It was only a thin
publication, but the name on the spine caught the eye – On
Weathering. The title seemed too good for the book to be slotted
in amongst all of the other recycled art books in this secondhand
bookshop. The shelf was full of the usual Great Masters, Cathedrals of Britain, and
the You too can be an Artist / How to Draw books
that seem to inevitably find their way together into the cliché
tatty rows of texts that have proven to be general failures – or
was it the owners that were unsuccessful? This little book looked
humiliated in this context. When removed and opened to be given the
attention it seemed to require, one discovered a further disgrace:
the leader page was doubly stamped CANCELLED in red around the title that
hovered on cloudy paper; and the following title page was chunkily
underscored with black, smudged stamp ink: ALBERT SHIRE LIBRARY
SERVICE. Clearly no one wanted this little study. It had been
discarded and had found its way into the world of Art for All and
Sundry.
Maison du People (1937-1939)
Jean Prouvé et.al., Clichy, France
A quick flick
through the book revealed many black and white, full-page
photographs. The images were interesting. The subject was intriguing.
The aging of buildings with time is a subject much neglected in
our era that concentrates on slick appearances boldly promoted as
the 'brand': the brand new, just finished, bold and glossy forms.
Time changes appearances, but few want to talk about this fact. Only
the present, and the next present, is of interest. Little wonder that
the study had been discarded by the library service. Who in the
Albert Shire, (now incorporated into the Gold Coast), or anywhere
would want to borrow this today?
Casa del Girasole (1947-1950)
Luigi Moretti, Rome, Italy
The book was
purchased and taken home to be perused and put aside for a time when
it could be read. Corbusier, Fuller, Gropius, Wagner and Scarpa were mentioned, along with
Alberti. The images were thumbed through. There were many different
buildings and details in this array collected to illustrate weathering.
It should be an interesting read: if not, the photographs alone were
worth having.
Sanatorium Zonnestraal (1926-1931)
J. Duiker, et.al., Hilversum, Netherlands
Like most things put
aside for tomorrow, they get neglected in favour of other interests
that demand time until discovered again months, perhaps years later.
This little book was no different. When moving a bookcase, this
publication appeared on top of one pile by the sheer cross-sectional
chance of grabbing manageable bundles of books to relocate. Now one
had time to read this small publication that had such an interesting
cover. On Weathering The Life of Buildings in Time was printed
over an image of what one assumed to be a nicely patterned soiled
facade. Looking at the rear page to discover what one was looking at
was unhelpful: Cover photograph by Charles H. Tashima. Mmmm;
why was there not more specific detail?
Palazzo Ducale (1340-1419)
Filippo Calendario, Venice, Italy
As one started to
read the book, a vague sense of a rambling spirit encompassed the
reader. Although the title was specific, the text seemed to start
wandering off into other subjects. This did not make for
uninteresting reading; but it did leave one perplexed, asking why the
subject had been treated in almost an offhanded manner. One soon
discovered that the photographs filling so much of the book, had
been left stranded, rarely being referenced in the text, and titled
formally only with subject, architect and location. It appeared that
the reader had to use some creativity in understanding why a
particular image had been chosen to be included. This felt
particularly odd, since the images were of such a number as to make
the publication look like a coffee table book: the photographs were
the book. Yet, apart from the front cover image, no photograph had
been given any accreditation. The front cover, the title page and the
copyright page only mentioned Mohsen Mostafavi and David
Leatherbarrow as the authors, no one else.
Le Corbusier's Villa Savoye before refurbishment.
Th authors get distracted by the issue of 'white'
Looking to the rear
of the book, on page 139 that was followed by two blank pages, one
found the Acknowledgements, all grandly titled with another
separate, full page. A feeling of self-consciously filling up space
arose. Was there a struggle to add more pages to match the number of
those with photographs? The 'Acknowledgements' text told: Most of
the photographs for this publication were especially commissioned. We
owe a great depth of gratitude to Charles Tashima for his meticulous
attention to detail and his passion and perseverance on a journey
that followed our imaginary grand tour. Why was Charles not
mentioned as one of the contributors? There are 75 photographs
including a couple of graphic images in this book of 120 pages, plus
notes and acknowledgements that boost the page count up to 139, with
two blanks not numbered. More than half of the book is made up of
photographs. Now it is not as though the text is crammed into the
pages. The typical page has twenty-five lines with large top and
bottom margins. The words are set out centrally in what is effectively a single
column of what could be a two-column page, leaving huge side margins
of blank space. The letters hang as a rectangle, a postcard in a self-conscious
void of white. Assuming about 12 worlds per line and allowing for the
blank pages, a quick calculation gives something like 12,000 words.
