w hose ignorance was paten tly abysm al, was w idely acclaimed in the V eneto region as architect and au tho r of elegant prose. D escribing the C hurch of the Redeem er in Venice, he cried, 'H ere is the tem ple that eclipses all o thers, even the m ost exalted and m arvelous.' But then a w orry gnaw ed at his viscera because the height of the nave 'falls by about two feet from the harm onious m ean,' and com m ented th a t this m ust have been an oversight of the builders since it was un th inkab le th a t Palladio 'could have slept over a m atter of such great m om ent.' Again, in a speech, D iedo lauded Selva for w riting a 'd isserta tion on the Ionic volute, in w hich he developed the though ts of the m ost renow ned architects and
126 The Modern Language of Architecture
plunged into the m ost abstruse researches w ith keen insight. Thus, architecture was being w asted on the hom eopathic purges of the building it was aping, on the 'harm onious m ean ' and the 'abstruse researches' in to the Ionic volute."
Boito was chiding the classicists tw ice over for their follies, first for designing buildings like so m any boxes, axial, w ith head- on perspectives, dreary, antifunctional, and servile to the taboos of sym m etry and proportion; and, second, for system atically be traying the very tenets of an tiqu ity by w hich th ey professed to be inspired. T hey sacrificed both the past and th e present to an ideological a priori and to Beaux-A rts design dogm atism . Boito called the situation in Italy, w here academic conform ity reigned, virtually critical: "W e are a restless and lazy people. W e take no trouble to study the ancients, and we battle against the new. W e scorn originality and despise im itation. W e are at once skepti cal and ridden w ith prejudices, we are scholars yet we sco£f at philosophy, we are well grounded in our judgm ents and yet n a tu rally inconstan t in our im agination. Classicism has burdened us w ith a patrim ony of rhetoric, the neo-C atholic school w ith a patrim ony of sentim entalism tinged w ith hypocrisy and m alig nance. These tw o literary influences, w idespread bu t fortunately in decline, are ru in ing our schools and our arts."
Italian Eclecticism, in fact, never shared th a t irreverence w hich allowed o ther European and American architects to take the forms of various periods ou t of their historical context and blend them together in pastiches w hich, how ever horrible, at least dem on strated their free will. It was altogether puritan , it w ould never sanction any m ixture of styles. Boito goes on: "Italian art critics counsel us to follow the M oorish style in our theaters, the Gothic in our churches, the Greek in our city gates, the Rom an in our
97-99. Above: auditorium in the Palace of Catalonian Music, Barcelona (1905), by Lluis Domenech i Montaner, who championed an unorthodox Eclecticism taking past styles out of their context and mixing them together. Center: water tank in Leghorn (1809), by Pasquale Poccianti, exponent of "puritan" Eclecticism, who outlawed stylistic contaminations. Below: electric powerhouse at Trezzo d'Adda (1906), by Gaetano Moretti, the finest example of Italian neo-Romanesque, which appeared much later than Richardson's in the United States and Berlage's in the Netherlands.
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stock exchanges, the m edieval m unicipal in our civic buildings, English Tudor, Italian, or French Renaissance in our houses, and so on. A different architecture for every k ind of structure. Some w ould like to see our cem eteries in Egyptian style, o thers would like us to borrow form s and concepts from the C hinese and Turks. A poet once sang— and w ith good reason: 'Toujours Thonnete komme ouvrit / La fenetre des vieux ages / Pour aerer son esprit' (The honest man alw ays opens / The w indow of rem ote ages / To refresh his spirit). But we ventilate ourselves so m uch th a t a courtesan, as Shakespeare pu t it, w ould catch cold."
Hence, since a w holly new architecture "canno t spring from an architect's brain; cannot discard the past altogether; cannot blend a p lurality of styles or ape any one of them ; m ust be na tional; m ust stem freely from a single Italian sty le of bygone times bu t elim inate the archeological aspects of th a t style to be com pletely m odern ," w hat should be selected? "T h e architect m ust feel th a t he has in hand a style w hich adap ts easily and responsively to every case; w hich offers some m eans of adorning every nonsym m etrical part of a structure w hen th is is necessary; w hich is spared the tedious traits of preconceived form s; which is free of abstract rapports; w hich is as rich as need be, yet modest; which can em ploy tall, short, thick, or th in colum ns, high, low, wide, or narrow w indow s, m ullioned or th ree-m ullioned , cornices wide and ju tting or m erely suggested, big, sw eeping archivolts or small, arched lintels, slim pilasters and stou t bu ttresses, arches strong and soaring or small and slender, delicate ornam entation and m assive foliage; w hich, in short, uses a language th a t abounds in w ords and phrases, unfettered in its syntax, im aginative and precise, poetic and scientific, fitting neatly in to the expression of the m ost diverse and difficult ideas. W e can find the essence of such a language in Lom bard architecture and the m unicipal m anners of the fourteen th century. . . . Indeed, in the Lombard style, w hich spread from the northern provinces to central Italy and the N aples area in the eleventh and tw elfth centuries, deco rum w ent together w ith economy. C onstructions in cu t stone, w ith small pieces and diagonal joints, had need of on ly small volumes; geom etrical o rnam entation and regular foliage w ere ex ecuted w ith intelligence bu t no t too scrupulously; stone com po-
Medievalist Culture 129
nents and walls form ed a single un it, ruling out keystones, hinges, and o ther such appendages w hich do so m uch dam age to b u ild ings. Finally, each part of the w hole could stand out by itself, offering a chance to create singularly beautifu l effects. M aterials, labor, and installation were less costly and m ore useful than in any o ther type of architecture. Every ordinary elem ent th a t could not be h idden w ith o u t dam age was designed w ith art: chim neys, roof gutters, w ater spouts, tiebeam bolts, conduits, dorm ers, and so on. T he fou rteen th -cen tu ry m unicipal style possessed these virtues. To be sure, we m ust overlook such effusions as the m osa ics of the C osm ati school, the inlays of the Florence D uom o, the spiral colum ns, the intricate perforations, the w him s and ca prices; bu t, even w ithou t them , w hat riches still rem ain to draw from the public palaces, the churches, the cloisters, and the houses of th a t great century! W e boldly m aintain tha t, over the coming years, the crude bu t fecund Italian style we call Lom bard for w ant of a better term will becom e the architecture of the new Italy, how ever it m ay be developed, refined, and m odernized."
A m asterly diagnosis in disfavor of classicism, Boito's, bu t a w eak therapy. H ad his prediction come true, Italy w ould have leapt to the forefront of the m odern m ovem ent. In any case, the fervent exhortation in behalf of the early M iddle Ages sprang from the very same m otives as those th a t im pelled W illiam M orris to cham pion the A rts and C rafts reform , w hich called for:
— an ap titude for description; a narrative, flexible design m ethod. M odern building program s had becom e m ore and more diversified—houses, schools, factories, office blocks, railroad s ta tions, hospitals, and so forth— but their specific function was m asked behind pseudo-G reek and -R om an grandiosity , or behind the Renaissance orders, w hich im posed stern rules on axes, sym m etry, proportion , and central perspective. Com pared w ith the m agniloquent classicist com position, any m edieval street appears far m ore varied in its profiles, its outlines and unrepeated rhy thm s, appropriate to its functional requirem ents and dynam ics of reality. In this independence from preconceived norm s and stylistic fo r m ulas, we discover a pressing ethical com m itm ent to preserve the close bond betw een architecture and daily life against the fatu ities of revivalism.
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—organic unity . If every elem ent of a building can “ stand out by i tse lf / ' then it is rid of the dichotom y th a t typifies so m uch classic architecture: a box w ith rooms inside and a colonnade to dress up the box; or, as in H aussm ann's Paris, first Jhe facade and then the structure m ore or less adapted to it. The Lombard style rejected B yzantine mosaics as too precious and restored the value of m aterials and bare walls, thus capping a trend already evident in H igh M iddle Ages constructions. Similarly, the A rts and Crafts m ovem ent was first m arked in 1859 w ith the erection of W illiam M orris' m ansion dubbed “Red H ouse" because it ex posed brick— for decades hypocritically concealed under stucco— to show how the honest use of m aterials could offer “ a chance to create singularly beautifu l effects."
—free arrangem ent of volum es and spaces. R enouncing the ty ranny of horizontal and vertical alignm ents and repetition in the placem ent of w indow s and doors, architecture projects the interior spaces in tw o or th ree dim ensions, th a t is, on the building walls and volum es. The pioneers of the m odern m ovem ent u n d er stood th a t the “ p icturesque" and “ anecdotal" nature of the m edie val language im plied a p rofound com m itm ent to record events in their individual substance, no longer regim enting them in majestic sequences or a priori fu ll-and-em pty balances. Taking their cue from th is popular idiom , the Arts and C rafts m asters and their disciples, from Charles Robert A shbee to Charles F. A nnesley Voysey, w orked out a vocabulary w hich, w ith in a few years, com pletely supp lan ted every figurative rem nant of the same M iddle Ages.
—dialogue betw een structure and shell. C onstructions w here “ stone com ponents and walls form ed a single u n it" strongly ap-
100-1. The listing method in the medieval Piazza San Pellegrino of Viterbo (thir teenth century) and in "The Pastures" house at North Luffenham, designed by Charles F. Annesley Voysey in 1901. Voysey's work concluded the Arts and Crafts cycle initiated in 1859 with William Morris' Red House (cf. 44). The Morris reform opposed neoclassicism and its dogmas: symmetry, proportion, rhythm, full-and-empty balance, aligned doors and windows, and the monumental. It strove for a descriptive language of functions and natural materials which, elimi nating the Renaissance orders, or "set phrases," gave new semantic value to every architectural "word."
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pealed to the neo-Romanesque architects determined to cast off programmatic Gothic and neo-Gothic anatomical structuralism. Hendrik Petrus Berlage's Stock Exchange in Amsterdam echoes Sant'Ambrogio in Milan. O n the heavy Lombard walls, full of deep shadows, the struts and ribs of the crossings are visible but do not contrast with the brick texture. Similarly, in the N eth erlands, iron framings cover a luminous space enclosed by robust neo-Romanesque walls and connect with them by indented truss members that disappear into the masonry.
Exposing the structural frame was a medieval lesson that went beyond Arts and Crafts and the neo-Romanesque movement. Frank Lloyd W right, fervent medievalist, used this approach in his Hickox House (1900) in Kankakee, first step in his crusade to do away with the "box" and to conceive walls as mere screens in the continuum between inside and outside spaces. Ludwig Mies van der Rohe followed suit with obsessive m odularity in his Illi nois Institute of Technology (1940-56) in Chicago.
The Arts and Crafts leaders, from Morris to Voysey, and the neo-Romanesques, from Henry Hobson Richardson and John Wellborn Root to Berlage, fomented a trend, soon spread through out the world, to rid architecture of spurious classical precepts. Even in Italy, stronghold of academism, such men as Boito, Er nesto Basile, and Gaetano Moretti gave it their full support. Artists with creative imagination and indomitable courage abandoned the archaeological neomedievalism of the nineteenth-century ro mantics. They were truly modern poets who mirrored their anxie ties in the past. They built and studied, created and explored, impelled by a passion for the new that drove them to "excavate"
102-4. Romanesque and neo-Romanesque. Above: two views of the cross vaults in Sant'Ambrogio, Milan (second half of the eleventh century). Below: Hall of the Amsterdam Stock Exchange (1898), by Hendrik Petrus Berlage, whose cultural role in Europe paralleled that of Henry Hobson Richardson in the United States (cf. 42, 95, and 96). Following page: 105-6. Exposed timber framework in the Cloister Court of Queen's College, Cam bridge (1448), and exposed metal framework in the Alumni Memorial Hall of the Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago (1945), by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe.
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Medievalist Culture 135
buried erud ition and bring it back to life. T hey spoke in terms of today and reread the past w ith m odern eyes.
