I've had the privilege at USC to be exposed for the first time to architecture in terms of philosophy. Not philosophy in terms of architecture, which tends to explain design through top-down, esoteric means while glossing over pragmatic intention, but rather a way of thinking that exposes the root self-organizing generators of cities and buildings as functions of the behavior of people and their various hierarchical structures (government, regulatory agencies, neighborhood councils, etc.). In other words, in many real cases the question has to be asked, where does architecture come from? As opposed to, what is it, or what is it trying to be, or why does it appear a certain way. This approach to understanding architecture holds great appeal for me, as I am strongly interested in the connection between life, particularly American life, and the built environment.
[Manuel de Landa, trying to communicate his theories to architects...]
The vision is an answer to the fundamental question: what shall we build in any given place, where a project is to be undertaken. This question does not ask how it is organized, how it is designed, what character the architecture has…but simply the most fundamental question of all: what is it? What is going to be there?
In today’s development, this question is asked, and answered, almost exclusively in economic terms. What can pay for itself there? What can make money there?
Of course the projects which are built, in answer to this question, and after the necessary consumer surveys, are machine-like, abstract, lifeless. They are uninteresting, not vivid. They are incapable of exciting us, or moving us, because they are not human in their quality.
The discovery of building as a new paradigm in our work happened at the same time as a change in the situation of the western city, which involved the extensive reformulation of conditions affecting contemporary architecture as a whole : the gradual privatization of the public space of the city. Faced with a complete lack of public funds, cities and local authorities found themselves increasingly unable to play an active role in urban planning developments, and instead sold out to investors, who helped themselves to the biggest and best pieces of the city. It was a game whose end could be predicted: architecture would end up as infrastructure built to maximize the profits of a global economy.
Both of these statements address the following phenomenon: the end of the era of master planning and a renewed interest in the piecemeal / naturally evolving urbanism that preceded the Modern Movement. Just through observation, one can recognize the the traces of corporate interest inhabit nearly every piece of American architecture [which encompasses all building construction] over the last fifty years, save a few exceptional examples. It will be fascinating to see how the relationship between economics and architecture - which at the moment is strained to the breaking point - changes over the next few years.
[Even existing innovative / experimental / controversial buildings like this (Buckhead Library, Scogin Elam & Bray, 1989) are under threat of demolition for economic concerns. Is there room for a shift in values for exceptional cases?]
(This will an evolving post, so don't be alarmed by the length. I will continue to update it as I notice further relationships.)
The rhetoric over theory vs. practice in architecture is tired and worn out, and if you've ever worked in an office you don't need to be told the differences. But for my generation, there are some new wrinkles in this complicated - and often criticized - relationship that are starting to affect the discipline as a whole. In the traditional model of architectural education and practice, the conflict could be modeled simply as a push and pull between design (form, art, sculpture, independence) and reality (economy, gravity, dependence).
Design < > Reality
[Sant Elia - Futurist, but still with pen, paper, and straight edge. The forms are recognizable as buildings.]
Now I believe there is a third element to this conflict: technology. More specifically, computers and visualization software. For centuries, since the days when Brunelleschi doodled the famous structure of the dome, the methods of architectural representation remained relatively constant: drawing tool, straight edge, and paper. The use of such devices limited our ability to conceive of form beyond what was structurally possible or referential to some previous typology. Computers, on the other hand, have allowed our imaginative powers to far outrun our ability to practically create, because they not only translate what we think but also generate based on complicated sets of parameters or algorithms. As a result, a new style, or field of research (I don't really know what to call it) of "virtual architecture" has emerged, championed by the likes of Zaha Hadid / Patrik Schumacher, Roland Snooks and others, whose bearing on real architecture has yet to be fully explored or even explained clearly by those who profess it.
[Diaz Alonso - what in the world is this without context? How was it made?]
What all this leads to, at least with me since I feel like I'm not brilliant enough to decipher it all, is an incredible confusion as to what architecture - especially in this country - actually is and where I should focus myself in school. Should I look into parametric design simply because it's new and innovative, to broaden my horizons? Should I avoid it if I think it's irrelevant to my own interests? Should I even bother looking at history if the tools of the trade have evolved so much? These are questions I have to deal with even as I'm forced to struggle to catch up with learning new software (I've found out so far I'm very much behind). So now the conflicts in architecture look like this:
Sometimes it's all a bit too much to handle, I'll admit. Now with the conflicts mapped out, I'm going to start keeping a list of contradictions in architectural practice vs. education, the purpose of which is not to completely discount what I learn, but simply to refer it to my ultimate goal of becoming an architect who builds buildings. Sure it's been done before many times, but I think it's healthy for every student of architecture to develop his or her own. I'll start off with a few, feel free to add, contribute, suggest, refute, etc.
1. The Role of the Architect in the Realization of Projects
This one is obvious. In school, you are taught ways of making cities better one building or project at a time, as if you are the spontaneous generator of the need.
