WAF BOOK REVIEWS
Sigurd Lewerentz Architect of Death and Life
By Kieran Long, Johan Örn and Mikael Andersson
This is a magnificently produced book, from the French-fold dust jacket to the final memorable photograph of that remarkable architect, Sigurd Lewerentz. It is heavyweight in every sense, combining biography, critical essays, comprehensive examination of the architectural archive and, not least, an equally comprehensive photographic record of the extant buildings as they are today.
In this it is a marked contrast to another impressive publication about Lewerentz, produced by the Architectural Association and its indefatigable book-loving chairman, Alvin Boyarsky. Memorably, the dust jacket of the 1989 book comprised coarse sand-paper, a clever tribute to its subject, whose classical rigour was complemented by physical and emotional grit.
That was a squib rather than the oeuvre complete this new book represents. Inevitably its focus is on built form rather than the messiness of life which Lewerentz delightfully captures in some of the paintings and drawings which enliven the pages.
The 80 pages of photographs in the middle of the volume are a bit relentless, because there are no people in them, or indeed any evidence that any of the buildings are in use or have any independent life of their own. This is a niggle rather than a criticism.
WAFN will say more about this book when we are able to review the major exhibition which accompanies it (or perhaps it is the other way round), designed by Caruso St John. Meanwhile one can only congratulate the ArkDes director Kieran Long for bringing this project, both book and exhibition, into being.
Minding the City
Harrison Fraker, Peter Sjöström, Atanaska Foteva
Despite occasional affinities and sometimes an obvious need, the interaction between science and architecture has rarely occasioned a true meeting of minds. What is most interesting about Wren, one unquestionably great architect who was also a great scientist, is how he made the two disciplines interact rather than merge. Often the basis for the relationship stems from architects, uncertain in their own discipline, seeking ‘objective’ grounding for what they want to do anyway, dressed up as science. That led to the absurdity, in the 1960s, of the belief that ‘science’, or rather a misunderstood and misapplied version of it, would overcome all anomalies that architecture can create.
Not surprisingly, the art party made a strong comeback, at least until neuroscience started to make inroads into how we understand space. Neuroscience is still relatively new and in the process of defining what it can do. That it has some application to architecture is undeniable, as explored in a recent Architectural Design issue on Neuro Architecture, edited by Ian Ritchie. He designed UCL’s Sainsbury Wellcome Institute for Neuroscience, where the legendary John O’Keefe, winner of a Nobel Prize for his discovery of the role ‘place’ cells have in helping animals to navigate space, was the first director.
Neuroscience, as Minding the City shows, has a great advantage over previous scientific crutches for architecture, because humans and their perceptions are at the centre of its endeavours. In showing how the mind does not see the same distinction between subjective and objective that many western philosophers have, neuroscience shows how different parts of the brain process, in different ways, all sorts of varied information that reach it through all the senses, as well as from its own resources (such as memory).
In this characteristic, neuroscience comes close to the long-running theme in architectural theory, empathy, or to give it its German vulgate einfühlung. This sophisticated aesthetic concept, which in essence holds that we understand external objects by our ability to ‘empathise’ with the conditions they depict, was brought into architectural thinking, at least in the English speaking world, by Geoffrey Scott in The Architecture of Humanism (1914). It runs through phenomenological readings of architecture such as those proposed by Rasmussen and Norberg-Schulz.
All that rather belies the book’s contention that this strain of architectural thinking was ‘hidden in the discourse’. So, in short, we understand columns because they carry load, or walls because they enclose not just space but also ourselves. It remains a powerful way of thinking about architecture, and neuroscience purports to show why.
This is essential to the purpose of this book, which itself derives from a masters course in sustainable urban design run at Lund University in Sweden. Its core argument can be stated briefly. Cities are central to human existence, so solving their problems, especially their contribution to climate change, is one of the most urgent contemporary problems. Because ‘sustainability is not itself sustainable’, those solutions must also have an aesthetic component. But those aesthetic elements have to transcend the limitations of conventional architectural discourse, which privileges rationality and language over multi-sensory experience. Developments in neuroscience offer the key to understanding that, and to advancing possibilities for moving forward.
Inevitably such a bald summary begs many questions about how different disciplines interface and interact. The book does little to answer them, sweeping all before it with a Scandinavian self-confidence that holds what is self-evident – as many of the book’s propositions appear to be – must be right. This can also lead to banal statements of the obvious. By the same token, neuroscience may indeed hold all the answers to the dilemmas facing architecture and urban design, but it might also be the same ‘key to all mythologies’ that eluded the diligent if unfeeling Mr Casaubon in George Eliot’s Middlemarch.
The book’s slightly relentless pursuit of ‘meaning’ in architecture is perhaps where this shows up most obviously. Meaning is a loaded term which derives from linguistics. Of course architecture can have ‘meaning’ – especially in the sense of being programmatic or didactic – but not necessarily. Indeed this is the logical conclusion of the book’s main thesis: that architecture or urban spaces can induce a sense of well-being through multi-sensory means that are difficult or impossible to render in language. And that is their significance, which might be what the authors actually mean by ‘meaning’.
This is most grating in the eight case studies. I do not need neuroscientific analysis (though I may subconsciously perform it) to know why Scarpa’s sculpture court for the Venice Biennale, or dense mid-town Manhattan’s little oasis at Paley Park exude delight and intrigue, or why the dialogue between Foster’s Carré d’Art and the Roman Maison Carré in Nîmes is so powerfully resonant.
To perform such analysis is a bit like explaining the fugal structure of Beethoven’s Grosse Fuge or the final movement of his Opus 110 piano sonata, or those diagrams that claim to find the Fibonacci series in Rembrandt’s self portraits: a worthy subject of a master’s thesis but offering little in the way of insightful criticism. It might have been helpful, too, if the case studies had included some dysfunctional spaces. They must, according to the authors’ hypothesis, be dysfunctional for the same reasons that the ones they choose are not.
Of course this can be countered with the point that what the authors are seeking to do is to find a method for the future, rather than sticking with analysis of the existing. That is fine as far as it goes, especially as the thrust of their argument is that neuroscience offers a bridge between the functional priorities of addressing climate change and creating congenial cities. In this light, one of the most interesting parts of the book appears towards the end where four ‘sketch studies’ – theses from the Lund masters and the masters in urban design at UC Berkeley – are discussed. One which particularly struck me was a proposal to introduce an arcade and shading structure around Barcelona’s Place Real, to provide shade not just to people to but the buildings and ground surface to prevent too much build-up of heat in the fabric.
Another serious weakness also stems from the confidence in the overarching efficacy of neuroscience. This is not a case of personal view, a kind of ‘my einfühlung is better than your einfühlung’: it is the lack of any recognition of the economic conditions that shape cities and the economic relations that they engender. Almost all cities originate and exist at least in part to facilitate trade. In many, one thinks of Amsterdam but the same could be said of London, New York and Singapore, urban form is almost a diagram of trading activities. It is becoming increasingly obvious that solving climate change needs a manipulation of economic relations. I am not convinced that neuroscience offers much in this respect.
Nonetheless, the book has much to commend it. It offers a cogent argument for how to relate dealing with climate change to design quality. And it is attractively produced. So it is important, just not quite as important as it takes itself to be.
My Life as an Architect in Tokyo
By Kengo Kuma
Thames & Hudson
This is a little unexpected gem of a book, following a similar slim volume published in 2020 with a similar title, but in that case referring to 25 of Kengo Kuma’s buildings. This latest work, nicely produced by Thames and Hudson, includes a series of his buildings located in Tokyo, but also describes various areas and attributes of the city in mini-essays which precede descriptions of the projects, accompanied both by photos and beautiful hand-drawn pencil sketches.
The work of other architects is referenced, and there is a useful directory which completes the book, referencing all the buildings mentioned. So the book is part urban history and description of the many villages which make up Tokyo as a whole; part exploration of architectural history in condensed form; and part a record of the inspirations that have informed Kuma’s work in the city.
If you know Tokyo, you will be interested in the views expressed about the city and its architecture; if you don’t, then this would serve as an unusual introduction.