T heir perm anen t contribu tion to the contem porary language of arch itecture lies in functional listing as design m ethodology. T hey d id aw ay w ith bo th gram m ar and syntax, rules and dogma, to revive the sem antics of w ords th a t had lost their true m eaning in the conventional phrases coined by the "o rders," by the ir super im positions and juxtapositions, consonances and proportions. The list, or inven to ry of functions, constitu tes the basic invariable of the m odern language in architecture: unless he rejects the ta boos and the abstract, coercive precepts of classicism, no m an can be a m odern architect. Thus, the m edieval experience still offers tod ay the best instrum ent for shaping a cultured and, at the sam e tim e, popular language, for determ ining its m atrix and controlling its developm ent.
Preceding pages: 107. Aerial view of abbey of M ont-Saint-M ichel (1022-1135). Above: 108. The Eiffel Tower (1889), dominating the panorama of Paris. Following pages: 109-10. Structural prodigies. Left: vaults over the choir of the cathedral of Amiens (1220-47). Right: Galerie des Machines, by Victor Contam in and Charles-Louis- Ferdinand D utert, built for the Paris Exhibition of 1889. Its dimensions: length, 1,377 feet; w idth, 377 feet; height, 157 feet high.
IX
Gothic Historiography, Nineteenth-Century Engineering, A r t Nouveau, Garden Cities: Asymmetry and Dissonance; Cantilever, Shell, and Membrane Structures
The G othic revival, pioneered by the Frenchm an Eugene Viollet- le-D uc (1814- 79), preceded the neo-R om anesque. R ichardson re belled against the B eaux-A rts school's tendency to crystallize fou rteen th -cen tu ry form s in to a "s ty le ," and Berlage follow ed P. J. H. C uypers, w ho designed the R ijksm useum (1877), A m ster dam , in the G othic m anner. M oreover, the A rts and C rafts m ove m ent came long after the b irth of m odern engineering. W illiam M orris' Red H ouse was built in 1859 , w hile the first iron bridge, at C oalbrookdale, England, dates back to 1775 . N evertheless, as a param eter for a renew ed language, the G othic culture prevailed during the last decades of the n ineteen th century. This m ay be dem onstrated by com paring tw o celebrated strongholds of the new technique. T he C rystal Palace (1851) in London m arked a long forw ard stride in structural evolution, bu t its ornam ental tracery and Second Empire arabesques were w eak and ineffectual. Inversely, the Galerie des M achines (1889) at the Paris W orld Exhibition of 1889 em bodied V io lle t-le-D uc 's principles, bu t stripped them of every archaeological encum brance.
W hat features of the G othic culture attracted m odern artists? There are m any, som e of them contradictory, including:
— structural fram ew ork. Steel and reinforced concrete concen trated w eights and stresses in to isolated supports, thus elim inating the continuous substain ing wall. Im m ediate, inevitable historical an tecedents of this developm ent were the cathedrals of the lie de France, from N otre D am e to Am iens, w hich illustrate the progressive a trophy of walls. Vertical elem ents began to scan vol um es and spaces. Betw een them , im m ense, lum inous openw ork
139
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144 The Modern Language of Architecture
made it possible to pare dow n the traditionally heavy walls to th in screens. Innum erable m odern buildings, such as A lfred M es- sel's W ertheim D epartm ent Store in Berlin, follow the same approach.
— transparency. A t its apex, G othic architecture provoked a typical fascinating effect: the brilliant light stream ing through the air-borne dust inundated the building envelope and nullified the feeling of a boxlike mass. Thus, external and in ternal spaces seemed to merge together, and the fram ew ork looked m uch like a cage, w ith its sheer lines traced against the sky. Seeking to recapture this magical dream and struck by the infinite possibili ties offered by iron and glass, n ine teen th -cen tu ry engineers split the landscape in to soaring segm ents, alm ost m easuring the un lim ited space. Subsequently , A uguste Perret in troduced geometric fretw ork in the churches of Le Rainey and M ontm agny, and Lloyd W right, son of the Taliesin genius, built a crystal chapel (1951) at Palos Verdes, California.
—dynam ic lines. The com posite pilasters of the cathedrals and the sharply projecting cornices of the fo u rteen th -cen tu ry palaces were invested w ith a linear dynam ism , w hich A rt N ouveau re vived. Line is strength , said H enry van de Velde, w hose restless, w rithing designs were conceived in term s of Einfühlung, th a t is, in a physiopsychological function. This concept V ictor H orta had already grasped in his house on the Rue de T urin (1893), Brussels. S tripping aw ay the stone trappings w ith w hich the academics dressed their iron colum ns, he left them bare and ex tended their lines in vivid, ornam ental motives.
Preceding pages: 111-12. The structural skeleton. Left: rampant arches of the cathedral of Chartres (1194-1220). Right: refinery in Texas (1937). Facing page: 113-14. Transparency. Above: rose window of the transept in Notre Dame de Paris (1163-1220). Below: insets in reinforced concrete, designed by Auguste Perret, in Notre Dame at Le Rainey (1922). Following pages: 115-17. Transparency. Sainte-Chapelle in Paris (1246-48). Interior and side view of the chapel at Palos Verdes, California (1951), by Lloyd Wright, son of the Taliesin master.
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118-19. Dynamic lines. The nave of the Wells Cathedral (1192-1230) and the glass vault of the w inter garden in the house built by Victor Horta on Avenue Palmerston, Brussels (1895). At its outset, Art Nouveau reverted to the Gothic in order to free the new iron structures of classical constraints, and prolonged the optical thrust of columns and beams in wriggling ornamental inventions that animated the entire spatial form. Horta could make even a stone vibrate, as shown by the ventilating apertures in his studio at Saint-Gilles, Brussels (cf. 43), and in many details of the Maison du Peuple, his m asterwork (cf. 13).
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— shells and m em branes. In the fifteenth and six teenth cen tu ries, Gothic architecture subdued the dynam ic tension, preferring more com plex interlacing often unrelated to the structures th em selves. In England, we find the vaulted tex ture of the K ing's C ol lege Chapel in Cam bridge. The um brellalike tracery of the C an ter bury C athedral replaced the sprouting pilasters of Salisbury. An image free of dynam ic im pulses was produced in the vibrating, yet static, lines of the Bodleian Library in O xford . Such em ancipa tion from the technical data brought about tw o consequences. The first, m ore evident, was negative. D espite its m asterpieces, the late G othic was so obsessed w ith in tellectual refinem ents tha t it deteriorated m ore than once into the m erely decorative. The same fate befell A rt N ouveau centuries later w hen it abandoned H orta 's startling lines and van de V elde's functional precepts, only to w aste aw ay in to the excesses of floral art. This was the case of Joseph H offm ann. In 1905 this V iennese architect d iscov ered the secret of the th in , tortile colum ns at the corners of the Ducal Palace in Venice: they speed up the refractions of light and separate the volum etric surfaces, thus dissem bling their th ick ness. These properties H offm an adapted to the bronzed profiles of the Palais Stoclet in Brussels, thereby un iting the m ost disso nan t elem ents. But in the A ustrian Pavilion at the 1934 Venice Biennale, he m ade a ha lf-hearted effort to add tension to a sym m e trical volum e designed in the classical m anner, w ith quivering, corrugated sheathing. The second consequence of the late Gothic approach, how ever, is positive and significant for today 's archi tects: om itting the dynam ic lines, m em branes and shells re in te grated the building envelope. Similarly, the m ost advanced m od ern structures do not separate the supports from the in term ediate sectors, bu t ra ther involve every fiber of the organism in the
120-21. Linear virtuosity. Late Gothic devitalized the dynamic concept with a decorative style exemplified in the church of Santa Barbara at Kuttenberg ( 1512). Art Nouveau reached a similar stage, as shown by the railings for the Paris Metro, designed by Hector Guimard in 1900 . Following pages: 122- 23 . Membranes and linear shells in King's College Chapel, Cambridge (1446- 1515), and a geodesic cupola built by Buckminster Fuller for the American Pavilion at the Montreal Exhibition of 1967 . “Hippy" domes followed his example (cf. 223 and 224).
Above: 124. A weft of lines over the facade of the Bodleian Library in O xford (1613- 18). Facing page: 125-28. Left: the tortile column at the corner of the Palazzo Ducale in Venice (twelfth to fifteenth centuries). Right: two views of the bronzed seams that frame the facades of the Palais Stoclet, Brussels (1905—11), by Joseph Hoffmann, and divide them into bidimensional sectors. Below: H offm ann's A ustrian Pavilion at the Venice Biennale of 1934. The corrugated surface harks back to the Viennese Art Nouveau m aster's sensitivity, but the sym m etry of the building indicates his creative decline.
156 The Modern Language of Architecture
molded forms. W e see exam ples of this in Pier Luigi N ervi's cupolas.
— undulating surfaces. W henever the G othic spatial continuum could not m ake use of dynam ic lines and broad glass expanses, architects curved exterior walls to tem per severe, heavy stereom e tries. The tow n halls of Perugia and Siena w ere designed in this w ay to be sensitized to the light, and keep their crenellated sum m its in perm anent in teraction w ith the surrounding atm osphere. Art N ouveau, too, abhorred harsh geom etric surfaces: the entire facade of H orta 's M aison du Peuple in Brussels is concave. John Root used bow w indow s on the M onadnock Block in Chicago to relieve the otherw ise m onotonous rigidity of th a t giant pile in a play of interruptions.
— the vertical. H eight is the sym bol of m ystic and hum an pres tige. The industrialists of the n ineteen th cen tury sought to com pensate for the religious crisis w ith the cult of m oney and free enterprise. The tow er of Bruges, the Strasbourg C athedral, and M ont-Sain t-M ichel, designed to em phasize and exalt the church spire rising high above the tow n, exem plify the transcendency of m edieval verticalism . Am ong the corresponding m odern struc tures, we can cite A lessandro A ntonelli's w orks in T urin and Novara; G ustave Eiffel's fam ous Tow er (1889) in Paris, w hich dom inates the city; and A m erica's soaring skyscrapers, varying in type from the neo-G othic, such as the W oolw orth Building in New York, to the rationalist m asterpiece by George H owe and W illiam Lescaze, the Philadelphia Savings Fund Society Building. Frank Lloyd W right, w ho declared th a t his w ork was “ conceived in the G othic spirit" w hen he in troduced it to Europe in 1910, designed Broadacre City, a horizontal hab ita t, bu t also “The Illinois," a m ile-high skyscraper.
129-31. Undulating surfaces. The Palazzo Comunale in Perugia (thirteenth to fourteenth centuries), by Giacomo di Servadio and Giovarinello di Benvenuto. Monadnock Building in Chicago (1891), by John Root and Daniel Burnham. The concave front of the Maison du Peuple in Brussels (1896-99), by Victor Horta. Following pages: 132-33. The vertical. Tower of the Bruges Town Hall (end of the thirteenth century) and “The Illinois/' mile-high skyscraper designed for Chicago by Frank Lloyd Wright in 1956. See also 107 for Mont-Saint-Michel, and 108 for the Eiffel Tower.
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160 The Modern Language of Architecture
—asym m etry and dissonance. The striking dissim ilarities b e tw een the tw o tow ers of the C hartres C athedral; the "early Eng lish," "decorated ," and "perpendicu lar" chapels audacicusly m atched in G reat B ritain 's churches; and the notorious imbalance of Arnolfo di C am bio 's Palazzo Vecchio tow er in Florence shewed a strong attraction for asym m etry and dissonance, cardinal invari ables of the m odern language of architecture. Indeed, the Gothic form ulated a m ethodology of dissonance w hen, superseding the one-dim ensional schem e of the C hristian basilica, it exacerbated the contrast betw een the longitudinal distance to the altar and the visual distance to the cross vaults at vertiginous heights over head. M oreover, abbeys and m onasteries, especially in England, were seldom com pleted. T hey constantly grew and added new quarters, bu t no effort was m ade to endow them all w ith a uniform style. Indeed, their differences were often accentuated to a surreal istic degree.