I was more excited about visiting Palm Springs than any other city on our tour because it contains the greatest concentration of mid-century modern buildings in the country. The town's development as an isolated resort community paralleled the growth of nearby metropolises Los Angeles and San Diego and provided architects with a playground to test new design and construction techniques. The rise of Hollywood in the 1930's attracted tourists and illustrious clients to the Coachella Valley, including Frank Sinatra and Elvis, and made life in Palm Springs a lucrative and fashionable venture. Revised zoning laws, meanwhile, along with the support and foresight of ambitious developers like the Alexander Construction Company, accommodated the rapid expansion in concordance with the influx of new residents. The result is a regional architectural vernacular that is uniquely American and at the same time, uniquely Californian, and which functions like a dynamic exhibit, where the city itself is a museum, and the buildings works of art. Visiting this place is like stepping into a decades-old lab experiment whose instigators have long since passed but whose tubes and cauldrons are still bubbling with purpose. It is tangible history that is not so foreign to our perception of everyday life that we're unable to understand it. Palm Springs is glamorous, beautiful, and I love it...if only it wasn't 115 degrees when I was there, I may have stayed.
Some of the architects who practiced in Palm Springs are some of the most well-known American modernists: RM Schindler, Richard Neutra, Albert Frey, E. Stewart Williams, Palmer & Krisel, John Lautner and more. I will be posting all my images on Flickr soon, but bear in mind that many of the most famous buildings are private residences and thus inaccessible. So you'll have to live with just a taste.
Also, check out this website dedicated to the preservation of Palm Springs Modern for more information.
[House, Albert Frey]
["House of Tomorrow" for Elvis Presley, Palmer + Krisel]
>Oklahoma City, Oklahoma Year Founded: 1889 Population: 560,000 (inc) 1,200,000 (metro) Claim to Fame: Oklahoma City Bombing of 1995
OKC's development is marked by 4 important events - the "Land Run" at the city's inception around 1890, discovery of oil within the city limits in 1928, the Pei Plan of 1964-1966, and the terrorist attack of 1995.
[Pei Plan, 1964. Rendering.]
The latter two events are contrasts in the how large-scale urban design is conceived, executed, and received by the public. The Pei Plan, which could be seen as an early prelude to post-modernism mixed with references to Corbusierian urbanism, intended to combat urban sprawl of the post-WWII era through the establishment of a superblock system with parking decks, indoor shopping arcades, pedestrian bridges, enclosed courtyards, etc. The scope of this project was immense and required the demolition of a large percentage of the existing core of the city.
Eventually, financial support for the project ran dry and construction stopped around 1980, leading many private developers to seek more inexpensive opportunities in malls outside the downtown district and leaving important historical buildings destroyed without much renewal to replace them. What remained are disparate remnants of an unfulfilled vision; streets blocked by office arcades which fail to offer any pedestrian incentive, and a lack of architectural character. I can understand why the project has been viewed in an increasingly negative light as time has passed. [Side note: IM Pei has had a pretty amazing influence on modernism/post-modernism in America, hasn't he? His work in OKC remains relatively unknown, but projects elsewhere are recognizable even in international circles. Fortunately, he's done enough good work to cover for his mistakes.]
The Oklahoma City bombing, however, universally mourned as a tragic day for the people of our nation, inspired some positive architectural and urban interventions, the most notable of which being a memorial on the former site of the destroyed Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. Designed by local firm Butzer Design Partnership, it not only offers a reminder of those who died in the attack, but also provides an open and contemplative green space in an otherwise uncompromising urban core. Its prominent location at the top of a ridge at the north end of the city also lends to an excellent view of the OKC skyline. The memorial is now one of the most popular downtown tourist destinations.
Check out the pics below, there are more in the Flickr gallery.
[Lots of Federal Bldgs in Downtown OKC. It is a seat for the region.]
[Wide medians, wacky overhead bridges and empty streets. Part of the plan?]
[OKC Memorial Reflecting Pool]
[OKC Memorial "Field of Chairs"]
[Postmod attacks the street...AIIIIEEEE!]
[Fascinating blocky building. Stage Center, 1970, by John M. Johansen]
[OKC suburbs at sunset. Silos and Elvis hamburgers, nothing better.]
New burger joint in Centennial Park, named for the futuristic architectural style of the '50s and '60s inspired by the Space Race, Atomic Age, and rise of automobile culture.
"Googie" refers to the eponymous wife of the owner of a distinctively-styled Los Angeles coffee shop designed by John Lautner in 1949. The use of swooping parabolic and hyperbolic roof canopies, oblique geometries, and bold signage distinguish the style from the more subdued "high" modernism practiced by architects like Neutra, Koenig, van der Rohe, etc. The style embraced commercialism and increasing pace of life in its iconography. Think Jetsons, the Stardust, 1964 New York World's Fair...
Architecture by ai3; not something you see everyday in Atlanta, and a little bit more exciting than other buildings around the park (albeit at a different scale). Unfortunately I didn't get to try the burgers ;)
Visual Acoustics tells the story of California Modernism through the eyes and camera of Julius Shulman (1910-2009), a man whose humility, kind temperament and infectious humor belie his standing as the preeminent American architectural photographer of the past century. His lens was the conduit through which many of this country’s most famous and brilliant designers became publicly known; Richard Neutra, Rudolf Schindler, Frank Lloyd Wright, Albert Frey and John Lautner all owe some measure of their professional success to the elegant way Shulman represented their work. His role as the anonymous herald of American Modernism, helping to foster an appreciation for the movement both domestically and abroad, is a fascinating subject for this whimsical but streamlined documentary from director Eric Bricker.
