"A house is a machine for living." (LeCorbusier)
In spite of it's stark brevity, the quote above, by arguably the most significant minimalist architect of the 20th century, speaks volumes. For many of us a house is just that; a machine composed of individual systems, working together, that exists only to provide comfort and shelter to humans. To see the manifestation of this attitude all one need do is drive through any one of the thousands of HUD subdivisions that were built across this country in the 1980's. What you will find is cul-de-sac after cul-de-sac of the same house and, while I agree that they are, indeed, machines for living, that's all that they are.
Typical HUD house |
Websters dictionary offers several definitions of the word Architecture but only two apply here:
- "The art of or science of building; specifically, the art or practice of designing and building structures and especially habitable ones"
I do not like this definition; it is too restrictive and, quite frankly, a cop out. This definition puts all of architecture into a neat little package, allowing us to dust off our hands and be done with the whole question.
Webster offers another definition:
- "Formation or construction resulting from or as if from conscious act"
Now, this is a very different viewpoint entirely. The first thing we notice is that the word "formation" has been thrown in there with the word "construction" and it is very important to understand the subtle difference between the two.
The word "construction" implies the physical effort of piling brick upon brick, nailing board to board and welding steel to steel. When we look at a skyscraper in downtown Manhattan or the pyramids at Giza we call it architecture because man "constructed" it from a "conscious act." Wow! Aren't we just the most clever animal on Earth? As if.
The ant hill is a perfect example of conscious construction found in nature. It is the result of many hours of work on the part of its tiny occupants and contains specialized areas within to accommodate the various activities essential to daily "ant" life. For some perspective, knowing that the average ant is 1/8 inch tall and assuming that this hill is 2 feet tall, in human scale this structure would stand 1,267 stories, or 2.4 miles. Though not built by human hands this ant hill is, without question, architecture.
But what of that other word: formation?
To my way of thinking, a formation is something which arises, more or less, randomly and without exterior influence; it simply happens. It is this idea that, by its own merit, exponentially expands the horizons of architecture. That is to say that if architecture is to be even partially defined as a "formation...resulting as if from conscious act," then it must be assumed that architecture can be entirely naturally occurring and without design. Again, man is excluded from the equation.
At left is the humble tree. Being perfectly asymmetrical, it is, in my opinion, architecture in its purest form. For centuries the tree has provided man not only immediate shelter from the elements but the raw material needed to construct his houses, barns and businesses. It has served as a jungle-gym for nearly every child and a quiet spot for lovers to meet and, perhaps, memorialize their affection for one another on its trunk. The tree has provided cover from enemy bullets as well as a rallying point for more than one army. All of these things the tree gives to mankind while also providing shelter to any other animal that cares to establish its home in its branches. Is this not architecture?
Consider the cave. Sure, it is just a passage cut through the Earth by water over the centuries, but it is also more than that. Most every cave is home to a very diverse ecosystem (bats, mosses, insects, reptiles) but is it architecture? The short answer is yes. Like the tree, a cave fits harmoniously into its environment. Both cave and surrounding environment are better off because of the other but you are probably overlooking the one unmistakable feature of this cave, in particular, that qualifies it as architecture; the path that has been beaten to it. Yes, this is indeed, architecture.
"What is architecture?"
I'm not sure that I can say what is and what is not architecture. It has proven to be a very vexing and elusive concept to reduce down to a handful of words and, honestly, I do not believe it possible to do so. I could write volumes upon volumes and, at the end, would be no closer to pinning down a definition than I am right now. But I am sure of a few key concepts:
1) All architecture affords shelter to something from something.
2) All good architecture "belongs" where it is.
3) All good architecture draws us in; when we see it we want to go there.
This post is hardly an exhaustive study but it is a good start. Subsequent posts will follow and perhaps I will get closer to answering this question.
My next post will explore my theory of happy house/sad house complete with examples from Frankfort.