The influence of m edieval tow n planning on m odern planning goes beyond a visual and symbolic com parison. In 1889, Camillo Sitte published Der Städtebau nach seinen Künstlerischen Grundsätzen, a sort of glorification of urban art in the M iddle Ages. N ine years later, Ebenezer H ow ard, em balm ing the n in e teen th -cen tu ry u to pias of R obert O w en and Charles Fourier, w rote Tomorrow: A Peace ful Path to Real Reform, w hich became the gospel of the new tow n planning m ovem ent. The notion of the G arden C ity found im m e diate historical reference to those centuries "w h en cathedrals were w hite" and the netw ork of European settlem ents was planned w ith reckless fantasy and courage.
H ow ard deplored the hypertrophic expansion of m etropolitan areas, calling instead for satellite com m unities of abou t th irty
134-35. Asymmetry and dissonance. Spires of unequal height (377 and 347 feet) of the cathedral of Chartres (1194-1220). Dissonant volumes in Rockefeller Center, New York (1931-39), by Hood & Fouilhoux, Reinhard & Hofmeister, Corbett, Harrison & MacMurray. Following pages: 136-37. Gothic and modern dissonance. A twisted column in the church of Saint- Severin, Paris (fifteenth century), and model of the Palace of the Third Interna tional in Moscow, designed by Vladimir Tatlin in 1920. The helicoidal form of this building signaled a rupture with the static box of the classicist idiom.
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thousand inhab itan ts, econom ically and functionally au tono mous. A t the same tim e, Sitte praised the m edieval nuclei for their lim ited size, their asym m etrical squares and streets, and their dissonant m onum ents. Sociology, artistic creativity, and architec tural h istory com bined to shape the idea of L etchw orth and W elw yn G arden Cities, the w orkers' com m unities designed by Bruno T aut and Ernst M ay, Sabaudia near Rome, the American "greenbelts," and finally the N ew T ow ns in G reat Britain and Scandinavia— in short, everything positive th a t was realized in tow n planning until the advent of an alternative hypothesis: the city-region.
138—40. The community dimension. Above: New Lanark, near Glasgow, one of Britain's first workers' centers, built by Robert Owen in 1802. Right: aerial views of Lucignano, a medieval Tuscan agglomerate, and Bram, near Carcassonne. Following pages: 141-42. Left: aerial view of Perugia (cf. 94). Right: aerial view of Welwyn Garden City, second such community realized, through the initiative of Ebenezer Howard, by Louis de Soissons and Arthur Kenyon (1919). The British and Scandinavian satellite towns are an outgrowth of the Garden City concept, formulated by How ard at the end of the last century.
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Preceding pages: 143. The Renaissance decomposing method of design (nave, vaults, ring, cupola, lantern) in the church of Santa Maria delle Carceri in Prato (1485), by Giuliano da Sangallo. Above: 144. Neoplastic decomposing in a chair by Gerrit Rietveld, exponent of the De Stijl Group (1922). Following pages: 145-46. Renaissance proportions in a drawing by Leonardo da Vinci, and the Modulor worked out by Le Corbusier in 1947.
X
Renaissance and Rationalism: Antiperspective Three- Dimensionality, Syntax of Four-dimensional Decomposition
A close scrutiny of past records will confirm beyond all doubt that historical commitment and architectural creativity are inter dependent. No link seems to bind the Renaissance revival, fos tered, among others, by Jacob Burckhardt in his Die Kultur der Renaissance in Italien (1880), with the modern rationalism of the 1920s and 1930s. The last vestiges of a Renaissance indoctrination can be found in the works of the Austrian O tto Wagner, although he repudiated it in his Moderne Architektur (1895), in the output of Karl Friedrich Schinkel's followers, and, to a very limited ex tent, in Tony Garnier's project for "Une cite industrielle /' dated 1901-4 .
Nevertheless, anyone who maintains that modern rationalism preserves classicist elements—Beaux-Arts in reverse—because of its muddle-headed aim to devise a universally applicable code founded on rigid standards puts his finger on a basic question. The commerce between past culture and contemporary architec ture is a dynamic one. It is effective even when hidden behind a screen of dialectic contradictions. Let us consider the generic analogies that link tw entieth-century rationalism to the Renais sance:
—a drastic reduction of linguistic instruments. From the formal anthology of the Middle Ages, Brunelleschi selected only a very few elements. He would have nothing to do w ith marble inlays, chromatic hedonism, volumetric elasticity, fussy walls, pointed arches, composite pilasters, structural ostentation, or Gothic asymmetry and dissonance. Omitting every chance intrusion, he distilled a lean vocabulary stripped of all such adjectives. In the
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post-W orld W ar I years, Le Corbusier, Gropius, Mies van der Rohe, and J. J. P. O ud did the same; in a parallel move, stoutly professing to be artists with no need for such expedients, they made a clean sweep of romantic Eclecticism, Art Nouveau, and the protorationalism that prevailed between 1900 and 1914 . Just as Brunelleschi had turned his back on the Gothic line, they re fused floral decoration. They were inflexibly simple, and their luminous volumes stood out in the architectural scene for the deliberate paucity of the means employed.
—scientific ideology and intellectual control. The discovery of perspective underlay Renaissance poetics in the same way that the Cubists' discovery of the fourth dimension provided the basis for modern rationalism. The m yth of perfect proportion, the appli cation of the golden section, the longing to hit on some method of design that would be valid for any theme whatever, as well as a didactic m entality united the architectural cycle of the tw en ties and thirties to the Renaissance. In both cases, poetry was oriented toward mathematics.
—elementary geometry and stereometry. The plan of Le Corbu sier's Villa Savoye is a square, as are the bays of Brunelleschi's portico of the Ospedale degli Innocenti in Florence. O ud 's work ers' housing in Rotterdam has circular street corners, and the centric system was the Renaissance humanistic ideal. "Pure" shapes exposed to the light, and therefore immediately legible, replace the incommensurable values and elaborate patterns of the preceding periods. Santa Maria della Consolazione in Todi is a rippling image of spheres and cylinders, isolated from nature. Le Corbusier's prisms, resting on pilotis, widen the breach.
147-48. Elementary geometry. Circles, cylinders, and spheres in Rotterdam's low- cost housing project, by J. J. P. Oud (1924), and in the church of Santa Maria della Consolazione in Todi, by Cola di Matteuccio di Caprarola (1508-12). Following pages: 149-51. Proportional relationships in the Palazzo Bartolini, Florence, by Baccio d'Agnolo (beginning of the sixteenth century) and in two works by Le Corbusier: Ozenfant's studio house in Paris (1922) and Maison La Roche in Auteuil, designed in 1923 (cf. 39). The search for the “golden section" was common to both the Renaissance and the rationalist movement between the two world wars.
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These analogies stem from a similar process of dismembering spatial organisms, volumes, planes, and surfaces. Brunelleschi be gan to decompose with his very first work, the portico of the Innocenti. Did the plan call for a rectangle? He split it up into a series of squares. W hat about the elevation? He chose a module, an arch over a square, and repeated it along the length of the fagade. He was called upon to design a stone facade for the Palazzo Pitti, a theme w ith a glorious Unitarian tradition in medieval archi tecture, brightened by a variety of apertures and dynamic lines. But he disintegrated the whole by selecting a window module and repeating it seven times horizontally, then following the same method vertically and decomposing the height into three equal parts. W hat was called the Renaissance “superimposition of the orders" arose from this syntax of decomposition, applied in two or three dimensions. Examples: the courtyard of the Cancelleria in Rome and the interior of Santa Maria delle Carceri in Prato. Even the voids are disassembled into separate entities—the main nave, secondary naves, transept, pendentives, drum, cupola, lan tern, and summit—then juxtaposed or superposed, but nowhere fused together.
From this architectural code came the need for proportion. No law must govern the elements of medieval buildings; the func tional listing possessed inner corrective capacities w ithin a narra tive approach. Renaissance decomposition, on the other hand, demanded a whole series of rules. How often could the hollow module of the Innocenti be repeated? Should the Palazzo Pitti have seven windows or ten? Could the spans of San Lorenzo in Florence be undefined or must they conform to a stern m athem ati cal edict? How would the Palazzo Bartolini in Florence have
152-53. Modular composition in the seven central windows of the Palazzo Pitti in Florence, by Filippo Brunelleschi (1440), and in the Berlin-Dahlem housing project designed by Wassili and Hans Luckhardt and Alfons Anker during the rationalist period (1928). Classicism, ancient and modem, proceeds by modules and repeats them systematically, contravening the invariable of functional listing which constitutes the basis of a democratic language. Windows and living cells are uniformly repeated, obeying the academic canons. Architectural "words" lose their specific semantics in deference to the "orders."
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turned out had its com position been altered even slightly? O th e r wise stated, if you decom pose the w hole in to m odules, how do you close the sequence of the m odules, how do you m ake it clear tha t a build ing ends at such-and-such a point, no t before and not beyond? It is here tha t proportion played its role and, w ith it, the eurhythm ies, the golden num ber, the pseudoscientific baggage of consonance, and the expediency of balustrades, friezes, cymae, cornucopias, lacunars, cornices, tiles, trusses, and es cutcheons, w hich strengthen or w eaken the visual w eight of the elem ents bearing on the proportional rhy thm s.
Translating the same process in to dynam ic term s, let us look at the architecture of the 1920s and 1930s. Expressionism did not decom pose bu t gave to its th ree-dim ensional masses an explo sive kinetic tension, th a t is, antiperspective and contrary to the Renaissance procedure. A rchitectural trends influenced by C u b ism, how ever, preferred to decom pose the building box in to d isso nant volum es. N eoplasticism , the De Stijl m ovem ent led by Theo van D oesburg, expounded the four-dim ensional syntax by d is m em bering the volum e in to free slabs, then reassem bling them , but in such a w ay as to avoid the static perspective vision. De Stijl hailed the fou rth dim ension— tim e— as the crow ning glory of architectural enjoym ent. Poet laureate of this tendency was M ies van der Rohe, w ho elim inated every closed b inding of spaces and used a single instrum ent— the isolated slab— for walls, ceil ings, reflector pools, m arble sheets, or glass to m ark out spatial fluidity. A nother significant artist was R obert M aillart, a m odest Swiss engineer w ho was unaw are of his exceptional stature. D is missing structural exhibitionism , he designed his fam ous bridges in simple slabs of reinforced concrete. M ore sophisticated, Gerrit
154-56. Renaissance perspective and Expressionist antiperspective three-dimen sionality. Piazza della Santissima Annunziata in Florence (cf. 169), with the church flanked by Brunelleschi's portico and by a sixteenth-century copy of it in the foreground. Two sketches for the Alexanderplatz in Berlin, by the Luckhardt brothers, who used the Expressionist innovations introduced during the early post-World War I period (1929). For centuries, central perspective suppressed the three-dimensionality of the urban fabric. The Expressionists vindicated it in an anti-Renaissance key, while De Stijl aimed for four-dimensional decomposition.
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Rietveld adopted decomposition even in his chairs, breaking up traditional forms into small elements, then combining them, but openly exposing the procedure of their assemblage.
The rationalist taste for pure volumes parallels the Renaissance need for decomposing the urban continuum typical of the Middle Ages: no more streets like canals flanked by rows of houses, no more squares like so many cubes of air marked off by classical buildings, like so many stage sets. The "free plan," throwing off the ball and chain of perspective, is the dominating principle of the modern vision. It is valuable to city spaces as well as to interiors.
The fourth dimension, therefore, takes a m ilitant stand against the three-dimensional inflexibility of classicism, replacing the static (one fixed viewpoint giving one fixed perspective image) with movement (infinite viewpoints with as many images). But the Renaissance and modern rationalism share a theoretical and analytical anguish so closely that the old and new romantics de nounce the intellectual furbelows of both, their pseudological nightmares and the icy, catechistic limits of their imagination. The romantics fail to see the magic of the num ber and the intoxi cating mystique in the dream of golden mean or of four-dim en sional dissonance.
157-60. The Renaissance three-dimensional and the modem four-dimensional. Upper left: the module of the Ospedale degli Innocenti in Florence (cf. 154), by Brunelleschi (1419). Upper right and center: two views of the German Pavilion at the Barcelona Exhibition of 1929, by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe. Below: bridge over the Tschiel-Bach Valley in Switzerland, by Robert Maillart (1925).