Napoli Super Modern
Edited by LAN Local Architecture Network, Benoit Jallon, Umberto Napolitano, and Le Laboratoire RAAR
This handsomely produced publication has 90 photographs and 140 informative consistent drawings of buildings that made Naples interesting between 1930 and 1960. But for anyone interested in the ideas which generated modernism in the city, assuming familiarity with its built form, it is a series of eight essays which will be most useful, providing insight and critical perspective which put the luscious photos and redrawn site plans, plans, sections and elevations in a broad context.
The choice of buildings partly speaks for itself: these are significant markers in the city: the fish market, the Post Office headquarters, stations, social housing and so on. But there are also some quieter building types – a villa, an apartment block, a mixed-use block.
Whatever problems the city may have, a book like this invites you to see its distinctive architectural life all over again.
Pedro & Ricky Come Again: Selected writing 1988 to 2020
By Jonathan Meades
In 1995 the Architects’ Journal held a centenary dinner in the very English St John’s Restaurant in Clerkenwell, taking over the entire premises for the evening, writes Paul Finch.
Appropriately enough there were about 100 people present (including waiters). The menu had been devised by Piers Gough, each course representing an architectural style discussed in the magazine’s pages over the previous century.
A jolly time was had by all, not least by author, critic and radical documentary-maker Jonathan Meades, a friend and guest on Gough’s table that evening. The highlight of the menu was whole suckling pig, one for each of the ten tables, brought in by the waiters in a French-style presentation line attracting applause from ab audience which had just struggled with spider crabs (representing neo-Gothic).
At some point during the evening, Meades removed his glasses and placed them over a pig’s head, just at the moment when the official photographer ran out of film (these were pre-digital days). A shame. I hope Jonathan won’t mind me saying that he was a hit of a porker himself in those days, which made the spectacles gag even funnier.
Since then, the Great Man has slimmed down to an extraordinary degree, but if he is a shadow of his former self physically, his intellect and wit have grown in stature. His films for the BBC about places, countries and architecture have more than justified payment of the annual licence fee; he is the only critic who has ever understood the graphic power of television -- and how to exploit it.
His crowd-funded book of course covers writing and occasional speeches, rather than his iconic films (for want of an entirely accurate word). The book is in inverse proportion to the slimline Jonathan: nearly 1,000 pages of mainly bite-size chunks, but nothing fast-food about this smorgasbord of observation, description, ridicule, satire (certainly not the same as humour) and a fabulous line in plain old-fashioned insult and rudeness – all in a good cause.
For example he notes the emergence early in this century of ‘minoritarian special pleaders’ who ‘sing the song of their single issue and the song of solidarity with the persecuted of all faiths, tastes and body shapes’. He describes what happens next: ‘An effect of this atomisation, which transforms every person into a one-person minority, is that every word written causes offence to someone.’ Meades should be the patron saint of columnists.
The book is arranged by a suitably large pantheon of subjects, many concerned with architecture, cities and place, but not necessarily. We get obituaries, essays on language, geography, sport. You don’t know what is going to turn up next – for example his respectful and insightful thoughts on Anthony Burgess. Only one architect gets a (short) chapter to himself: Richard Rogers, who receives bucketfuls of critical praise before some brickbats over the Knightsbridge flats for the mega-rich.
Essays all conclude with their date, though slightly annoyingly not where they were first published. This is a minor quibble, because this vast compendium has something to inform, amuse, shock or repulse on nearly every page. Dull it is not. And while Meades notes that the size of the publication means it is something for dipping into, I devoured huge chunks of it at single sittings.
What makes Meades so readable is first the quality of writing and the use of language, but add to that his extraordinary erudition, accompanied by an ability to make telling comparisons or entirely unexpected references, with a fearless critical eye, uninterested in received wisdom, the views of any politician or religious believer, or the cultural commissars of the sort who dismiss painting as ‘easel painting’.
There are two essays which on their own are worth, as it were, the price of admission. One is a breath-taking speech given at the annual dinner of the Royal Academy, skewering so many targets that kebabs should have been on the menu. The second was given to an audience on the South Bank, dealing with some of Meades’ favourite themes: concrete, World War II fortifications, the English love of twee rather than the sublime, and the canons of good taste he so despises. Masterly.
Most of the pieces in the book could be characterised as small projects, but their aggregation creates a very big project indeed. This is a wonderful successor to his Museums Without Walls. If there is a second edition (which there should be), and with respect to Meades’ Marseille residency, the dust jacket deserves a French fold.
The Architecture of Yemen and its reconstruction
By Salma Samar Damluji
This is a terrific piece of publishing production, from the luxurious French-fold dust jacket via 770 illustrations and properly scaled drawings to the double-sided end papers. One assumes that publisher Lawrence King sees this as a big seller, which it deserves to be, updating a 2007 publication of the same name by the same author.
For once, the publisher’s description is free of hyperbole and is a perfectly good description of what is on offer: ‘This was the first book to offer an in-depth investigation into the characteristic architecture of Yemen. This new, revised edition includes drawings, documentation and information on the building and reconstruction projects carried out from 2008 to 2014 at locations in Hadramut and Daw’an. Moving beyond the major cities, Salma Samar Damluji explores the architecture of regions that could be said to be the last strongholds of traditional Arab architecture. With a wealth of insights from both the master builders and homeowners, the book examines in detail building techniques and methods little known outside of Yemen.’
That such a handsome publication could be relate to a country currently riven by hideous conflict is a tribute to the power of the vernacular in terms of both design, construction, materials and building type. Alas, reconstruction is likely to be all-too common in Yemen in the decades to come; this record of what has been achieved in recent times will be an invaluable source of information, ideas and inspiration.
Edited by Cayetano Cardelus Vidal
Kindergarten Architecture, published while education is compromised by a global pandemic, is a timely book. It collates buildings for early-years education by 30 architects from across the world, from Vietnam to Virginia, and including examples from Japan, Europe and South America. It provides a reasonably broad tour d’horizon of contemporary trends in this important building type.
What emerges – and this makes it welcome as well as timely – is an optimistic and often joyous sense emanating from new buildings where young children should be able to enjoy learning in many senses. All were designed before the plague of Covid-19 struck, so they are there, ready and waiting, for the time when it is contained if not entirely eliminated.
Schools provide the contexy for many paedagogical approaches; one would need to be an expert in education to analyse how the designs stem from and serve each of them. The texts are not hugely helpful – they seem to be supplied by the architects themselves, with all the solipsism and self-promotion that might be expected. But they do not seriously detract from the main appeal of the book, that is to say its striking and varied imagery.
This helps the publication to transcend the limitations of being devoted to a single building type; it records a sliver of creative architectural thought at a particular moment. The examples are urban, suburban and rural, no doubt catering to both deprived and affluent communities, but they all seem to treat their charges as inquisitive and intelligent beings, whose senses and intellect can be stimulated by their environment. Collectively they show how architecture can enhance numerous varied contexts.
Almost any of the projects might suffice as examples, but to here are a few that caught this reader’s attention: Opus Architekten’s five-classroom kindergarten in the park of a former psychiatric institute in Marburg Germany, uses the sloping site partially to conceal its two-storey height, its bulk further broken up into a series of faceted forms and a series of roof pitches designed for solar panels. Misak Terzibasiyan of UArchitects uses the circular form of the School de Brug in Bocholt, Belgium, to create an intriguing central space where a generous flight of steps doubles as seating, while roof lights, light, colour and texture combines to create varied experiences, bound to activate inquisitiveness.
It is possible to discern some common characteristics in the work. Most of the buildings are low-rise and fairly long, making their roofs prominent and expressive features. Daylight is obviously at a premium and many use windows to frame views which help to distinguish learning from play space.
The book should satisfy architects’ curiosity about what their peers are doing din the same way that many of the examples will entertain and uplift the learning experience for young children.
By Bjarke Ingels Group (BIG)
This is a treasure trove of a book – a super-monograph which not only records the works and projects of a major global practice, but provides insights into the contexts and ideas which have informed their work and our existence. While the bulk of the handsomely produced publication is devoted to the buildings, the first and final sections attempt to define/delineate/characterise past, present and possible future histories of our world. The final three projects covered comprise a permanent station on the Moon; a sustained city on Mars; and a ‘holistic masterplan for our entire planet. Earth’.
You would be inclined to dismiss this as megalomaniac ravings, but the point about BIG is that they know about stuff, they have ideas, and they push them as far as they might be expected to go – and beyond. This publication is an act of architectural imagination in its own right, an optimistic polemic about possible futures far removed from the usual hand-wringing of doom-merchants as it is possible to imagine.
