English
Architecture Now
Excerpt from the introduction of the book 'Architecture Now, Volume II', by Philip Jodidio
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Back to the Future
The forms of architecture as we know it are deeply inscribed in human nature and anatomy. From the first inhabited caves, the need for protection from the elements or from adversaries dictated the existence of a door or a roof. The columns of Greek temples and the arborescent splendor of the Gothic trace their roots to the forests of a time before civilization. And if the anatomical nature of architecture were not evident in a thousand other places, it would suffice to view the dome and outstretched "arms" of Saint Peter's in Rome to understand that what is built flows forth from what we are. Nor are such references to the body limited to ancient architecture. Clearly, towers are amongst the most explicitly anatomical architectural forms. With the essential tasks of protection long since mastered, the symbolic value of architecture, as an expression of power for example, continues to seek its legitimacy in the most basic facts of human existence.
Although modern economic and urban development has privileged increasingly ephemeral architecture, the Vitruvian virtue of "solidity" has remained another of the deeply rooted premises of the builder's art. "Flexibility" is praised in many designs, but rarely do architects imagine that their vaunted work should be able to change with time. That is, they didn't imagine such a possibility until quite recently. Certain American architects like Frank O. Gehry or Peter Eisenman have made well-publicized attempts to break out of the mold of traditional architectural forms. Gehry has assumed a large measure of artistic freedom, aided by sophisticated computer software originally intended for the design of fighter aircraft. Buildings such as his Guggenheim-Bilbao cannot be said to fit easily into the anatomical models of the past. And though this particular structure is clad in titanium, its very solidity seems to dissolve into a complex orchestration of non-Euclidean curves.
The virtue of solidity in architecture is surely related at its origin to the need for protection. Once that goal was achieved, durability, in both real and symbolic terms, could be construed as a victory over time. And though columns may evoke the form of a tree, and a dome a human skull, stone architecture seems more closely related to the geology of nature than its biological reality. Adaptability, sensitivity to the environment, growth and rapid change are the hallmarks of the living world. Might it be that a paradigm shift is occurring in architecture, with its ephemeral or ecologically oriented sides coming to the fore? The American architect Neil Denari asks, "What constitutes the architectural world system? It could be asked, when related to the biological model, if architecture must now always be an open and dynamic system, rejecting completely the near equilibrium of the static or closed system?
Page [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]
Page [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]
Back to the Future
The forms of architecture as we know it are deeply inscribed in human nature and anatomy. From the first inhabited caves, the need for protection from the elements or from adversaries dictated the existence of a door or a roof. The columns of Greek temples and the arborescent splendor of the Gothic trace their roots to the forests of a time before civilization. And if the anatomical nature of architecture were not evident in a thousand other places, it would suffice to view the dome and outstretched "arms" of Saint Peter's in Rome to understand that what is built flows forth from what we are. Nor are such references to the body limited to ancient architecture. Clearly, towers are amongst the most explicitly anatomical architectural forms. With the essential tasks of protection long since mastered, the symbolic value of architecture, as an expression of power for example, continues to seek its legitimacy in the most basic facts of human existence.
Although modern economic and urban development has privileged increasingly ephemeral architecture, the Vitruvian virtue of "solidity" has remained another of the deeply rooted premises of the builder's art. "Flexibility" is praised in many designs, but rarely do architects imagine that their vaunted work should be able to change with time. That is, they didn't imagine such a possibility until quite recently. Certain American architects like Frank O. Gehry or Peter Eisenman have made well-publicized attempts to break out of the mold of traditional architectural forms. Gehry has assumed a large measure of artistic freedom, aided by sophisticated computer software originally intended for the design of fighter aircraft. Buildings such as his Guggenheim-Bilbao cannot be said to fit easily into the anatomical models of the past. And though this particular structure is clad in titanium, its very solidity seems to dissolve into a complex orchestration of non-Euclidean curves.
The virtue of solidity in architecture is surely related at its origin to the need for protection. Once that goal was achieved, durability, in both real and symbolic terms, could be construed as a victory over time. And though columns may evoke the form of a tree, and a dome a human skull, stone architecture seems more closely related to the geology of nature than its biological reality. Adaptability, sensitivity to the environment, growth and rapid change are the hallmarks of the living world. Might it be that a paradigm shift is occurring in architecture, with its ephemeral or ecologically oriented sides coming to the fore? The American architect Neil Denari asks, "What constitutes the architectural world system? It could be asked, when related to the biological model, if architecture must now always be an open and dynamic system, rejecting completely the near equilibrium of the static or closed system?
Page [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]
Makoto Sei Watanabe, Japan: Iidabashi Subway Station (1999-2000)