Preceding pages: 161. Fresco by Giulio Romano in the Room of Giants of the Palazzo del Te in M antua (1525-34), a M annerist work dramatically depicting the collapse of the classical orders. Above: 162. Library of the Faculty of History at Oxford, by James Stirling (1968). The glass roof appears to bear down on the balconies below. Following pages: 163-66. Michelangelo's Laurentian Library in Florence (1524-68) and the Mila House in Barcelona, by Antoni Gaudi (1905-10).
X i
Mannerism and Baroque, Organic Architecture: Space in Time; Reintegration of Building, City, and Landscape
T hrough the m ediation of M annerism , w hich broke dow n R enais sance classical ideologies by d ism antling their structure of p ropor tions and relationships, the transition to the B aroque brought rein tegration w ith it. An analogous role was played by the organic m ovem ent, bo th in the direction taken by Frank Lloyd W right after the rationalism of the Chicago School of 1880-93, and in the European developm ent centering on Alvar Aalto, Scandina vian N eo-Em piricism , and the N eo-Expressionist currents in the post-W orld W ar II period. M annerism and Baroque intersected in the six teen th and seventeenth centuries; likewise, in m odern times, Brutalism , a M anneristic phenom enon, follow ed the or ganic. Le C orbusier's w ork em bodied all three phases. Standard bearer of rationalism in the 1920s and 1930s, he abandoned it w hen he designed the Roncham p chapel w ith strong Baroque overtones. In the La T ourette m onastery near Lyons, how ever, and in his constructions in C handigarh, he consolidated "m anner."
In the ou tcry against the canons of classicism, the voice of M ichelangelo resounded above all others. The stairw ay in the Laurentian Library, Florence, bursts upw ard through the hall w ith explosive force. Im m ense tw in colum ns, em bedded in the walls and seem ingly struggling to free them selves, apostrophize the w hite surface, m arked by regularly spaced s ix teen th -cen tu ry m odules. A nd the cascading steps contrast strik ingly w ith the insipid void, in an expressionist com plaint against the aseptic balance of spaces.
In the palaces of the C am pidoglio in Rome, M ichelangelo rein tegrated volum e, em phasizing its to tal height w ith gigantic
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pillars. Called upon to complete the Palazzo Farnese, he brushed aside the cautious design by Sangallo and added a colossal cornice, fully disproportionate because it relates not w ith the third order but with the entire facade (the apparently similar impressive cor nice of the Early Renaissance Palazzo Strozzi in Florence floats on a smooth separating strip, in harmony w ith the tripartition of the ashlar box below). Furthermore, Michelangelo defied the Renaissance code with his sweeping designs for the fortifications of Florence. As with the Capitoline complex, he replaced symme try—and a lack of tension—with a compressed trapezoidal void and gave dynamic force to the piazza by inverting the perspective alignment. In the apse of St. Peter's and at the Porta Pia, he went not only beyond Mannerism but beyond Baroque as well.
Carrying forward a parallel function, modern Expressionism stirred up a dramatic controversy against the principle of decom position and in favor of reintegration. Its foremost exponents were Antoni Gaudi in Spain and Erich M endelsohn in Germany. Numerous works, such as Rudolf Steiner's Goetheanum in Dör nach, near Basel, bear eloquent witness to the exuberance of its flowing, plastic forms. In Barcelona, the contorted facade of Gau- di's Mila House introduced asymmetries never seen before; its phantasmagoric, modeled contours confound the sky with a series of gesticulating totems, and its interior spaces seem like hollowed- out lumps of clay. The Einstein Observatory in Potsdam, bristling with protuberances and undulations, bursts out of the earth like a volcano in eruption. In a spectral scenography, O tto Bartning reunified the exotic, forestlike elements of a sanctuary, weakening them by using pendulous shapes.
167-73. The antidecomposing controversy provoked by Michelangelo and again, centuries later, by the Expressionists. Palazzo Farnese in Rome (1546) with its immense cornice which unifies the superimposed orders. The trapezoidal layout of the Piazza del Campidoglio, Rome, compared with the perspective plan of the Piazza della Santissima Annunziata in Florence (cf. 154). Sketch by Michelan gelo for the Florence fortifications of 1529 (cf. 26-28). Below: Einstein Tower in Potsdam, by Erich Mendelsohn (1920), and project for a church by Otto Bartning (1921), two examples of Expressionism that reintegrate the elements decomposed through the analytical methodology of rationalism.
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Introducing pow erful dynam ics in perspective vision and tem porizing the th ree-dim ensional, this revolutionary m ovem ent ruled out as superfluous bo th the fourth dim ension and the de com posing m ethod of tw o-dim ensional planes and slabs. But a process of rein tegration also affected the language deriving from Cubism. In the pavilions of the Stockholm Exhibition of 1930, Erik G unnar A splund w aived the laws of prism atic rigidity and the strictures of the T-square in favor of sinuous fluidity and curves, w hich prom oted a continuing in teraction betw een vol umes.
Let us now analyze the church of the Gesü in Rome. Here the m ethod of decom posing, in the syntactical sense, still survives. The w hole is dism em bered into the principal nave, rows of chap els, presbytery, transept, cupola, and apse. If, how ever, we com pare it w ith a fifteen th -cen tu ry m odel— even w ith its exceptional predecessor, Sant'A ndrea in M antua— we shall understand the crisis tha t beleaguered Renaissance conceptions. The atrophy of the G esü's m inor naves, replaced by chapels, and the encapsula tion of the transep t in to a cubic volum e give full pre-em inence to the central space, w hich dom inates the in terior as the cynosure of the total image. The passage from harm onic and equivalent m odules to a hierarchic vision brought w ith it— as H einrich Wölfflin am ply dem onstrated in his Renaissance und Barok (1888)— a reunification of the fragm ents from the preceding culture, their reintegration. A m inor Renaissance nave form s an autonom ous perspective image. In Sant'A ndrea, too, we find a spatial articu la tion, w hereas the Gesü chapels are entirely secondary to the single majestic nave. Let us com pare the cupola of th is Rom an church w ith Santa M aria delle Carceri in Prato, to take an example. Here
174- 76 . Above: Erik Gunnar A splund's pavilions at the Stockholm Exhibition of 1930, a criticism of the rationalist decomposition of volumes. Center: plans of San Lorenzo in Florence, by Brunelleschi (1423); Sant'Andrea in M antua, by Leon Battista Alberti (1470); and the church of the Gesü in Rome, by Jacopo Barozzi da Vignola (1568). Below: cupola of the Gesü by Vignola and Giacomo Della Porta (1568- 73). By reducing the lateral naves to chapels, the Gesü opposes the tradi tional tripartitioning of the Christian church and introduces the question of reinte gration, subsequently resolved in the Baroque period.
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we find the same decomposing process, in the mechanical sense: archivolts that define the barrel vaults of the nave and transept, and a drum resting on a ring. Yet, the differences are striking. The Baroque decoration blends the elements together, while in Prato the vaults, lunettes, and shining segments accentuate the separation. The ring in Prato is markedly detached from the side cornices, while the one in Gesü tends to become fused. More important, in Rome the diameter of the enormous cupola matches the width of the nave. Overwhelming in its magnitude, it is antag onistic to the eurhythm ic laws of the Renaissance since it ignores consonances and proportion.
As Vignola did in the Gesü, so Aalto boycotted decomposition in his library at Viipuri. A wooden ceiling undulates over the rectangular assembly room and extends down to the floor, cover ing its backdrop wall. Instead of dismembering the box into six slabs, Aalto achieved a unity of ceiling and wall. His approach is manneristic, it confutes rationalism from within through an organic device that would subsequently influence space concepts.
To return to the Baroque: an aversion to the static was the natural consequence of a determination to reintegrate. The ellipti cal plan, which even such a hesitant artist as Bernini used repeat edly, dissociates space into two focuses, giving each element a double reference. Since the eye is spontaneously drawn from one focus to the other, the vision becomes kinetic. In Santa Maria in Campitelli, Rome, Carlo Rainaldi took a more audacious risk by arranging two contiguous spaces along a longitudinal axis. Not content w ith this duality, he fused the two spaces together through a play of plasticism, intensified at the point where they join. This expedient, however, still failed to satisfy him. Therefore, since the far chamber provides a sort of proscenium for the first
177- 81 . Above: Conference room in the Viipuri Library, by Alvar Aalto (1930- 35), with its undulating "Mannerist" wood ceiling, which descends to cover the wall behind the speaker's area. Center: Cupola and ellipsoidal plan of Sant'Andrea al Quirinale, Rome, by Gian Lorenzo Bernini (1658). Below: view and plan of Santa Maria in Campitelli, Rome, by Carlo Rainaldi (1657), with its two chambers juxtaposed longitudinally. Here reintegration is achieved through the contrast between a large dark chamber and an adjoining one brilliantly illuminated from the cupola.
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and does no t draw the visitor to it, Rainaldi gave the tw o spaces unequal light values: the first cham ber is dark, w hile the second is filled w ith dazzling lum inosity. Thus he com plem ented a d i m ensional dissonance w ith a dissonance of light.
Similarly, Le C orbusier studded the wall of the Roncham p chapel w ith holes of different sizes and shapes to achieve a b ril liant, arcane lighting effect.
The in terpenetration of spatial figures culm inated w ith Bor rom ini and provided a stim ulus for structural continuity . This was his unequivocal choice, beginning w ith the church of San Carlino alle Q u a ttro Fontane. The space he had to w ork w ith was extrem ely narrow , and this w ould ordinarily call for a rec tan gular plan. Such a plan, how ever, was no t acceptable, because it im plied decom posing in to the facade wall, the side walls, and the far wall. A circle? This w ould have resulted in static un ifo rm ity. An oval? Too simple. It w ould have defied classicism w ithou t disposing of it. B orrom ini's solution was highly complex: tw o pairs of ellipses, partially overlapping to form a configuration w hich shapes a to rtuous m ural band. O ne cannot grasp the w hole from any single view ing point, as a constan t m ovem ent is infused in this m inim al, yet unconfined, space.
The genetics of Sant'A gnese in the Piazza N avona, Rome, can be traced in three stages:
—act one: the p re-ex isten t church, an ineffective, alm ost longi tudinal scheme;
— act two: the initial plan, recalling M ichelangelo 's idea for St. Peter's. A cupola dom inates and com presses the structure b e low it, w ith an explosive proportional dissonance over a R enais sance double sym m etry;
182. Dissonance of light marking the two chambers of Santa Maria in Campitelli, Rome, by Carlo Rainaldi (cf. 180 and 181). A t the right, the first dark chamber, entered from the piazza; at the left, the small chamber inundated with light polarized on the altar. 183. Wall studded with light-admitting apertures in Le Corbusier's Chapelle de Notre-Dame du Haut at Ronchamp (1950-51). For other views of this chapel, see 79 and 80. The quantitative and qualitative diversification of light reintegrates the architectural space and temporizes the spectator's vision of it. This diversifica tion was used in the Baroque and in the postrationalist periods.
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—act three: the final plan, both dilated and contracted, uncon- tainable w ith in a perspective image, an im m ense broken profile tha t tem porizes the space. Let us exam ine the relationship betw een church and cupola. As we enter the building, the w idest vertical visual angle includes the cornice below the drum . M easuring Bor rom ini's section, we see th a t it is barely halfw ay up the asto n ish ing height. This incredible "d isp roportion" does no t allow us to view the w hole from any one position. W e m ust m ove about and take tim e to grasp its dram atic message. The Baroque brings the object closer to the observer so tha t he will not m istake it as som ething detached, som ething only to contem plate. The in te rior of Sant'A gnese draw s him into its vortex; to appreciate it, he m ust "live" it actively.