Despite the stylistic irritation of printing white out of black in not quite big enough type in those front and back sections, the content is a terrific survey of multiple aspects of global history, a concentrated version of what might have been (or become) illustrated presentations about what we need to know in order to decide where we go from here.
A line in the book notes that BIG/architects in general are not in the prediction business, but they do make propositions (bringing to mind the Cedric Price dictum, possibly borrowed from Reyner Banham), that architects write ‘the history of the immediate future’. BIG is staking a substantial claim to be doing just that with this extraordinary tome.
Daddy Wouldn’t Buy Me a Bauhaus
By Janet Abrams
Princeton Architectural Press
This is a fascinating series of snapshots of architects and designers, in the form of interviews, essays and obituaries by Janet Abrams, journalist, critic and artist. Mostly written in the 1980s and 90s, they already have a historical patina but are far from outdated.
Abrams has a distinctive writing style. She paints word-pictures of the circumstances of her interviews, so you feel you are in the room with her. She is critical but not aggressive, reflective rather than assertive and interested in mining her interviewees’ opinions rather than using the pieces to promote her own world-view.
In this she makes an interesting contrast with the journalism of the late Michael Sorkin, whose brilliant technique was based on very clear personal ideas about meaning, value and quality in architecture. His reviews of buildings and architects could be excoriating – very rarely based on interviews. His evisceration of Philip Johnson is legendary; Abrams’ own interview is more revealing about the style of the man, what he was like. A certain empathy with her subjects pays off.
Another reason the collection adds to the history of contemporary design is the subsequent narratives of the interviewee careers. I imagine the ‘disappointment’ Abrams experienced in seeing various OMA early buildings and projects, discussed with Rem Koolhaas in a semi-frosty exchange, might have turned to admiration as their work progressed.
It would be good to know, and an afterword in respect of her essays (short and medium length) would make equally fascinating reading. Maybe in a second edition. There are helpful notes about all the people written about, though few illustrations except in the introductory chapter.
Abrams has been a writing talent ever since her fledgling pieces in trade magazines in the early 80s: informed, witty (cf the book’s title) and balanced. A good example is her interview with Michael Bloomberg when he was big, but not the titan of today. His responses to her questions can now be read in conjunction with the story of the Bloomberg hq in the City of London, by Foster and Partners: his near-denial of the value of design then masked a latent realisation of its importance, which is why he commissioned a building with no budget other than what was required to achieved the desired result.
This book is enjoyable reading for anyone who has experienced the architectural scene since the 80s. It will also be useful to students – particularly those who might wish to pursue the difficult life of the commissioned writer. They will know the standards to which they should aspire.
The V & A Book of Colour in Design
Thames & Hudson
Beautifully designed and illustrated, as one would hope and expect, this is one of those books that is useful to professionals as a reminder of what is still a rather neglected subject in architecture, but would also make an excellent present for anyone with a coffee table.
The taxonomy adopted is simple and effective: after a scholarly introduction (which might have benefited from more images), 12 chapters each deal with a different ‘colour’, starting with White. There are extensive picture credits and a substantial index, as usual in a typeface only art editors can imagine is easily readable.
This is a niggle: the substance of the book is its essays, each containing commentary and insights which, at least for non-specialists, are informative and stimulating. Thoroughly recommended.
In praise of monographs
Architects rarely acknowledge monographic publications on the work of their peers. But like any other book form, they can be good, bad or indifferent, writes Paul Finch.
This thought occurred in the context of the imminent WAFVirtual event, starting on 30 November, because three of the major contributors have recently published monographs. Happily, all fall into the ‘good’ category.
Studio Gang Architecture (Phaidon, £42), has all that one might expect of an informative examination of the practice’s work; there is an intelligent introduction (by Mohsen Mostafavi), an essay by Jeanne Gang herself, and a series of grouped buildings and projects which are thematic rather than chronological.
This issue of theme versus sequence is one which all producers of monographs need to address. There is, of course, no right or wrong answer – other than not to think about it and reach the best conclusion depending on the purpose of the publication. This in itself is not a simply matter: is the aim to record work for posterity? To offer as a ‘thank you’ to past clients, and/or a calling card to potential new ones? Simply to celebrate collective effort and acknowledge the contribution of whole teams (in this example, full credits to the individuals who worked on the projects published)? All of the above?
Inevitably a monograph is promotional, in the same way as an exhibition. This does not mean it lacks the integrity of an ‘independent’ publication about the work of a particular practice; indeed the latter would certainly require the full co-operation of the practice for it to make sense, which may explain why monographs are largely the province of what, at worst , is described as ‘vanity publishing’. But without some financial arrangement, for example a pre-order, publishers could not afford to produce such monographs. By contrast, biographies, authorised or otherwise, are far more likely to make financial sense, more so if they are controversial (Mark Girouard on James Stirling, Bryan Appleyard on Richard Rogers, to cite two UK examples), and hence reviewed in mainstream media, not simply the specialist press.
Monographs are what they are. In the case of the Studio Gang publication, high production values inform the appearance of the book; the description of each featured design is sensible split in two: an introductory note explaining the thinking behind the project, then detailed captions for the images and drawings (always in smaller type, but that is what art editors seem universally to prefer). Apart from credits, the final piece in the book is an informative interview with Gang in which she elaborates on the practice’s work and ethos, not the least element of which is a profound interest in sustainability.
This subject is the main element in Building Green Futures (Forma, £66), produced by Mario Cucinella Architects, edited by Anna Mainoli. Cucinella’s own essay on Zero Energy Building sets out the scale of our future challenges: by 2060 we are likely to create an additional 230 billion square metres of buildings, more than 40 per cent of it in China. The raw statistics are presented in dramatic photographic images which contrast with the numerous shots of life in the office, which looks like a haven of calm and delight.
As is frequently the case with Italian publication, it is beautifully designed and produced. Generous space is devoted to both photography and drawings, and each project illustrated includes details of longitude and latitude and of the local climate.
The range and scale of projects is truly impressive – and is a fine example of how design based on environmental principles can nevertheless be visually arresting and beautifully detailed. Hair shirts not required. Jeanne Gang’s description of her office’s belief in ‘actionable idealism’ could easily be applied here. And there is a good interview with Cucinella conducted by Stefano Mancuso.
The third monograph from our V-WAF speakers is Adjaye edited by Peter Allison (Thames & Hudson, £60), covering the practice’s work from the early years (1995 to 2007) of almost certainly the best-known black architect in the world. The cover of another impressive piece of book design and production is the same colour, but like much of the architecture described within, has a subtle texturing and patterning. Like the other two books covered here, there is an independent essay (in this case by Pippo Ciorra), but the book is essentially what will be the first volume of an oeuvre complete, with good photography and some (not much) text. That is no doubt because David Adjaye is a prolific author, so if you want to know what he is thinking, rather than designing, there are plenty of other books by him to explore.
All three books are relatively expensive, architectural publishing being what it is: huge numbers of books need to be produced because the profit margin is small as a result of low sales, which is partly because of price. Hardback volumes produced to his level of quality will never come cheap, and they represent decent value. However, the key attribute of the monograph is the light it sheds on the working and thinking of the highlighted architect/practice; these books could reasonably be said to form part of the built and unbuilt work described. Any book produced for and by and architect’s office deserves its own job number.
Reconciling tradition with modernity is a complex matter
Architect Robert Adam, who will be speaking at the inaugural WAFVirtual, raises critical issues about memory and tradition in his latest book ‘Time for Architecture’, writes Paul Finch.
Because he is a Classical architect, and proud of it, Bob Adam has never been everyone’s cup of tea in the UK profession. The style wars of yesteryear are far from over, even in an age where pluralism is increasingly the norm. Ideas about what constitutes ‘contemporary’ design frequently exclude Classical buildings, even if they were designed this year. The very word now carries overtones beyond the strict dictionary definition.
However, throughout his career, Adam has connected with architects of a different stylistic persuasion over areas where common cause is to be had. For years, he campaigned with the Modernist former RIBA president, Michael Manser, for reform of planning laws which stood in the way of well-designed development.
As a member of the Commission for Architecture & the Built Environment design review panel, he showed admirable impartiality in his appraisal of designs which, while clearly not to his personal taste, were nevertheless capable of objective comment. Like all good reviewers, he could acknowledge design skill where it was evident.