Historically, Julius Shulman’s opera completa successfully captures the essence of the pioneer spirit that drove disciples of Wright and Louis Sullivan from the Chicago area (Lautner, E. Stewart Williams) and students of the Bauhaus (Neutra, Schindler) from central Europe to Los Angeles in the early 1930s. At that time, Los Angeles was experiencing an unprecedented building boom, having grown from the 36th largest city in the US in 1900 to the 5th by 1930. Sprawling urban conditions and an unrefined surrounding natural landscape provided designers with an irresistibly clean slate on which they could test new designs and construction techniques. Los Angeles became a locus of creative expression. Much of the work that followed in the region featured a trademark exuberance that came to represent a new California-based architectural vernacular. Shulman translated this language into images; his most iconic, a night scene of Pierre Koenig’s Case Study House #22, combines the grace of modern architecture, the vitality of west coast living and the hopeful glow of progress exuded by the evolving American city into one frame. The house itself, now regarded as a masterpiece of domestic construction, became, as a result of Shulman’s photography, a symbolic representation of the goals of an entire age of architects and designers.
From a visual standpoint, the film seems to direct itself; Shulman has already provided the story in his photographs. What differentiates this film from other architectural documentaries, however, is its focus on the means by which public perception and interest in architecture is generated rather than the individual architect or building. The ideal experience of architecture, of course, occurs in situ, where in the presence of context we are able to understand the nuances of space and detail; unfortunately, by circumstances of economy, logistics, or geography, the opportunity for such an experience is as rare as the buildings we deem worthy of our attention. We rely accordingly on the literate, sensible eye of the traveling professional photographer to translate these characteristics and convey them in single images. Through his own interpretations, the photographer controls our response to the subject matter. Shulman—a staunch environmentalist and outspoken critic of Postmodern reactionaries—did so with his work.
Shulman was in the unique position by virtue of his craft of having some involvement with nearly every great work of American Modernism. While architects are isolated practitioners who devote themselves for years to one project in one place, Shulman with his many clients functioned as the sociocultural link between architects, developers, and tenants scattered across the country. He knew everyone and seemed to share a common language even when architects disagreed amongst themselves. He developed long-lasting personal friendships—particularly with Neutra, his early mentor, Schindler and Lautner—that transcended professional practice or esotericism. His life binds the entire history of American Modernism and the lives of the people involved into one neat package, providing the perfect human perspective for a film on the subject.
Lately I’ve had the good fortune of seeing two very disparate yet inspiring films rooted in architecture; first, Inception, which appeals to my as-yet-undeveloped creative futurist side, and this film, which reinforces my modernist romanticism. Each has strengthened the thrust of the pioneer spirit that is fueling my west coast odyssey. In short, I can’t wait to go! Sandy beaches, palm trees and Cali style here I come…
Notes
-During the few minutes of the film devoted to Shulman’s criticism of Postmodernism, two buildings in Atlanta (photographed by Shulman, naturally) were shown as examples of architecture he disliked…Can anyone guess what they are? Bonus points or other miscellaneous favors for the winner. You can find both of the buildings in my Flickr album….;)
-If you want to see originals prints of Shulman’s photographs, they are currently on display on at the Getty Center in Santa Monica, CA.
-Arts & Architecture Magazine was the venue where many of Shulman’s photos were first published, especially those featuring the Case Study Houses. This magazine was instrumental in spreading the work of Shulman and the architects he photographed, but its importance constitutes a whole set of posts on its own…so I’ll get to it later haha
I didn't know anything about the Lustron Corporation until I came across a featurette in the AJC about an Atlanta woman who owns and has installed some period decor in one of their 1940's pre-fab houses. From my own limited knowledge about the history of the type, this must have been one of the first mass-produced pre-fabricated homes in American history, manufactured from spare metal leftover from the war effort. The houses are very modern but modest, well-designed and easily disassembled and moved. The Wiki article above lists some of the various model configurations from which consumers had to choose, and goes into a bit of detail about the downfall of the company in the early 1950s, which occurred even during a period of great demand for affordable and efficient housing. Below is an image of the refurbished model in Atlanta; bottom is an audio clip from MOMA about the inventor of the Lustron, Carl Strandlund.
This is an exciting time for me, as I'm not only anticipating my impending move to Los Angeles, but also wrapping up my first realized self-directed design project at Southern Polytechnic State University in Marietta, GA. I have been involved in the interior design and provided all of the relevant interior architectural services for two dormitory buildings and a dining hall. Currently, we are in the process of installing furniture. The furnishings reflect the over-arching mid-century modernist theme, which is inspired by the architecture of the Marietta campus's 1961 core. The theme does not necessarily imply a referential design approach, but instead subtly guides proportion, directionality of surface, material choices, graphic patterns and artwork.