Leaping over the centuries to m odern architecture, we have seen how A sp lund 's "M annerism " provoked the crisis of vo lu metric decom position, and A alto 's postu lated a rein tegration in the rationalist prism in V iipuri. The Finnish Pavilion at the New York W orld 's Fair of 1939 corresponded to Sant'A gnese. Instead of dividing its quadrangular volum e into slabs, A alto com pressed the space w ith a cyclopic corrugated wall, in a gesture rem iniscent of M ichelangelo. He suppressed every horizontal perspective im age, then divided the height into four sections. The low er one is bottom less, w hile the o ther three above it im pend on the ob server, catching him in rough, turgid, overflow ing form s th a t re place the d iaphanous surfaces and the precise contours of fou r dim ensional rationalism .
The saga of cupolas reached its conclusion w ith the prodigious church of Sant'Ivo alia Sapienza, in Rome. It gave the coup de grace to the Renaissance and M anneristic decom position m ethod,
184-86. Plan of Sant'Agnese in the Piazza Navona, Rome, before the church was transformed; Borromini's initial project; and its final form (1653-57). 187. Plan of the Finnish Pavilion at the New York World's Fair of 1939, by Alvar Aalto: a diagonal, undulating composition. Following pages: 188-92. Interior view and cross section of Sant'Agnese in the Piazza Navona, and plan of the Palazzo della Sapienza, with the church of Sant'Ivo, by Borromini. Below: the Finnish Pavilion in New York (1939) and elements in wood, by Alvar Aalto.
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tha t is, to the additive process: church + pendentives -+- cupola + lantern. W here is the cupola in Sant'Ivo? It no longer exists. Its springline is one w ith the cornice of the cham ber below; th e re fore the cupola heightens the building, yet sinks its roots into it. It represents a to tal reintegration, as in the Pantheon, b u t an anticlassic rein tegration w hich sunders regular space. Indeed, Sant'Ivo 's geom etric m atrix is unrecognizable. The hexagon of the floor has no spatial effect because its sides are m olded in concave and convex shapes. C entrifugal forces no t only alternate w ith centripetal im pulses, bu t they are h indered in their th rust tow ard the outside. The triangles, in the form of the Star of D avid, do not altogether fit in to the plan, yet they indicate a hypothetical geom etry w hich, passing th rough the envelope of the church, finds its com pletion only outside the envelope. B orrom ini's genius m ade this miracle possible by im buing a central organism w ith thrilling dynam ism .
Every aspect of the Baroque language answ ers the same p u r pose. Consider, for exam ple, the question of vertical com m unica tion. D uring the Renaissance, the stairw ay, a separate product of decom position, was encaged in a recess because its continu ity in height was considered incom patible w ith the superim position of the orders. Even in the full tide of the six teenth century, the stairw ay in the Palazzo della Sapienza was relegated to one of the m any rectangles th a t divide the structure; it is therefore w holly h idden from the courtyard , and it leaves no m ark on the facade. This system came to an end w ith the helicoid of the Palazzo Farnese in Caprarola, anticipated by the spiral stairw ay of the Vatican Belvedere, just as Sant'A ndrea prophesied the Gesü. W ith the advent of the Baroque, the six teen th -cen tu ry box opened up. In the loggia of Palazzo Barberini, external space sw ept into the m ain entrance, w ith its vast pincers ramps. It was the first
193- 95 . Above, left: elements in undulating wood, by Alvar Aalto. Above, right: cross section of Sant'Ivo alia Sapienza, Rome ( 1642- 6 0 ), where Borromini reinte grated the church and its cupola, defying Renaissance decomposing methodology Below: view of the cupola of Sant'Ivo. The base of the cupola coincides with the trabeation of the church, contrary to Renaissance and Mannerist practice—as, for example, in Santa Maria della Carceri, Prato (cf. 143); the Gesü, Rome (cf. 176); and Borromini's Sant'Agnese in the Piazza Navona, Rome (cf. 188 and 189 ).
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of the grandiose stairw ays w hich— from the Palazzo M adam a in T urin to V anvitelli's Reggia in Caserta— dem onstra ted the vertical rein tegration against the broken-up system of the classical orders.
H aving seen the architectural com ponents reunified, we pass on to the rein tegration of the city and its buildings. B ath, England, projected B orrom ini's undulating wall on the u rban scale. The Baroque serpentine fused cavities, bends, and retreats in endless blocks, un ify ing the different parts th rough the agency of light. If one curving section gets the light, the second rem ains in shadow , the third dazzles, and the fourth stands in the half-ligh t. There are no longer sharp caesuras betw een dark and light bu t rather a gradual, hom ogeneous transition.
The serpentine idea returned to the arch itectural scene as a feature of the dorm itories designed by A alto for the M assachusetts Institu te of T echnology. Instead of being confined w ith in an in ter nal vertical tube, the stairs cut across the entire ou tside wall facing the cam pus and reunify the superposed floors as they rise. Thus, Aalto created a stairw ay-corridor tha t supp lan ted the habitual decom posing m ovem ent in horizontal (corridors) and vertical (stairw ay) traffic.
The Piazza di Spagna in Rome dispenses w ith every connotation of the Renaissance idiom. It repudiates the sym m etrical void that stam ps the Piazza dell'A nnunziata in Florence and even the Cam - pidoglio in Rome, bordered by identical buildings, w ith a church or m onum ent in front and vistas encom passing the w hole scene. Separated into tw o in terpenetrating triangles, the Piazza di Spagna blends rhy thm ically from one into the o ther. The narrow part in the m iddle opens up into the Spanish steps, w hich ascend to T rinitä dei M onti, or canalizes into the opposite shaded split of
196-99. Altitudinal reintegration in Baroque and organic architecture. Above: small stairway in the fifteenth-century Horne House, Florence, attributed to Simone del Pollaiolo, and spiral stairway in the Palazzo Farnese at Caprarola, by Jacopo Barozzi da Vignola (1547-59). Center: grand stairway in the Reggia at Caserta, by Luigi Vanvitelli (1752-74). Below: stairway-corridors in Aalto's dormitories at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Cambridge (1947-48). Following pages: 200-2. Serpentine volumes. Aalto's MIT dormitories, Cambridge, Massachusetts (1947-48); Landsdown Crescent, Bath (1794); Paper Mill at Fors, by Ralph Erskine (1953).
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208 The Modern Language of Architecture
Via C ondotti. A n extraordinary, antiperspective inven tion , this piazza is no t a form ally isolated com ponent of the city, bu t rather a m agnet for converging and dispersing traffic in various directions.
The Piazza del Q uirinale effaces every geom etric pa tte rn and rigid stereom etry of em pty urban space. There is no correlation betw een its flanks, therefore no sym m etry. A void w ith o u t any strict design, it is the term inus of the long, straight Via XX Set- tem bre (once Strada Pia, outlined by M ichelangelo), and the s ta rt ing point of the descent to the Piazza Venezia and the Corso. Following the direction of the palace's fagade, in the distance we can see St. Peter's loom up over the panoram a. T he su rro u n d ing buildings abide by no right-angle rules; therefore the ir fagades give off infinite tonalities and nuances of light. A t any hour of the day, the Piazza del Q uirinale assim ilates and conveys the to tal range of light.
N othing can be reintegrated before it has been decom posed. The Baroque urban continuum detached fagades from the bu ild ings in such a w ay th a t they became mere street backdrops. Tw o exam ples of this, am ong m any, are the fronts of Sant'A gnese, Piazza N avona, w here Borromini curved the wall expanse, and the basilica of Santa M aria M aggiore, w ith its broad, palp itating arches em phasized by the side strips. The San Carlino fagade negates the corner of the Q uattro Fontane in order to em phasize the street axis. T he convexities of Sant'Ivo 's drum are in disso nance w ith the concave lower part of the church, w hich is con nected w ith the six teen th -cen tu ry portico. To achieve rein tegra tion, the com pact Renaissance volum e was attacked by the double assault of internal spaces and urban continuum .
O rganic architecture relates to the rationalism of the 1920s and 1930s just as did the Baroque to the Renaissance. It was the same
203 - 8 . Above: aerial view and plan of the Piazza di Spagna, Rome, formed by two triangles joining at their apexes. Center: aerial view and a 1676 drawing of the Piazza del Quirinale, Rome, conforming to the directions of the urban traffic flow, hence free of geometric preconceptions and parallel alignments. Below: two details of Boston's City Hall Plaza, by Paul Rudolph, a project influenced in part by medieval urban centers and, to a great extent, by the dynamic schemes and kinetic values of the Baroque cities (1963 - 7 1 ).
210 The Modern Language of Architecture
linguistic phenom enon, bu t w ith a notable difference: the Baroque reintegrated the three Renaissance dim ensions, w hile the organic reintegrates the four dim ensions of Cubism . The Baroque was concerned w ith undu lating walls and street backdrops; organic architecture w ith spaces and volum es of the city-region.
From the beginning of our century, Frank Lloyd W righ t—p ro f iting from a rationalist experience tha t m atured in the U nited States th irty years ahead of Europe— becam e the prophet and genius of the organic trend. He extolled the horizontal, the ground line, unfin ished m aterials som etim es crude and telluric, and the house anchored in the soil as a factor of a rein tegrated landscape. From the language of his m aster, Louis H. Sullivan, he rem oved every classical residue, such as isolated volum es, w axed surfaces, sharp contours, crystal purity , and abstract geometries. In the Roberts H ouse (1908) in River Forest, Illinois, W right built a living room tw o stories high. Forty years later, for the G uggenheim M useum in N ew York, he designed a grand helicoidal ram p to serve as bo th a stairw ay-corridor and a street-structure.
Com pared w ith p resen t-day architecture, including the m ost daring w orks, the high spots of organic poetics—W righ t's Falling W ater (1936) in Bear Run, Pennsylvania; the Johnson Building in Racine, W isconsin; and Taliesin W est, A rizona— belong to the future. T hey incorporate all the invariables of the m odern code: listing, dissonances, antiperspective th ree-d im ensionality that discounts C ubist doctrines; four-dim ensional decom position, w ith W right as the father of De Stijl neoplasticism ; cantilevered struc tures, w ith Falling W ater as their suprem e exam ple; space-in time; and rein tegration of building, city, and landscape. Fifty years before anyone else, W right foresaw that the autom obile w ould destroy the traditional an tinom y betw een urban nuclei and the
209-12. Reintegration of land- and cityscape in the Baroque period and in the organic architectural trend. Aerial view of Santa Maria Maggiore, Rome, with the facade by Ferdinando Fuga, inserted into the building block (1736). Three works by Frank Lloyd Wright: Midway Gardens, Chicago (1914); Taliesin West, Arizona (1938); Price House, Bartlesville, Oklahoma (1955).
Following pages: 213-15. Piazza Navona in Rome, with the curvature of Sant'Agnese in Agone, by Borromini. Two views of the Johnson Administration Building, Racine, Wis consin, by Wright (1936).
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214 The Modern Language of Architecture
countryside. In his Broadacre City project, he proposed urbanizing the entire region, providing for fulcrums of powerful density ver- tebrated by mile-high skyscrapers that hark to the future.
The principle of reintegration qualifies every valid contribution today. Two examples are Habitat '67 in Montreal, by Moshe Safdie, and John Johansen's Mummers Theater in Oklahom a City. Both structures, assemblages of cells and communication tubes, are open, unfinished, absorbing the city space within their organ isms in an uninterrupted dialogue of internal, external, private, and public voids. W ith Wright, a new architectural language was born. However exasperatingly slow its assimilation may be, it has put its stamp on all contemporary research and trends.
216-17. Spatial temporizing and reintegration in Sant'Ivo alia Sapienza, Rome (1642-60), by Francesco Borromini. Spatial temporizing and building-city reinte gration in the Guggenheim Museum, New York (1946—59), by Frank Lloyd Wright. For a comparison between the helicoids of these two works see 30 and 31. The extraordinary affinity between Borromini and Wright is particularly surprising in that the genius of Taliesin almost ignored the Baroque master.
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Preceding pages: 218. Aerial view of M atera, in southern Italy, w ith the inhabited areas known as "1 Sassi"—a dramatic document of prehistoric life that has survived to the present. Above: 219. A night view of Las Vegas, striking example of a culture reduced to the nadir: Pop architecture and Pop planning. Following pages: 220-21. A primitive village of the Dogon tribe in Mali, W est Africa. Barriadas in Lima, Peru, today.