His many contributions to public discussions on tradition and meaning in architecture have helped to inform ‘Time for Architecture’ (Cambridge Scholars Publishing), subtitled ‘On Modernity, Memory and Time in Architecture and Urban Design’. This looks like his last word on these subjects and is clearly the result of years of reading. Though he is not an academic, the book is heavily footnoted. It is not a picture book, but there are more than 100 black-and-white images and drawing, well chosen to illustrate the multiple points being made on a range of related subjects.
Time, change, modernity, custom, vernacular and memory come under the Adam spotlight, leading to some final comments on what is called the ‘paradox of tradition and modernity’: a paradox not least because Modernity with a capital ‘M’ of course now has its own traditions and history.
I would like to have heard a bit more about what Adam himself thinks on some aspects of the issues discussed, since many statements in the book are justified by reference to some other commentator/philosopher/academic. However, the authorial view is loud and clear on many issues, including the contradictions and intellectual dishonesty surrounding some elements of the world of conservation, tradition, and public protection. He is catholic in his choice of sources and is just as likely to cite Aldo Rossi in support of his thinking about collective memory, for example, as to more traditional architects.
In short, the book is a breath of fresh air, with occasional witty asides: there is a ‘Timeless Architecture Award’ given by the American Institute of Architects, ‘although only to members from Pittsburgh’. The opening chapter is excellent on the near-fraudulent claims made by some architects about their own work, and organizations who claim their awards are for timeless design. These claims are undermined by images of Michael Graves’ Denver Public Library (1990) and Toyo Ito’s Porta Fira hotel in Barcelona (2010), both said to be timeless, but both already looking distinctly dated.
By contrast, Adam cites a WAF award winner from 2017, Irving Smith Architects’ ‘Bach with two roofs’, which won the Villa category. Here, a work which is in the tradition of the Mies Barcelona pavilion of 1929, won an award ‘from important judges from the international architectural community, proof enough that this is a form, or an expression with which this community identifies’. He might have added that the pavilion really does look timeless.
There are other communities and other traditions, and the question Adam poses is which traditions architects and urban designers choose to express; his regret is that frequently there is so little alignment of overlapping traditions in the approach adopted.
This is a reflective book rather than an angry polemic, and all the better for that. For students as well as the qualified, the questions raised and arguments made are rewarding; where provocative, they are for constructive purpose.
The Architectural Model: Histories of the miniature and the prototype, the exemplar and the muse
By Matthew Mindrup
With 80 pages of footnotes and a comprehensive index, this is not a volume for the general reader; nor is it a chronological account of the subject, instead dividing into six chapters, each plucking examples from across history to accompany an academic text. While reasonably accessible, the text requires the reader to be interested in, for example, the distinction in the final chapter between models which are allegorical, analogical or anagogical.
But for anyone with an interest in the history of the architectural model, it is a treat.
Heavily and well-illustrated, it includes photographs of models which are no longer with us (for example Mies’s glass skyscraper project of 1922) as well as survivors past and present. The advantage of a non-chronological format is, not least, the unexpected juxtaposition of images and text in each chapter.
As with any expert with a near-obsession in a particular field, the author sees architectural production through the lens of his own interest, but his descriptions and (sometimes) claims for the importance of the model seem justified by the expertise he brings to the task.
On Intricacy: The work of John Meunier Architect
Edited by Patrick Lynch
This is an unusual book, and none the worse for it. Part life-story, part architectural history, part speculation and part critique, it is very nicely produced and beautifully illustrated. It also shows that self-authored essays about a living architect, but also by other architects influenced by their work (Patrick Lynch and Simon Henley) can make a refreshing change from the familiar monograph format.
Essay reviews of individual buildings are interspersed here with more general discussions about architecture and its contexts, crossing continents (as has Meunier himself in the UK and US), and covering his work as both architect and teacher.
Patrick Lynch, the book’s editor, describes it as being created with the architect, rather than it being simply about him or by him.
As far as the subject of intricacy is concerned, Meunier nails his colours to the ‘from a teaspoon to the city’ mast, with a single-page manifesto, derived from a career in architecture, which is as convincing as it is concise. As Lynch writes, it reflects ‘the hard-won wisdom of a practical life’.
Architecture in Dialogue: Aga Khan Award for Architecture
Edited by Andres Lepik
Hardback 38 Euros
This is the latest compendium of winners and shortlisted projects in what is almost certainly the most consistent and impressive global non-annual architectural awards programme. Now in its fifth decade, the awards have been consistently judged (technical visits by specialists who report to a final jury), are impressive in scope, scales, and geographic and cultural contexts.
While related to countries and regions with some form of Muslim community, the awards have never seemed parochial or narrowly-based; on the contrary they have celebrated the best ambitions of architects working to produce humane design, sometimes in conditions of great difficulty.
This volume includes all the projects visited as part of the judging programme, as well as the six winners, of the 2017-2019 ‘cycle’. The comprehensively illustrated publication is as thoughtful as the judging programme itself.
Survey of London Volume 53: Oxford Street
By Andrew Saint and Harriet Richardson, with Amy Spencer
This is a magnificent book at every level, writes Paul Finch. Distributed by Yale, it has been published for the Bartlett School of Architecture at UCL, which is now responsible for the Survey of London series. The actual publisher is the Paul Mellon Centre for Studies in British Art, and its exemplary track record can only be enhanced by the latest volume in the series.
While necessarily scholarly, with copious footnotes, references and an excellent index, it can be enjoyed at quite another level simply by admiring the 380 illustrations, ranging from sketches and postcards to intriguing historical images, early photography, and some useful new photography. Colour or black and white is used appropriately. There are also useful plans selectively deployed.
This is the first time that the Survey has taken a single street as its subject, rather than a local area, but the result fully justifies the decision – it is part of our mental map and could be argued to have been so since the 1770s. Comparative plans from 1870 and 2012 give a snapshot indication of how the street moved from Victorian variety and ebullience to the consolidated properties and larger building footprints that characterise the plan today, the first major example of this being the Selfridges department store.
Go to the relevant section and there you will find the full story of the development and its controversies, and what happened to the store over the next century. Diagonally opposite, the recent mega-block of Park House is illustrated and discussed, none too flatteringly. The point is that everything you might expect or need to find is covered, past present and the known future (buildings under construction), with one arguable omission, discussed later.
The organization of the material comprises 22 sections running west to east, from Tottenham Court Road to Park Lane, plus an appendix on pubs. Preceding all this is a mine of information and insight comprising the lengthy illustrated introduction (type size a bit small). Within each section, buildings, architects, occupiers and other relevant historical details are accompanied by illustrations chosen for their variety as well as their interest. You find potted histories of forgotten institutions, shops and companies dotted throughout.
Buildings we have lost are well covered, particularly the magnificent James Wyatt Pantheon (1772), which gets a section all to itself, recording the triumphs and vicissitudes of a distinctive feature not just of the street, but of London itself – its only memory being the Pantheon name attached to the branch of Marks & Spencer which now occupied the site. This section appeared in an earlier volume but the decision to re-use it is the right one. It is an amazing story, beautifully told. It is also a reminder of how conventional commerce supplants places of pleasure and performance: a contemporary example, discussed in the volume, is the redevelopment at the east end of the street which has resulted in the Astoria (first a cinema then a music venue) replaced with a small theatre as part of a wider commercial development, the theatre only included at the insistence of Westminster planners. Similarly, the demise of the Academy Cinema, once run by Basil Burton, father of the architect Richard Burton (co-founder of ABK), in favour of a rubbishy post-modern office building is told in detail.
Despite the roller-coaster of boom and bust for the retail sector in recent years, Oxford Street still has a vibrancy quite different to Regent Street, though it must be said the latter is several notches higher in terms of classy shopping. It has taken a long time for the street east of Oxford Circus to show signs of shedding its tatty image, but happening it is, partly because of the impending improvements that the Elizabeth Line underground station will generate as part of the already much improved Tottenham Court Road station, well covered.
This should allow us to think about the street, from west to east, as a successful whole, rather than its current condition as less than the sum of its parts. Which leads to two quibbles. The first is a minor one: there is a dismissive reference to the architect Bryan Avery’s 1980’s proposals for a complete rethink of transport and pedestrian separation for the street, because it was criticised by a Times columnist. It would have been more appropriate to have shown an illustration of his clever ideas, especially given that he was one of the few architects of the era to think about the street as a complete entity.
The second is the significant decision to omit Centre Point. I can see why, since it has been covered in an earlier volume. But, as with the Pantheon, it would have been worth revisiting on three grounds. First, the building is the visual and psychological end stop to Oxford Street at its eastern end, a relationship more powerful than the building’s Charing Cross Road address. Second, the history of its transformation from office to residential tower is fascinating (and now complete). And third, because the developer responsible for that transformation, Almacantar, is also the developer of the completing Marble Arch Place development (by Rafael Vinoly), at the west end of the street, which is referenced. These book ends both deserved to be noted.
That said, this is an exemplary record of arguably the most important street in London, part of the historic ceremonial route from Newgate (with its prison) to Tyburn (with its gallows), and of course the road leading to Oxford. Andrew Saint, who worked on the series in the 1970s and early l980s when it was published by the old Greater London Council, now the general editor, is to be congratulated. Erudition worn lightly complemented by an illustrative treat, the volume cannot be recommended too highly. You can find the book here.
Postmodern Architecture: Less is a Bore
By Owen Hopkins
With some 200 sometimes glorious colour plates, this compendium of ‘postmodern’ architecture is a visual treat – if you like a meal comprising desserts only. Amidst the multiple quotes accompanying the images, mostly explanatory or complimentary, a few acidic descriptions come as a relief to the saccharine sweetness of the visual content. Berthold Lubetkin, for example: ‘This is a transvestite architecture --Hepplewhite and Chippendale in drag.’ Missing is his even more pertinent observation, given at his Gold Medal address at the RIBA, where he compared postmodern architects to ‘ornamental pastry chefs’. He would have been appalled by this book.
However, the life, colour and inspiration displayed in its pages is the perfect rejoinder to those who insisted on the sort of joyless Modernism that eschewed the pitched roof as morally offensive, and which took the narrowest definition of function to create the sort of city urbanism which prompted the postmodern revolution. Owen Hopkins, who is about to leave his post as senior exhibition curator at the Soane Museum, staged an excellent 2018 show about British postmodernism, from which this book sprang (he has written a thoughtful introduction), though it is full of international examples too. The choice owes something to Charles Jencks’ claim that ‘we are all postmodernists now’.
For example, London readers might be surprised to see three prominent buildings in the capital being included in the postmodernist canon: Broadgate Circle by Arup Associates; the Queen Victoria Street offices by Foggo Associates; and Portcullis House, the Parliamentary offices opposite Big Ben, by Hopkins Architects. Really? And if they are, do they fall into that camp of buildings described by Richard Rogers (whose own vivid use of colour allowed CJ to claim him as one of Pomo’s own) in very blunt terms: ‘Postmodernism is the superficial aesthetic of shoddy commercial design obsessed with money and fashion’. Ouch.
Of course ‘postmodernism’ includes the good, the bad and the ridiculous, not least because it reasserted the role of art in the world of architecture. Michael Graves is cited: ‘I see architecture not as Gropius did, as a moral venture, as truth, but as invention, in the same way that poetry or music or painting is invention’ (see review below). The trouble with this is that the poet, composer or artist is not responsible for housing, schools, hospitals and the design of the city. Architects are, this being both mission and burden.
Robert ‘I am not a postmodernist’ Venturi understood this only too well, but could scarcely escape being pigeonholed in the same way as was Jim Stirling, the first postmodernist Gold Medallist. Being witty only added to the Pomo image: Sean Griffiths of FAT cites Venturi’s deadpan comment to the practice: ‘Keep up the bad work’. It might have served as a title for the book, but for the fact that much of what is shown is obviously the work of highly skilled architects.
Walter Gropius: visionary founder of the Bauhaus
By Fiona MacCarthy
Faber & Faber
Published in hardback last year, this is a most welcome more affordable publication which is also exceptionally good value: apart from the written content itself, there are multiple images, many of them in colour. This is exemplary publishing, providing a comprehensive index and a list of sources and references which will make it not just compulsory reading for anyone with an interest in 20th century architecture and design, but easy to use.
It is hard to praise either the research or the organisation of this book too highly. It engages with a gigantic cast of characters, spans a century of revolutions and wars, both physical and intellectual, and most of the world geographically. The three sections, Germany, England and America make sense as organizational device, even though Gropius travelled extensively outside each territory in the periods under review.
The range of buildings, from the Fagus factory to the PanAm tower in New York, is fully covered, extending even to the Playboy Club on London’s Park Lane (actually designed as a commercial building for the developer Jack Cotton).
But is the story of the founding and duration of the Bauhaus which forms the real core of the book. The history is extensive, particularly in respect of the personal relationships between the principal players, who were to affect each other for the rest of their lives. MacCarthy, who met Gropius once but knew well some of the people who were close to him, particularly in England, is the first biographer to have unravelled the messy story of the marriage to and subsequent break-up with Alma Mahler, a dispiritingly sad tale which largely contributed to the image of Gropius as a somewhat dour if not dismal character.
He was far from that especially in his early life, but had to live with the image given him by Tom Lehrer in his witty song about Alma. MacCarthy shows why this was wrong, not that Gropius particularly cared.
If you haven’t read this book, you need to: as the celebrations around the Bauhaus centenary last year made clear, its effects are still with us.
Australia Modern: Architecture, landscape and design 1925-1975
By Hannah Lewi and Philip Goad
Thames & Hudson
This is an essential guide to a key period in Australian and indeed international architecture and design which helpfully uses chronology to good effect. That is because it is applied to building and design types, rather than simply lumping everything together. This allows for good comparative analysis – and reminds us that there was an Australian architecture before, during and after the construction of what can only be a centrepiece: Sydney Opera House by the non-Australian Jorn Utzon. Very well-illustrated with both (fascinating) historical and contemporary images, this is a handsomely produced encyclopaedic volume which almost be definition will be timeless.
Vernacular Architecture: Atlas for living throughout the world
Edited by Christian Schittich
Hardback £61.96 (Amazon)
This book is a reminder in a world of super-glossy homages to Modernism that vernacular housing is alive and well, rooted in traditions which relate to basic requirements for shelter and habitation whatever the climate and whatever the culture. This by no means implies any lack of sophistication on the part of indigenous non-architects across the world; indeed, the further you look in this admirably illustrated compendium, the more admiration you feel for the way in which materials and construction techniques combine to create not just shelters, but homes. Editor Christian Schittich can be proud of his achievement in producing such a comprehensive volume, arranged by geography, New discoveries abound on almost every page.
Portfolio: Foster & Partners 1967 - 2017
Edited by Tom Wright with essays by Norman Foster and Peter Buchanan
Foster & Partners
Where to begin? For fans of Foster & Partners’ work – and there are many of them – this will be an indispensable volume even for owners of the many volumes of collected works previously published. What this publication does is to put, under one roof as it were, not just the buildings but ideas behind unbuilt projects, not all of them familiar. Competition entries, commissions that got away, industrial designs, speculative ideas and of course the built work provide a treasure trove of architectural history from the past 50 years. In that sense it is worth every penny, especially given the lavish illustrations. The concise essays are a useful introduction to content and the design evolution is fascinating.
That said, as is frequently the case with monographic publications, the decision to avoid meaningful captions, that is to say captions that tell you more than simply what you are looking at, is a matter for regret. The publication really comes to life when you suddenly come across a Foster sketch with a few words, explaining a line of design thinking which is as concise as it is informative.
After that, all is silence: you simply have to look and admire. One hopes that a second edition would provide captions explaining the thinking behind particular projects, the difficulties overcome in delivering the extraordinary range of building types, and the way ideas were taken forward into other projects. In other words, rather than relying on the brief introductory texts for each decade, you want to be able to read this publication as a picture book, garnering information on every page in addition to the labels.
As it is, the volume is less than the sum of its parts – even though the parts establish the Foster office as being the most important architectural practice of the past 50 years.
Sensing Place: What is the point of architecture?
By Philip Gumuchdjian
Philip Gumuchdjian is a talented architect who worked for 18 years with Richard Rogers before setting u p in practice on his own account 20 years ago. A good and fair critic, who did an excellent job as a three-year chair of the sometimes-fractious RIBA Awards Group, he has now put pen to paper to summarise the ideas behind an impressive group of buildings he has delivered both in the UK and further afield.