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Conclusion: Prehistory and the Zero Degree of Architectural Culture
H istoriography, revivals, and the m odern language are the three keys we have used to exam ine the architectural evolu tion from the m onum ents of ancient Greece to the Baroque period. W e have seen tha t, on the one hand, erudite probes in to the past have incited orgies of stylistic eclecticism, w hose only m erit has been to overthrow the despotism of neoclassicism. O n the other, how ever, research in to h istory has nu rtu red m odern culture w ith a feedback, the m ore incisive the less it is evident.
W hat now rem ains is to review the eons of p reh istory , the architecture of hundreds of thousands of years before the inven tion of w riting. Side by side w ith recorded history , prehistory has continued to exist. It is w ith us even today in countries still technologically prim itive, in backw ard rural areas, and, to some extent, in the anonym ous buildings of the city slum s— in short, w herever professional architects are, and have been, m issing, and kitsch dom inates the scene. Here is an im m ense patrim ony that ranges over m illennia, from the prim itive settlem ents of paleo lithic tim es to the gaudy neon signs of Las Vegas, encom passing vernaculars, spontaneous, exotic idiom s and dialects, language form s ex traneous to the official codes. Even shan ty tow ns im planted on m ounds of refuse deposited by our industria l society can be considered prim itive entities, b rought to our aesthetic a t ten tion by Pop Art.
Interest in preh istory and prim itive architecture has m ounted considerably over the past decades. W hy? O nce again, the m otives are b o th creative and critical. The s tudy of regions, landscapes, and m inor settlem ents and the grow th of urban research have
219
222 The Modern Language of Architecture
led us to recognize the values of "architecture w ithout architects/7 of humble environments and simple social fabrics. Unless we know and understand them, we shall fail to grasp the context that underlies the emergence of major monuments. Indeed, there are sublime achievements, like the Piazza del Campo in Siena and the Piazza di Spagna in Rome, which boast no buildings of any special importance, and splendid cities, Ferrara for one, cre ated by architects of modest stature. Since modern planning em braces the whole physical gamut of hum an communities, it is only logical that in its investigations it should include "out-of- time" aggregates, barriadas and favelas, hovels and shanties—every thing that art historians have thus far disdainfully banned from their books.
Architects have another, more profound, reason for consulting prehistory. In an epoch of hasty, feverish building activity, when linguistic codes age w ithout maturing and submit to wanton abuse even before they have been formalized, they revert to the original sources, to the habitat of uncivilized man and the underprivileged who live like aborigines within the m etropolitan magma. Sickened by the crude expedients and superficial forms he sees around him, the architect, to use Roland Barthes7 terms, descends to the "zero degree" of his culture and tries to adapt his work to the popular idioms. Such a "hippy" operation is pregnant w ith am bi guities and illusions, yet it is healthy all the same. To be sure, every architectural revolution begins by rejecting the official code and leveling it to the nadir. In different ways and to different degrees, Brunelleschi, Michelangelo, and Borromini did just that. Also Gaudi, inspired by the grottoes of Almeria and the caves; W right, in the Ocotillo Desert Camp (1927) near Chandler, Ari zona; M endelsohn, when he discovered the "architecture of
222-25. Above: Neolithic village of Ba Ila in Northern Rhodesia. Center: two views of geodesic domes in the "hippy" community of Drop City in Trinidad, Colorado. Below: Habitat '67, Montreal, by Moshe Safdie. Following pages: 226. Matmata village in southern Tunisia, with craters converted into living quar ters: underground cavities put to domestic use by cavemen. 227-31. "Architecture of the dunes," five sketches by Erich Mendelsohn, dated 1920. The Expressionist vision finds incentives in a landscape constantly varied by the sweeping wind.
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226 The Modern Language of Architecture
dunes"; and Le Corbusier who, at Ronchamp, denied the five principles laid down in 1921. Safdie, too, demolished the prevail ing code when he transplanted a Middle Eastern village into Can ada together with the community spirit of the Kibbutz, and Johan sen when he piled junk upon junk to build his M ummers Theater. In the same category we can also include the works of the informel trend, the pseudotroglodytic volumes and "sculptured spaces" of Andre Bloc, the open-ended structures by Frederick Kiesler, Claude Parent's oblique projects, and the so-called "earth architecture."
M ore and m ore we train our sights on prehistory as our illusions about the fu ture of the technological society ebb aw ay, as we aw ake to the ex ten t of the ecological disasters besetting our planet, to the gigantism th a t alienates m an from his fellow m en and his surroundings, to the bureaucratic process by w hich the in d i vidual is reduced to a conform ity deprived of quality . M odern painting nods approval of prim itive gestures and in stan t actions. A lberto Burri and R obert Rauschenberg exhibit rags in soph isti cated m useum s. M odern music welcomes the aesthetics of noise and aleatory techniques. The young exist by im provisation and clothe them eselves in ta tters in the belief th a t they are bringing art into their lives.
Psychoanalysis and anthropology exam ine the behavior, to tems, sym bols, and taboos of prim itive peoples to single ou t those elem entary and instinctive needs tha t m echanized civilization has repressed. In architecture, too, the "zero degree" m eans to repose all the basic questions, m uch as if we were to build the first house in history. Is the m etropolitan aggregate, jam -packed w ith m illions of dw ellers, com patible w ith the survival of the individ-
232-33. Two views of the Mummers Theatre, Oklahoma City (1971), by John Johansen: architectural conventions demolished, an assemblage of scraps and wreckage, “action architecture" built out of “pieces and circuits." Following pages: 234. Dwellings at Metameur, southern Tunisia, which repropose man's prehistoric existence in natural caves. 235-36. Villa "a rajada" near Gland, Switzerland, by Robert Frei, Christian Hun- ziker, and Henry Presset (1961). Model for a recreational center near Chambery, Savoie, by Pascal Häusermann (1967).
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ual? W hat are the lim its of social tolerance beyond w hich eco nomic developm ent becomes suicidal? Do the paths and tracks of the archaic village postu late the geom etric street chessboard, subsequently canonized by H ippodam us of M iletus, or are we better off w ith system s th a t discard right angles and squares? Does W right's principle, “ the house as shelter," reflect the urgency of our forebears to go underground, a desire evidenced repeatedly over the centuries in subterranean tem ples, in the catacom bs, in Renaissance and Baroque grottoes, and in contem porary basem ent nightclubs? O r is the principle of pilotis, the house on stilts, cham pioned by Le C orbusier, m ore valid, as prehistoric pile dw ell ings seem to show? A nd again: does no t the w all enveloping interior space w ith o u t panels juxtaposed at righ t angles and stitched together— as we find in Capri, Positano, Ravello, and Amalfi; in the dom ed roofs of the Ligurian Riviera; and in the cone-shaped stone trulli of A pulia— offer an organic u n ity prefera ble to Renaissance and De Stijl decom position? A nd does not the fusion of house and street, as in the cave dw ellings of M atera, suggest a precedent for the trend tow ard reintegration? Do not the dolm ens and m enhirs strew n over prehistoric sectors, and the m ysterious ru ins of Stonehenge in England, testify th a t m onu m e n ta lly is deeply rooted in the hum an soul?
A rchitects are assailed by innum erable questions th a t dem and scientific answ ers. This is not a m atter of regressing to rom antic a ttitudes ou t of a m ystical fascination w ith a legendary past but, on the contrary, of pu tting the dialogue betw een art and criticism on a system atic basis. This dialogue requires energy and courage, a rereading of p reh istory and history so th a t we can w rite and speak the m odern language of architecture.
237. Model for the Roosevelt Memorial, Washington, D.C., by William F. Peder son and Bradford S. Tilney. This project won the 1960 competition: a crown of “prehistoric" stelae with platforms creating an altitudinally staggered podium. Following pages: 238. Aerial view of the so-called Temple of the Sun at Stonehenge, near Salisbury. This most spectacular of all prehistoric monuments is ascribed to the era between 1800 and 1400 b.c . When interest in prehistory is immune from nihilist romanti cism, it offers a valid and fertile source of verification for modern architecture.
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Index
Page num bers in italics refer to illustrations.
Aalto, Alvar, 4, 29-30, 52, 65, 67, 69, 72, 76, 187, 194, 195, 198, 199, ZOO- 1, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206
Adler, Dankmar, 92, 93 Adorno, Theodor, 74-75 Alberti, Leon Battista, 192, 193 Algiers: town plan (Le Corbusier), 72 Almeria, 222 Amalfi, 230 Amiens: cathedral, 138-39, 140 Amsterdam —Stock Exchange (Berlage), 132, 133 —Rijksmuseum (Cuypers), 139 Anker, Alfons, 178, 179 Antonelli, Alessandro, 156 Antwerp: plan (Le Corbusier), 98, 101 Apulia: trulli, 230 Archigram Group, 62, 66 Arnolfo di Cambio, 94, 160 Ashbee, Charles Robert, 130 Asplund, Erik Gunnar, 192, 193, 198 Athens —Acropolis, 18, 48, 53, 98, 99, 100 —Erectheum, 18, 47, 98 —Parthenon, 49, 94, 95, 96, 98, 99, 100,
101, 106, 108 —Propylaea (Mnesicles), 18, 47, 98, 99,
106 —Temple of A thena Nike, 98, 99 —Theater of Dionysus, 112, 113
Baalbek, 102, 112 Baccio D 'Agnolo, 174, 176
Ba Ila, 222, 223 Barcelona —German Pavilion (Mies van der
Rohe), 34, 35, 182, 183 —Mila House (Gaudi), 186, 189, 190 —Palace of Catalonian Music (Dome-
nech i M ontaner), 126, 127 Barozzi, Jacopo da Vignola, 29, 192,
193, 194, 204, 205 Barry, Charles, 123 Barthes, Roland, 7, 82, 222 Bartlesville, Okla.: Price House
(W right), 210, 211 Bartning, O tto, 190, 191 Basile, Ernesto, 132 Bath: Landsdown Crescent, 204, 206 Bauhaus. See Dessau Baytown, Tex.: refinery, 143, 144 Bear Run, Pa.: Falling W ater House
(W right), 38, 43, 73, 92, 93, 210 Beccaria, Cesare, 83 Bellow, Saul, 64—65 Benvenuto, Giovanello di. See Giova-
nello di Benvenuto Berlage, Hendrik Petrus, 122, 126, 132,
133, 139 Berlin —Alexanderplatz, project (Luckhardt),
180, 181 —Brandenburg Gate (Langhans), 98 —"N eue W ache" (Schinkel), 98 —W ertheim D epartm ent Store (M es
sel), 144 Berlin-Dahlem: housing (Luckhardt
and Anker), 178, 179 Bernini, Gian Lorenzo, 194, 195
234
Index 235
Bexley Heath, Kent: Red House (Morris and Webb), 27, 65, 92, 93, 130, 139
Bloc, Andre, 226 Boito, Camillo, 124, 126-27, 132 Bonatz, Paul, 110 Bonnet, Patrice, 102, 103 Borromini, Francesco, 4, 34, 36, 50, 65,
70, 76, 81, 196, 198, 199, 200- 1, 202, 203, 204, 208, 212, 214, 215, 222
Boston: City Hall Plaza (Rudolph), 208, 209
Bram: town plan, 164, 165 Bramante, Donato, 29, 94, 95 Britton, John, 123 Bruges: Town Hall tower, 156, 158 Brunei, Isambaard Kingdom, 124 Brunelleschi, Filippo, 65, 77, 94, 95,
171,174, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 192, 193, 222
Brussels —House, Avenue Palmerston (Horta),
148, 149 —House, Rue de Turin (Horta), 144 —Maison du Peuple (Horta), 148, 156,
157 —Palais Stoclet (Hoffman), 150, 154,
155 Studio, Saint-Gilles (Horta), 92, 93 Buffalo, N.Y. —Guaranty Building (Adler and Sulli
van), 92, 93 —Martin and Barton Houses (Wright),
54 Buonarroti, Michelangelo, 4, 25, 26- 27 ,
50, 65-66, 70, 76-77, 78- 80, 94, 95, 186, 187, 188, 190, 196, 198, 208, 222
Burckhardt, Jacob, 26, 171 Burnham, Daniel Hudson, 156, 157 Burri, Alberto, 66, 226
Cagnola, Luigi, 110 Cambridge, England —Cloister Court, Queen's College, 132,
134 —King's College Chapel, 150, 152-53 Cambridge, Mass. —MIT chapel (Saarinen), 61 —MIT dormitories (Aalto), 52, 204,
205, 206 Candela, Felix, 41, 42 Canina, Luigi, 110
Canova, Antonio, 125 Canterbury: cathedral, 150 Caprarola: Palazzo Famese (Vignola),
202, 204, 205 Capri, 230 Camac: dolmen, 94, 95 Caserta: Reggia (Palazzo Reale) (Vanvi-
telli), 94, 95, 204, 205 Chambery: recreational center (Häuser
mann), 226, 229 Chandigarh: Capitol and city plan (Le
Corbusier), 69, 102, 103- 5, 187 Chandler, Ariz.: Ocotillo Desert Camp
(Wright), 222 Charlottesville, Va.: library, University
of Virginia (Jefferson), 110 Chartres: cathedral, 142, 144, 160, 161 Chicago, 111. —'The Illinois" (Wright), 156, 159 —Illinois Institute of Technology (Mies
van der Rohe), 132, 134 —Midway Gardens (Wright), 210, 211 —Monadnock Building (Root and
Burnham), 156, 157 Cholula: pyramid, 96 Civita Castellana: cathedral, 94 Cluny: abbey, 94 Coalbrookdale: bridge, 139 Cockerell, Charles Robert, 110 Cola di Matteuccio di Caprarola, 174,
175 Contamin, Victor, 138, 141 Corbett, Harvey Wiley, 160 Cresy, Edward, 110 Cromwell, Oliver, 64 Cuypers, Petrus Josephus Hubertus,
139
Dacca: Convention Hall (Kahn), 112, 114
Delacroix, Eugene, 37 Della Porta, Giacomo, 192, 193 De Saussure, Ferdinand, 75 De Soissons, Louis, 164, 167 Dessau: Bauhaus (Gropius), 33, 34, 68 Devoto, Giacomo, 83-84 Diedo, Antonio, 125 Di Giorgio, Francesco (Francesco di
Giorgio Martini), 77 Domenech i Montaner, Lluis, 126, 127 Domach: Goetheanum (Steiner), 190
236 Index
Dutert, Charles-Louis-Ferdinand, 138, 141
Egina: Temple of Afaia, 106 Eiffel, Gustave-Alexandre, 40,124, 138,
156 Einstein, Albert, 53 Elgin, Thomas Bruce, 96 Elmes, Harvey, 110 Erskine, Ralph, 204, 207
Falling W ater House (W right). See Bear Run, Pa.
Ferrara — Addizione Erculea (Rossetti), 26, 81 —Palazzo Schifanoia, Room of the
M onths, 20 —Town plan, 26, 222 Florence —Duomo (Santa Maria del Fiore), cu
pola (Brunelleschi), 42, 94, 95, 129 —Fortifications of 1529 (M ichelan
gelo), 27, 77, 78-80, 190, 191 —Horne House (Simone del Pollaiolo),
204, 205 —Laurentian Library (Michelangelo),
186-87, 189 —Palazzo Bartolini-Salimbeni (Baccio
d'Agnolo), 174, 176, 178 —Palazzo Pitti (Brunelleschi), 178, 179 —Palazzo Strozzi (Benedetto da
M aiano and Cronaca), 190 —Palazzo Vecchio tower (Arnolfo di
Cambio), 21, 160 —Piazza della Santissima Annunziata,
180, 181, 190, 191, 204 —Ospedale degli Innocenti (Brunelle
schi), 174, 181, 182, 183 —San Lorenzo (Brunelleschi), 178, 192,
193 —San M iniato al M onte, 94 Fors: paper mill (Erskine), 204, 207 Fouilhoux, Jean-Andre, 160 Fourier, Charles, 160 Frei, Robert, 226, 229 Fuga, Ferdinando, 210, 211 Fuller, Buckminster Richard, 41, 42,
150, 153
Gamier, Tony, 110, 171 Gaudi, Antoni, 69, 186, 189, 190, 222
Giacomo di Servadio, 156, 157 Giovannello di Benvenuto, 156, 157 Giulio Romano, 184-85, 186 Gland: villa "a rajada" (Frei, Hunziker,
and Presset), 226, 229 Gropius, W alter, 4, 29-30, 33, 34, 65,
68, 72, 76, 85, 174 Guimard, Hector, 150
Häusermann, Pascal, 226, 229 Harrison, Wallace Kirkman, 160 Haussmann, Georges-Eugene, 26, 130 Hippodamus of M iletus, 102, 230 Hoffman, Joseph, 150, 154, 155 Hofmeister, Henry, 160 Hood, Raymond M., 160 Horace, 124 Horkheimer, M ax, 74 Horta, Victor, 92, 9 3 ,144,148, 149,150,
156 Howard, Ebenezer, 160, 164 Howe, George, 156 Hundertwasser, Friedrich, 64 Hunziker, Christian, 226, 229
Inwood, W illiam H., 98 Istanbul: Hagia Sophia, 42
Jeanneret, Charles Edouard. See Le Corbusier
Jefferson, Thomas, 110 Jencks, Charles, 6 Johansen, John, 4, 58, 59, 65, 67, 214,
226, 227 Jones, Inigo, 123 Jungmann, J. P., 62 Juvarra, Filippo, 94
Kahn, Louis, 52, 59, 60, 68, 112, 113 Kankakee, 111.: Hickox House (Wright),
132 Kenyon, A rthur, 164, 167 Kiesler, Frederick, 226 Klenze, Leo von, 98 Kuttenberg: Santa Barbara, 150, 151 Kyoto: temple, Byödö-in, 96, 97
Lakeland, Fla.: Florida Southern Col lege (W right), 112, 116, 117, 119
Langhans, Karl G otthard, 98 Langley, Batty, 123
Index 237
Las Vegas, Nev.: tow n plan, 218, 219 Latrobe, Benjamin, 98 Le Corbusier (Charles-Edouard Jean-
neret), 4, 12, 16, 29-30, 47, 52, 59, 65, 67, 68-70, 72, 76, 85, 92, 93, 96, 98, 99, 102, 106-7, 112, 115, 170, 173, 174, 187, 196, 197, 226, 230
Leghorn: water tank (Poccianti), 126, 127
Leonardo da Vinci, 170, 172 Le Rainey: Notre Dame (Perret), 144,
145 Lescaze, W illiam, 156 Letchworth: city plan, 164 Lima: barriadas, 218, 221 Liverpool: St. George's Hall (Eimes and
Cockerell), 98, 110 London — Bank of England (Soane), 98 —British M useum (Smirke), 90, 98 —Cenotaph of W hitehall, 18 —Crystal Palace (Paxton), 139 —St. Pancras (Inwood), 98 —W estm inster Palace (Barry), 123 Loos, Adolf, 4, 18, 55, 92, 93 Lucignano: tow n plan, 164, 165 Luckhardt, Hans, 178, 179, 181 Luckhardt, Wassili, 178, 179, 181 Lucretius, 83 Lyons — La Tourette M onastery, Eveux-sur-
l'Arbresle (Le Corbusier), 69, 187 —Stadium (Gamier), 110
M acM urray, W. H., 160 Madrid: racecourse (Torroja), 42 Maillart, Robert, 180, 182, 183 Mali: Dogon village, 218, 220 M antua — Burgo paper p lant (Nervi), 42 —Palazzo del Te, fresco (Giulio Ro
mano), 184-85, 186 —Sant'Andrea (Alberti), 192, 193 Marcuse, Herbert, 67 Marseilles: Unite d 'H abitation (Le Cor
busier), 59 M artini, Francesco di Giorgio, 77 Matera: "I Sassi," 216-17, 218, 230 M atmata: village, 222, 224 M ay, Ernst, 164
M endelsohn, Erich, 29, 68—70, 76, 85, 190, 191, 222, 225
Messel, Alfred, 144 M etameur: dwellings, 226, 228 Michelangelo. See Buonarroti, M ichel
angelo Mies van der Rohe, Ludwig, 4, 29-30,
34, 35, 65, 67-68, 72, 76, 132, 134, 174, 180, 182, 183
Milan: Sant'Am brogio, 94, 132, 133 Miletus: urban grid, 102 Mnesicles, 18, 66, 106 M ondrian, Piet, 31 Monticello: country house (Jefferson),
110 M ontm agny: Church of St. Teresa (Per
ret), 144 M ontreal —American Pavilion, cupola (Fuller),
150, 153 —Habitat '67 (Safdie), 59, 60, 214, 222,
223 M ont-Saint-M ichel, 136-37, 156 M orandi, Riccardo, 41, 42 M oretti, Gaetano, 126, 127, 132 Morris, William, 11, 27, 65, 71, 92, 93,
123-24, 129-30, 132, 139 Moscow: Palace of the Third Interna
tional (Tatlin), 160, 163 Musmeci, Sergio, 43
Nervi, Pier Luigi, 40, 42, 156 New Lanark: city plan (Owen), 164 New York —Broadway, 21 —Finnish Pavilion (Aalto), 198, 199-
201 —Ford Foundation Building, 59 —Guggenheim M useum (W right), 29,
52-53, 54, 90, 210, 214, 215 —H aughw out Building (Gaynor), 90 —Pennsylvania Station, 110 —Rockefeller Center (Hood and Fouil-
houx, Reinhard and Hofmeister, Corbett, Harrison and MacM urray), 160, 161
—Town plan, 21 —Trinity Church (Upjohn), 90 —W oolw orth Building, 156 Nimes: Pont du Gard, 94, 95
238 Index
North Easton, Mass.: Ames Gate Lodge (Richardson), 92, 93
North Luffenham, Rutland: "The Pas tures" (Voysey), 130, 131
Novara: San Gaudenzio (Antonelli), 156
Oklahoma City: Mummers Theater (Jo hansen), 58, 59, 66, 214, 226, 227
Oldenburg, Claes, 66 Olympia, 112 Orbetello: hangars (Nervi), 40, 42 O tto, Frei, 41, 42 Oud, Jacobus Johannes Pieter, 174, 175 Owen, Robert, 160, 164 Oxford —Bodleian Library, 150, 154 —Faculty of History (Stirling), 186
Palladio, Andrea, 29, 66, 77, 125 Palmyra: town plan, 102 Palos Verdes, Calif.: chapel (W right),
144, 147 Parent, Claude, 226 Paris —Arc de Triomphe, 18 —Church of the Madeleine (Vignon),
98, 110 —City plan (Haussmann), 21, 26, 130 —Eiffel Tower, 40, 138 —Galerie des M achines (Contam in and
Dutert), 139, 141 —House at Porte Molitor, interior (Le
Corbusier), 107 —Maison La Roche, Auteuil (Le Cor
busier), 92, 93, 174, 176 —Metro station (Guimard), 150, 151 —Notre Dame, 139, 144, 145 —Opera (Gamier), 90 —Ozenfant's studio house (Le Corbu
sier), 174, 176 —Pantheon (Soufflot), 90, 110 —Sainte-Chapelle, 144, 146 —Saint-Severin, 160, 162 —Swiss Pavilion, University (Le Cor
busier), 52 Paxton, Joseph, 124 Pederson, William F., 230, 231 Perret, Auguste, 144, 145 Perugia —Medieval street, 120-21, 122
—Town hall (Giacomo di Servadio and Giovannello di Benvenuto), 156, 157
—Town plan, 21, 164, 166 Phaestos, 94, 95 Phidias, 95, 100, 102, 108 Philadelphia —Civic center, project (Kahn), 113 —Saving Fund Society Building (Howe
and Lescaze), 156 Piacentini, Marcello, 42, 110 Pittsburgh: prison (Richardson), 122 Plato, 84 Pliny: villa, 124 Poccianti, Pasquale, 110, 126, 127 Poissy: Villa Savoye (Le Corbusier), 30,
52, 98, 99, 102, 107 Pollaiolo, Simone del. See Simone del
Pollaiolo Pontormo (Jacopo Carrucci), 70 Porta, Giacomo della. See Della Porta,
Giacomo Positano, 230 Possagno: tem ple (Canova), 125 Potsdam —Einstein Observatory (Mendelsohn),
190, 191 —St. Nikolaus (Schinkel), 98 Prato: Santa Maria delle Carceri (Giu-
liano da Sangallo), 168- 69, 170, 178, 192, 194, 202
Presset, Henry, 226, 229 Priene: acropolis and urban grid, 102,
103-5 Pugin, Augustus, 123 Pugin, Augustus W elby, 123
Quincy, Mass.: Crane Library (Rich ardson), 122
Racine, Wis.: Johnson Wax Building (W right), 210, 212, 213
Rainaldi, Carlo, 194, 195, 197 Rauschenberg, Robert, 226 Ravello, 230 Red House (M orris and W ebb). See Bex
ley Heath, Kent Reinhard, A ndrew L., 160 Revett, Nicholas, 96 Richardson, Henry Hobson, 92, 93, 122,
126, 132, 139
Index 239
Rickman, Thomas, 123 Riegl, Alois, 110 Rietveld, Gerrit Thomas, 170, 180 River Forest, 111.: Roberts House
(Wright), 210 Rome —Antonine column, 110 —Basilica of Porta Maggiore, 94 —Baths of Caracalla, 110 —Cancelleria, courtyard (Bramante),