The nicely produced volume includes other elements such as exhibition design – for example his successful exhibit at the last Venice Biennale, proposing a sort of pilgrim’s cultural route through his family’s native land, Armenia.
This book is mainly concerned with relatively small projects, but also includes some big collaborations, for example with Shigeru Ban on the Centre Pompidou-Metz, and some big ideas, which appeared in ‘Cities for a small planet’, the publication he co-wrote with Rogers and which formed the basis of the Reith Lectures for the BBC in 1995.
What you get here is not big polemic, but a series of digestible thoughts and explanations and insights from a working architect with a wide range of experience and cultural background, a notable contributor to the idea of ‘civil architecture’ enshrined in the RIBA’s Royal Charter.
Material and Mind
By Christopher Bardt
This is an unusual and thoughtful examination of the relationship between what (and how) we think, and the material world, mediated, as the book’s introduction says, by language, image and making in fields of design, the arts, culture generally and science. It also includes a speculation about the relationship with the digital world which is transforming all our lives.
The author is a professor of architecture at Rhode Island School of design, so the book is academic in tone, with appropriate footnotes and indexing. But it is written in plain language, helped by 104 black and white illustrations (by definition colour would have been welcome for his subject). Those chosen are sometimes unexpected, for example showing clay modelling of automobile design at General Motors in the 1940s, or contrasting Roman mosaics with a pixelated portrait of Barack Obama.
It is difficult to convey the rich mix of ideas and questions Christopher Bardt raises in a short review such as this. Suffice to say that they are stimulating and provocative in a constructive way, prompted by neuro-scientific research on the nature of the mind.
To take one example: Bardt describes the ‘peculiar conviction that the imagination functions autonomously’ when it is involved in creative activity via language, pencil, building material and so on, and that media and method are secondary considerations. He quotes the 20th century US writer and philosopher William Gass: ‘things give rise to thoughts, thoughts do not give rise to things, except secondarily as plans for action’. I immediately thought of the architect and his/her relationship to genius loci.
Juhani Pallasmaa endorsed the book, describing it as ‘an erudite and enticing exploration into the intriguing realm between and matter’. Thinking architects should take a look.
The Theatre of Work
By Clive Wilkinson
Clive Wilkinson Architects specialise in workplace design and have delivered offices for clients including Disney, Google, Intuit and Microsoft. Now their principal, Clive Wilkinson has distilled the experiences of the practice, formed in Los Angeles in 1991, into his first book. This is part practice monograph, part history and part disquisition on the changing nature of what we no longer quite call the office. The monographic element, unusually, is really very interesting, recalling the questions raised in relation to working on specific projects for specific clients in what seems to be an honest account of the design process. It is also very nicely illustrated. There is passing amusement to be gained from scrutinising the juxtaposition of pull-out quotations, where nuggets from Walter Benjamin, Michel Foucault or Peter Drucker are immediately following by Clive Wilkinson observations, putting him in exalted company. There is also a curious proposition that as water is to fish, so is the city to humans – transparent. Actually the difference, as this book makes clear elsewhere, is that people are all too conscious about the nature of the space and volume we find ourselves in. Fish haven’t got the faintest.
Courtyard Living: Contemporary House of the Asia-Pacific
By Charmaine Chan
Thames & Hudson
As one would expect, this is a handsomely produced review of one-off homes across the Asia-Pac region, focussing on the ubiquitous courtyard condition that informs the title. The author’s introduction suggests that there might have been a more reflective book struggling to get out – she references the Schindler House and the Smithsons’ 1956 one-window townhouse – but confines herself mostly to description of the examples given. This is an upmarket pot-boiler where, as usual, photography trumps drawings. Only ground-floor plans are shown, even though many of the houses have what appear to be interesting sections, so an opportunity to think about the courtyard as volume, rather than simple space, has been missed. High production values did not extend to naming the location of each house referenced in the Contents section.
Millennials in Architecture: Generations, disruption and the legacy of a profession
By Darius Sollohub
University of Texas Press
This is a very interesting and timely study of inter-generational difference, the impact it is already having on the world of architecture this century, and what may result from changing attitudes to everything from ownership to climate change. This is an academic study, with the footnotes to prove it and sometimes the language – nomadicity is not a happy word, even if you intuit what it means. The author, an associate professor of architecture at the New Jersey Institute of technology, has a bit of a thing about nomads: ‘the habits of Millennial digital nomads have disrupted the academy far more than the profession because Millennials have been present in academia longer,’ he observes, before going on to speculate about what will happen to the profession as students gradually taking the lead within practice itself. This is an unusual combination of sociology, professional history and speculation about the future and the impact of new technologies. It is readable despite some clunky English.
By Peter Salter
This is a beautifully designed and published book about an architectural curiosity: Peter Salter’s clutch of houses for the developer Crispin Kelly (the former taught the latter at the Architectural Association) in west London. Originally intended as a commercial project, it has now become a sort of haven for creatives in search of short-term accommodation in congenial surroundings. A series of essays accompany the paintings, drawings and photographs which won the design a high commendation at world Architecture Festival in 2018. This is the story in the round – and in the best sense little is left to the imagination.
Climax City: Masterplanning and the Complexity of Urban Growth
By David Rudlin and Shruti Hemani
This is a thoughtful and sometimes powerful polemic about the nature of cities and the way they are ‘masterplanned’. The authors, both experienced urban designers and academics, take us through the history of city and neighbourhood-making, observing the exponential speed at which 21st century cities are being created. They argue that neither Dubai nor the green-exemplar Masdar offer a fundamental model for the way we should think about cities, preferring to regard masterplanning as the creation of trellises, with urban growth as a vine to be guided but not controlled or pre-determined in detail. Their conclusion about the best way forward, which is to promote the long-term role of a ‘master-developer’, responsible for masterplans, infrastructure and leasing/property strategy, may seem unremarkable, but the point is that the book demonstrates why they have reached this conclusion, and what the implications might be for future generations. Refreshingly free of stylistic prescription or proscription, the book is not about architecture. It is nevertheless a first-rate publication for students and professional architects interested in where and how urban design creates, for better or worse, the contexts in which architecture can emerge.
Dream City: Creation, Destruction and Reinvention in Downtown Detroit
By Conrad Kickert
‘Don’t forget the motor city . . .’ sang Martha and the Vandellas, when the Motown recording label was in its pomp. The demolition of Detroit’s Motown headquarter was symbolic of a city losing its way and which had, by the end of the 20th century, become a symbol of all that could go wrong in a post-industrial environment. And yet . . . the emerging revived downtown is an intriguing story of individual enterprise, civic and governmental absence, and a psychological resilience which suggests that there is a better future around the corner. This is a thorough academic study, with a chunky section of notes occupying almost one third of the volume. However, the prose style is readable and concise, and the research into the extraordinary history of this unique downtown area is entirely convincing, full as it is of driven characters intent on capturing parts of the city for their own aggrandisement, be it motor manufacture, parking lots or pizzas. This is the history and potential future of a very particular urban environment, but it has parallels and warnings for cities everywhere.
Model City Pyongyang
By Cristiano Bianchi and Kristina Drape
Thames & Hudson
Nicely produced an illustrated, there is a slight feeling of ‘The World’s Most Boring Motorway Stations’ about a model city intended to show off the aspirations and achievements of the hereditary regimes of North Korea post the Korean War, when the city was razed. The pastel colours have something to do with it, as does the relentless symmetry of grand spaces and buildings in strangely unpeopled photographs. Look closer, however, and you sometimes see what the regime’s architects are trying to get at, based on ideological tenets which make very clear that individualism is not required. Still, give a creative a pen and a budget and you never know what might happen; every so often a striking building (like the May Day Stadium) leaps off the page, in the same way that the city comes to life on the rare occasion when you see citizens apparently enjoying themselves. A few short essays are useful in providing background to the reasons for the architecture displayed, though they steer well clear of addressing the elephant in the room, that is to say the aggressive dictatorship of Kim Jong-Un and his stated nuclear ambitions which might, if he is not careful, result in the second general destruction of Pyongyang.