178 —Catacombs, 48, 94, 95 —EUR, 28, 42 —Flavian Amphitheater (Colosseum),
112, 113 —Gesü (Vignola), 192, 193, 194, 202 —Palazzetto dello Sport (Nervi), 42 —Palazzetto Venezia, 18 —Palazzo Barberini, 202 —Palazzo dei Conservatori (Michelan
gelo), 94, 95 —Palazzo Famese (Michelangelo), 24,
25, 190, 191 —Palazzo Littorio (Ministry of Foreign
Affairs), 57 —Palazzo del Quirinale, 208, 209 —Palazzo della Regina Margherita
(U.S. Embassy), 36 —Palazzo della Sapienza, 198, 201, 202,
203 —Palazzo dello Sport, EUR (Nervi and
Piacentini), 42 —Palazzo Torlonia, 18 —Palazzo Venezia, 16 —Pantheon, 42, 48, 49, 110, 202 —Piazza del Campidoglio (Michelan
gelo), 25, 26, 187, 190, 191, 204 —Piazza Navona, 210, 212 —Piazza dell'Orologio, 36 —Piazza del Quirinale, 48, 208, 209 —Piazza di Spagna, 204, 208, 209, 222 —Piazza Venezia, 16, 18, 208 —Porta Pia (Michelangelo), 190 —Railway station, 20 —Regina Coeli jail, 77 —Sant'Agnese in the Piazza Navona
(Borromini), 50, 196, 198, 199, 201, 202, 208, 210, 212
—Sant'Andrea al Quirinale (Bernini), 194, 195
—San Carlino alle Quattro Fontane (Borromini), 196, 208
—San Filippo Neri Monastery (Bor romini), 34, 36
—Sant'Ivo alia Sapienza (Borromini), 50, 90, 198, 201, 202, 203, 208, 214, 215
—Santa Maria in Campitelli (Rainaldi), 194, 195, 196, 197
—Santa Maria in Cosmedin, 94 —Santa Maria Maggiore (Fuga), 208,
210 , 211 —St. Peter's Basilica (Michelangelo),
26, 50, 190, 196, 208 —San Pietro in Montorio (Bramante),
94, 95 —Strada Pia (via XX Settembre), 208 —Temple of Minerva Medica, 48, 49,
112 —Trajan's column, 110 —Trinita dei Monti, 204 —Vatican audience hall (Nervi), 42 —Vatican Belvedere, stairway (Bra
mante), 202 —Victor Emmanuel Monument, 16,
17-18, 36 —Via Condotti, 208 —Via del Corso, 208 Ronchamp: Chapelle de Notre Dame du
Haut (Le Corbusier), 12, 68—69, 72, 102, 107, 187, 196, 197, 226
Root, John Wellborn, 132, 156 Rossetti, Biagio, 26, 65-66, 81 Rosso Fiorentino (Giovan Battista di Ja
copo), 70 Rotterdam: Kiefhoek workers' housing
(Oud), 174, 175 Rudolph, Paul, 208, 209 Ruskin, John, 123-24
Saarinen, Eero, 61 Sabaudia: city plan, 164 Safdie, Moshe, 4, 60, 65, 67, 214, 222,
223, 226 Salisbury: cathedral, 150 Sangallo, Giuliano da, 168- 69, 170, 190 Sanmicheli, Michele, 77 Scharoun, Hans, 4 Schinkel, Karl Friedrich, 98, 171 Schoenberg, Arnold, 22, 63, 85
240 Index
Scottsdale, Ariz.: Taliesin West (Wright), 52, 210, 211
Selva, Giannantonio, 125 Servadio, Giacomo di. See Giacomo di
Servadio Shakespeare, William, 128 Siena —City plan, 21 —Piazza del Campo, 22 , 222 —Town hall, 156 Simone del Pollaiolo, 204, 205 Sitte, Camillo, 160, 164 Smirke, Robert, 90 , 98 Smith, Norris Kelly, 52 Soane, John, 98 Soufflot, Jacques-Germain, 90 , 110 Speer, Albert, 42 Speeth, Peter, 90 Split: Palace of Diocletian, 102 Spring Green, Wis.: Taliesin (Wright),
52 Steiner, Rudolf, 190 Stirling, James, 186 Stockholm: Pavilions (Asplund), 192,
193 Stonehenge, 230, 232-33 Strasbourg: cathedral, 156 Strawberry Hill, Twickenham (Wal
pole), 94, 95 Strickland, William, 98 Stuart, James, 96 Stuttgart: railroad station (Bonatz), 110 Sullivan, Henry Louis, 92, 93, 210 Summerson, John, 3, 5
Taliesin (Wright). See Spring Green, Wis.
Taliesin West (Wright). See Scottsdale, Ariz.
Tatlin, Vladimir, 160, 163 Taut, Bruno, 96, 164 Taylor, George Ledwell, 110 Teotihuacän —Sun Pyramid, 96, 97 —Temple of Quetzalcoatl, 96, 97 Tilney, Bradford S., 230, 231 Tivoli —Hadrian's Villa, 47, 48 , 65, 110, 111,
112, 115, 116, 117, 118 —Temple of the Sybil, 98
Todi: Santa Maria della Consolazione (Cola di Matteuccio da Caprarola), 174, 175
Torroja, Eduardo, 41 , 42 Tours: St. Martin, 94 Trezzo d'Adda: electric powerhouse
(Moretti), 126, 127 Trinidad, Colo.: Drop City, 222, 223 Tschiel-Bach Valley: bridge (Maillart),
182, 183 Turin —Exhibition Hall (Nervi), 40 —Mole (Antonelli), 156 —Palazzo del Lavoro (Nervi), 42 —Palazzo Madama, 204 —Underground automobile showroom
(Morandi), 42 Tuscania: San Pietro, 94, 95
Van de Velde, Henry, 92, 144, 150 Van Doesburg, Theo, 91, 180 Vanvitelli, Luigi, 94, 95 , 204, 205 Venice —Austrian Pavilion (Hoffman), 150,
154, 155 —Church of the Redeemer, 125 —Ducal Palace, 150, 154, 155 Vicenza: Villa Rotonda (Palladio), 124 Vienna: house, Nothartgasse (Loos), 92,
93 Vignola (Jacopo da Vignola Barozzi),
29, 192, 193, 194, 204, 205 Vignon, Barthelemy, 110 Viipuri: library (Aalto), 194, 195 Vinci, Leonardo da. See Leonardo da
Vinci Viollet-le-Duc, Eugene Emmanuel, 124,
139 Viterbo: Piazza San Pellegrino, 130,
131 Voysey, Charles Francis Annesley, 130,
131, 132
Wagner, Otto, 171 Walpole, Horace, 94, 95 Washington, D.C.: Roosevelt Memo
rial, project (Pederson and Tilney), 230, 231
Webb, Philip, 92, 93 Wells: cathedral, 148
Index 241
W elwyn: city plan (Howard, De Sois- sons, and Kenyon), 164, 167
Wickhoff, Franz, 110 W inckelm ann, Johann Joachim, 96 Wölfflin, Heinrich, 192 W ood, Robert, 102 W ren, Christopher, 123
W right, Frank Lloyd, 4, 29, 30, 38, 40, 43, 52, 54, 65, 67-68, 70-71, 73, 76, 85, 93, 96, 97, 112, 116, 117, 119, 132, 156, 187, 210, 214, 215, 222, 230
W right, Lloyd, 144, 147 W ürzburg: prison (Speeth), 90
Photographie Sources
A.C.I.: 132 Aerofilms: 142 Aereonautica: 141, 213 Aircraft O perating Co.: 201 Alinari: 48, 83, 94, 100, 125, 129, 143,
1 4 9 ,1 5 2 ,1 5 4 ,1 5 7 ,1 6 1 ,1 7 6 ,1 9 6 ,1 9 7 , 198, 209
A riba A m tpi: 202 A nderson: 148 W ayne A ndrew s: 35, 96 A ntich itä Lazio: 81 Arch. Phot.: 56 Berliner B ild-B ericht: 158, 159 Patrice B onnet: 70 C.A.F.: 140 M ario Carrieri: 99 C hevojon: 120 C hicago A rch itec tu ra l P ho to Co.: 40,
210 C o u n try Life: 124 Crudo: 180 D iakakes: 54 D unlop: 237 Editions d 'A rt: 107 Editions Valoire: 134 Em m et Bright: 47 Enit: 203 E.T.A.: 168 Ferruzzi: 128 Fotocelere: 50 Fotocielo: 218 Gomis: 97 G rand Palais: 52 G uerreo: 89 G uggenheim M useum : 31, 217
Guhler: 160 Hendrich-Blessing: 38 Hosain: 85 Ingervo: 192 Jeiter: 111, 115 Joly & Cardot: 236 Kersting: 45, 118 Kidder Smith: 109 Korab: 232 Kosmack: 101 Köster: 172 Lacombe: 224 Leadabrand: 112 Le Moult: 136 Lombard: 79, 80 Martin: 121 Arxiu Mas: 165, 166 Mastellone: 87 Meletzis: 53, 82 Mella: 57 Museum of M odern Art: 137 Roger-Viollet: 37 Roubier: 113 Rapho: 58 Reiffenstein: 41 Savio: 164, 167 S.C.A.: 108 Shulm an: 116, 117 Sm ith: 32 S.P.A.D.E.M .: 183 Sterns: 105 Stoller: 91, 191, 199 T hom as A irview s: 135 W iesen 43
past century on architecture from ancient Greece through the Baroque reveals that each historical contribution had two opposite effects: the negative one of stimulating a revival and the positive one of enriching the modern language of architecture. Thus we find striking analogies between Le Corbusier and Greek town planning, Louis Kahn and Roman architecture of the age of Hadrian, the Arts and Crafts movement and medieval idioms, and, most notably, the two spirals of Borromini's church of Sant'Ivo alia Sapienza in Rome and Frank Lloyd W right's Guggenheim M useum in New York.
Bruno Zevi, professor of architectural history at the University of Rome, is the author of num er ous books, including Architecture as Space, which has been translated into eleven languages and is a basic text in architectural courses in m any countries. The Modern Language of Architecture is translated from two books originally published in Italian which formed the substance of two W alker-Ames Lectures delivered at the University of W ashington in January and February 1977.
<S>
Australian National University Press Canberra
ISBN 0-7081-0885-7 Printed in the United States of America
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