The Short Story of Architecture: A pocket guide to key styles, buildings, elements and materials
By Susie Hodge
Hardback £14.99 (publishing date end September)
A little bit large and heavy for a pocket, but this guide would fit handily into the shoulder bag of the lay-traveller. It would also make a decent present for a teenager showing interest in the subject. Compared to other pot-boilers on the history of architecture, its interest lies in the way it splits up styles from key buildings (which range from the Great Pyramid to the Elbphilharmonie) and the inclusion of brief sections on building elements (eg the balcony or the wall) and materials (timber etc). The glossary and index could have deployed easier-to-read type, but it is good that they are there. Overall verdict: refreshing.
Modernity and Durability
Perspectives for the Culture of Design
Vittorio Magnago Lampugnani
The boundaries between history and theory have never been entirely clear in architecture: Vittorio Magnago Lampugnani’s book Modernity and Durability Perspectives for the Culture of Design, elegantly and perceptively shows why this is the case. His central thesis is that design – across urban design, architecture, furniture and product design – is a craft rather than an art. As such it is subject to the discipline of tradition, a cumulative and collective process where innovation is only possible in small increments; the wisdom of ages (and accumulated knowledge and skill) shape any endeavour. These endeavours can contribute to the knowledge embedded in craft discipline, but not overthrow it. Every act of creation is, therefore, part of a historical continuum whose evolution can only be understood through historical investigation, and whose theoretical relevance lies in how it embeds knowledge derived over time.
In Lampugnani’s words, this potentially quite conservative argument becomes alive and challenging. Take, for example, one of his opening comments: ‘unlike in the era of Charles Baudelaire, the modern can no longer be what is fleeting and ephemeral, but primarily – perhaps exclusively – what is durable’. Almost all commentators on the ‘modern’ over the last century, from Benjamin to Berman, have stressed this elusiveness of ‘modernity’, if not modernism which has crystallised into a few outward signifiers. But Lampugnani’s challenge to this received wisdom is more solidly rooted: it is as an act of resistance to the plethora of meaningless images and the waste of resources that the modern world has brought about. The modern, in other words, can be turned into its own remedy.
But only through craft. ‘Let us look’ he writes, ‘at design as a patient, conscientious, accurate and competent work whose result will also be useful, right and fine, and in some very rare cases, a work of art’. In this light, design has to eschew novelty for its own sake and rely on its own traditions to produce something, a building, a piece of furniture or a product. The association with the accumulated skills and experience of a craft tradition gives design ‘solidity’ – a groundedness in both history, and also, through the concept of utility, with contemporary need.
This has several corollaries. One is that it characterises design as a phenomenon more akin to language or even culture itself, than as a succession of great monuments. The second comprises the implications of the relation with use, mentioned above.
Language, especially in the form of oral tradition, has many analogies with Lampugnani’s depiction of design-as-craft. It too represents the collective endeavour of numerous individual contributors, none of whom can control or alter it at will. And as such it can also embed important elements of knowledge which can be recovered for contemporary application. Similarly but more broadly, any form of cultural tradition includes certain persistent elements, whether ‘archetypal’ images or forms, phrases, beliefs or ideas. ‘Types are generalised solutions, solidified over time. They are produced not individually, but collectively over time’.
Solidity is an important concept for Lampugnani, the essence of how the modern can become what is durable rather than ephemeral. ‘Solidity is not simply an object’s resistance to wear and tear, but the adequate and substantiated representation to that resistance, and functionally not just the practical imperatives for which an object was devised and made but also of immaterial, emotive and intellectual needs that may even not have been envisaged in the actual design programme.’
Lampugnani argues the slow evolution of a craft tradition gradually refines its archetypes into ‘the invention and production of correct, appropriate and necessary objects’. These are assertive words to describe the results of design, But Lampugnani’s point is that only with experience accrued through time, rigorous and unsentimental testing and a ‘ruthlessly exact analysis of specific functional, productive, economic, sociological and ideological requirements’, can such contextual conditions be expressed in design. And once they have been fitted to form, and form fitted to them, why try to reinvent them? There are echoes here of Aldo Rossi and the persistence of form over function, where a space designed as a stadium proves a more than serviceable town square (Rome’s Piazza Navona) or the shape of an amphitheatre metamorphosises into a fine urban space (Lucca, or with reservations and far more etiolated, the Guildhall in London).
So how is all this modern? Lampugnani points out that the word’s etymology derives from ‘what is ours, now’. This licensed ‘the last century’s avant-garde’ to ‘break away sharply from the past and project itself, triumphantly, purified and renewed, into the present if not even into the future’. There is a Faustian spectre here, a theme much worked by Marlowe, Goethe, Busoni and Thomas Mann. The latter‘s Doctor Faustus is perhaps the most coruscating depiction of the implosion of European culture in the middle of the 20th century.
‘The culture of modern design has always been married to the utopias of its time’, writes Lampugnani’, adding ‘all such marriages have failed… the great utopias are also falling apart’. This echoes of Mann of Faustus, but almost in parallel, he also wrote Lotte in Weimar, a far tenderer mediation on German culture. And so Lampugnani also offers a chance of redemption. ‘I should like to be able to think that a few of those hastily discarded utopias, albeit modified against the backdrop of recent history, are actually still tenable’. But this redemption depends not on Margarethe’s prayers [Gretchen am Spinrad] or a charismatic leader, ‘Not a borrowed utopia … but a utopia genuinely its own and generated within it’. There is hope but only if we pick it up ourselves.
The book consists of a series of short, linked essays grouped into thematic chapters, ‘Design and its facets’, ‘Good Qualities’, ‘Contemporary Differentiations’ and ‘the Shadow of Modernity’. While reading its sometimes dense text the qualities of the book itself start to become evident. It is beautifully designed and produced, printed on high quality paper with wide margins into the gutter for physical ease of reading. The texts are elegantly written, if in parts quite challenging. Lampugnani credits Lupe Bezzina with the design, Kyung Hun Oh with the preparation of the English text (much of which was published in German or Italian first) and Philip Meuser with the overall production.
It is in other words a craft production itself, which becomes even more explicit with the illustrations which are dispersed throughout the book. Each is a frontispiece from a 17th or 18th century treatise on architecture, which recalls the tradition, originating in the Renaissance, of making books on architecture. Here the medium really does reinforce the message.
Building on Tradition: The new architectural language of Qatar
Produced by John McAslan & Partners for Msheireb Properties
What might simply have been a vanity publishing project for a Qatari property developer has turned out to be far more interesting. It tells the story of the Msheireb development in downtown Doha, where a roll call of international architects, mainly British and American, have designed a contemporary city quarter with many of the attributes of the best Islamic architecture. Concisely written by Ruth Slavid, the amply-illustrated text outlines the seven principles which informed the work of all the architects engaged in the project, an implicit critique of the sort of International Style modernism which invaded the Arab world in the 1970s. It doesn’t have to be like that.
Thames & Hudson
The ongoing interest in, and love of, white houses is explored by monograph specialist Philip Jodidio in a handsomely illustrated book featuring the work of contemporary architects across the world. Each featured house, it is claimed, ‘employs the apparent simplicity of white to reflect light and accent materiality, pressing the frontiers to form (sic) to the point of abstraction’. It is also claimed that the white house ‘celebrates a universal form for all people and lifestyles’. This is clearly drivel, but there are plenty of houses to admire here. But don’t expect photographs showing how the colour white can change and degrade. It’s all perfect.
Brave new worlds
The New Arab Urban: Gulf cities of wealth, ambition and distress
Edited by Harvey Molotch and Davide Ponzini
New York University Press
Gulf cities and their architecture are frequently objects of criticism and sometimes ridicule. This book, a collection of heavily footnoted essays by academics with a wide range of relevant expertise, takes a Venturi-esque attitude to them: like Las Vegas, to study and understand them implies neither ridicule, nor celebration. The cities under review are all part of the ‘Arabian Peninsula’, but are not a comprehensive list, focused more on the most ‘controversial and dynamic’, most notably Dubai and Abu Dhabi.
So very little on Oman (where tall towers are not allowed) or the Msheireb project in downtown Doha, where show-off design is subjugated to a demand for high-quality urbanism; this is not unreasonable, since these conditions are the exception rather than the rule – more’s the pity, one can’t help thinking.
The editors (both also contribute essays) have complementary backgrounds: Molotch a professor of sociology at New York University, Ponzine an associate professor planning at Politecnico di Milano. Their invited contributors have expertise in respect o, architecture, economics, planning, politics, Middle East culture, oil, geography and photography. In respect of the latter, Michele Nastase (who co-wrote a book with Ponzine on ‘starchitecture’ across the region) contributes a well-judged piece on architecture as spectacle, a strand that runs through much of this volume.
In a telling phrase, the editors describe the condition of many gulf cities as being ‘mired in the present’, rather than the past. The point is that the collection of new-ish countries under review do not have the patina of history which has informed innovation: instead, it is the here and now, imported in large doses, which has created the sometimes sensational but more frequently banal world of towers and shopping malls which expats and tourists seem to find so compelling.
In this world, with some exceptions, immigration is not a first-world problem, but a developing world condition in which the indigenous population is a tiny minority. Guest-workers may be badly paid by European or American standards, but the reason they go to Dubai is because conditions in their native countries are so much worse. Western media interest in Gulf conditions is partly because of the presence of Western ‘brands’ in all those shopping malls: the contrast between luxury and poverty is too striking to ignore.
As are the architectural extremes represented by Burj Khalifa and the Louvre Abu Dhabi, often held up as examples of unnecessary extravagance, vanity projects on a gigantic scale. To which one can only respond that experimentation and innovation are surely worth pursuing, not least because we can learn from both success and failure in the near-laboratory conditions from which these projects (including Masdar, the low-carbon city) emerge. In fact we may have to learn, because the new urbanisms emerging from these experiments are taking root beyond the boundaries of the Gulf, informing thinking across the Islamic world and further afield. The editors conclude the book, as they begin it, with a nod to Venturi, and his comment that we have ‘an obligation to the difficult whole’. Paul Finch
Design Champion: The Twentieth Century Royal Fine Art Commission 1924-1999
By Robert Bargery
Royal Fine Art Commission Trust
Paperback available via Amazon
The Royal Fine Art Commission was a peculiarly British institution. Founded by Prince Albert to advise on the installation of artworks in the Palace of Westminster, rebuilt following the fire of 1834, it foundered after his death in 1861. It was revived in 1924 to advise government on architectural matters and operated until the end of the century. In 1987 its chairman, Lord St John of Fawsley, created the charitable trust which survived the demise of the RFAC, and continues to fly the flag for high standards of design in public life. This well illustrated story is a fascinating slice of architectural and political history, written by the Trust’s executive director, Robert Bargery. He worked at the RFAC and briefly for its successor body, the Commission for Architecture & the Built Environment (which only lasted 15 years as a government adviser). This is essential reading for anyone interested in the relationship between architecture and public policy in Britain.
Aesthetics Equals Politics: New discourses across art, architecture and philosophy
Edited by Mark Foster Gage
What exactly are ‘aesthetics’? The challenge of this book of essays, edited by the assistant dean at Yale School of Architecture, is a challenge to cultural theorists, artists and architects in the 20th century who distrust representation except as a veil for underlying power structures, only evident to the very clever. By contrast, this book suggests a new way of thinking about aesthetics as relating to the sensibilities of individuals and communities. They believe this could represent a ‘turn’ in philosophical thinking which would affect multiple disciplines. If accelerationalism, afro-futurism, object-oriented ontology and xeno-feminism are your sort of thing, look no further. As ever, the arguments are essentially made in words, and as usual with academics, plain English it ain’t.
Evolution. The work of Grimshaw Architects: Volume 4, 2000 - 2010
Edited by Rebecca Roke
The latest volume in the Grimshaw oeuvre complete, covering the first decade of the 21st century, coincides with the awarding of the RIBA Gold Medal to founder Sir Nicholas Grimshaw and his retirement as head of the practice. Volume 5 is promised by the end of the year, suggesting a period of intense reflection about the past and future of a significant global office. The 20 buildings featured in volume 4 cover a range of buildings types and geographies; they include the triumphant Eden Centre biodiversity celebration in Cornwall, which should surely have won the Stirling Prize, the Zurich Airport project, and significant railway stations in Amsterdam and Melbourne. Other overseas work 9ncludes an exhibition hall in Frankfurt, a science centre in St Louis, a headquarters complex in Duisberg and a museum in Monterrey, in addition to numerous buildings in the UK. The quality of photography and drawings is exactly what you would expect; the only drawback is the usual inevitable chronological arrangement of material in this sort of work. There was undoubtedly an evolution of ideas as well as commissions.
Tower Bridge. History, Engineering, Design
Thames & Hudson/Tower Bridge
Celebrating the 125th anniversary of the bridge this June, this timely study by the always reliable Kenneth Powell includes previously unpublished original working drawings and construction photography, amidst a wealth of visual material (212 illustrations) which would make this book a suitable present for anyone with an interest in the bridge, professional or lay. The history of the site prior to construction of the bridge, to designs by Sir Horace Jones and Sir John Wolfe Barry, is covered, though it would have been good to have read more about Joseph Bazalgette’s proposals for a bridge, and the attempt by the Metropolitan Board of Works to take control, only to be rebuffed by the eventual client, the City Corporation. This should not detract from the quality of what is offered, including as an appendix useful dimensional information and a reading list. Anyone with an interest in Victorian London will want a copy.
The Buildings of England: Hertfordshire
James Bentley, Nikolaus Pevsner and Bridget Cherry
Yale University Press, London
Pevsner’s original guide was published in 1962 and updated by Bridget Cherry in 1977. However, in addition to revisions and corrections, the latest edition has been expanded to twice the original length, including hundreds of buildings for the first time, across a wide range of types. The author/reviser is Dr James Bentley, who can now be considered a Pevsner veteran having completed revised guides to Essex (2007) and Suffolk (two volumes, 2015). With about 200 illustrations, ‘Hertfordshire’ will be an essential purchase for anyone with a serious interest in the county and its architecture.
Gordon Matta-Clark: Physical Poetics
University of California Press
Hardcover $45, £35
This is a dense and detailed study of a legendary figure on the cusp of art and architecture, who died aged 35 in 1978. Matta-Clark studied architecture at Cornell, but devoted himself to what Frances Richard terms ‘anarchitecture’, a series of largely site-specific interventions that violently but hauntingly chopped and cut pieces out of buildings to create new and unexpected spaces and forms. Matta-Clark spoke of creating ‘confusion from a clear sense of purpose’: Richard untangles many of the strands of this complex figure, going into how he devised, executed and recorded his works. In the process his contribution to the semiotics, poetics and politics of the physical environment emerges, which satisfying shows how he challenged to all-too-easy conventions of architecture.
Architects’ Sketchbooks – The Creative Process
Thames & Hudson
This book promises to be a bargain with over 900 illustrations by 60 architects covering a wide demographic and geographic range – especially as it also claims to provide ‘true insight into architects’ creative processes’. A bargain it certainly is, but the claim to true insight can only be admitted with reservations. Architectural creativity is not limited to drawing: it is also about detail, construction and verbal discussion. To understand how drawings fit into that would be a real achievement. Instead this book reinforces the point that Banham made, that drawing is the way of socializing architects into the profession – and far from the only way of designing buildings. Readers may feel themselves left with the rather narrow impression that architects draw in all sorts of ways, with varying degrees of affinity – and lacking images of the buildings which supposedly emerge from these drawings, almost no way of assessing their creative potential.
New Chinese Architecture
Twenty Women Building the Future
Austin Williams (Foreword by Zhang Xin)
Thames & Hudson
In 1949 China had 120 cities: now it has 684 with another 240 to be added within ten years. This statistic tells a familiar story but Austin Williams offers an important and fascinating insight into it. Selecting 20 ‘newly emerging young female talents – together with a couple of grandes dames’ he shows how the complex history of gender relations intersects with economic growth. Under communism everyone was expected to work almost always in manual work, with little distinction for capitalist gender roles. Amid the repression some talented and determined women found ways to acquire an education and opportunities that arguably a less oppressive regime could not have provided. Williams’ informative texts depict individual experiences within this maelstrom, and illustrate architecture which if not always of the highest quality shows the range and sheer difficulty of building in so complex a society. This book may finger stars of the future, but it also opens a way into thinking about the overwhelming architectural challenge of our time: how to urbanise and raise living standards for billions of people, and how some woman are successfully engaging with it.