This equates to a couple of blogs. Yet the photographer gets no
recognition other than a mention on the rear cover, and with a
'thanks' on the last page of the book! Who are these authors?
Sant' Andrea (1472-1514)
Leon Battista Alberti, Mantua, Italy
The Acknowledgements
continues, telling that: The text was developed during a series of
visits to Cambridge and Philadelphia. The delights of these brief
meetings would not have been possible without the generous and giving
support of . . . etc. Were the authors a couple of pushy
students keen to get into smart print with their ad hoc research
developed from chats, as if it was important? The rear cover was checked. Gosh: Moshen
Mostafavi is Associate Professor of Architecture and Director of the
Master of Architecture 1 Programme at the Graduate School of Design,
Harvard University. David Leatherbarrow is Chairman of the Department
of Architecture and of the Program in Urban Design at the Graduate
School of Fine Arts, University of Pennsylvannia. Given these
credentials, one wondered why the book appeared so sloppy,
amateurish, almost careless. Was it rushed? Why was the time not
taken to explore weathering beyond a few 'brief meetings'? It is an
important subject. The text mentioned very little of the mechanics or
science of weathering, but the authors apparently had time and space to wander off into
issues that seemed to be the potential subjects of other studies,
like the modernist 'white' that sought moral and physical health; how
we know buildings through photographs (Mies's Barcelona Pavilion);
how Corb set up his internal images as still life photographs; how
sun screening had to be added to Corb's Salvation Army Refuge; how
Adolf Loos's white was different to Corb's; how the Loos interiors
were the antithesis of Corb's; etc. It was only with Scarpa's work
that it was mentioned specifically how the detail had been shaped to
manage the flow of water and hence the staining. That the photograph
of Otto Wagner's Anstaltskirche Heilig Leopold shows classic copper
staining gets no mention in the text even tough the subject is
raised, is astonishing; just as are all of the other obvious images
of weathering that are rarely cross referenced or explained. One is
left asking: What has one missed?
Page 41 What? Why? How? When?
These sundry
subjects seemed to be diversions that had little to do with
weathering. One was left trying to make a fit. It was not until page
41 that one discovered that the cover was an image of the facade of
Marcel Breuer's Die Bijenkorf Department Store (1955-1957) in
Rotterndam, Netherlands. There was no mention at all of what one was
looking at in either the text or the title, although it appeared
interesting. No material was mentioned; no explanation of what one
assumed was staining was given: there was nothing but the patterning
of the image for one to look at, even though this was the cover
identity. The photograph just sits in the book alone, waiting for one
to make guesses. The assumption is that the dirt is washed down from
the top to an ever-greater accumulation of grime as it carries the
particles to the lower panels of – what material; what detailing? It is susrprising
that this book has been published by such academics. What was The MIT
Press thinking? Was the publication edited, or did the material that
was supplied to the publisher by the authors just get printed? The
credits mention no graphic designer. Why would this acknowledgement
be important when the photographer was seen as almost an aside?
The publication
seems naive, somewhat indulgent. There are many images of old Italian
buildings, a mix of Renaissance, Baroque and Mannerist structures.
These are all very intriguing, and make it clear how Robert Venturi
developed his thesis in Complexity and Contradiction in
Architecture, but they seem to
be a part of something else too. Perhaps the clue is in the
Acknowledgements? - a journey that followed our imaginary
grand tour. What
does this mean? Is this book
truly interested in weathering, or merely the 'philosophy' of
weathering along with other accumulated
theoretical issues discussed
by curious, chatting academics?
This book has much of interest: the Alberti facade is stunning when
viewed as a whole, in part, and as a drawing. It establishes a debate
on joints, yet another possible separate
study – see:
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2012/06/architecture-as-joints.html
and highlights the
post-modernist's
delight in pieces and parts, assemblages, just as many of the other
dramatic images
do too.
Palazzo Rucellai (1446-1451)
Leon Battista Alberti, Florence, Italy
Change with time
These
visions
are delightful, but what
about weathering? Why is
the subject left as a series of suggestions when it could have been
much more rigorous? One is
left wondering if the brief meetings . . . during a series
of visits during which the
text was developed were just
natters
over a glass of wine or a cup of coffee. Did one author think that
the other was going to do all of the editing, leaving the text as a
rambling shambles of interesting things hovering around weathering?
Surely MIT Press might have done better than to
present what is such an
important study as a casual chat illustrated with a set of almost
unrelated, random photographs? This publication is a good example of why one
should never judge a book by its cover, or its graphics. Still, it is
worth perusing and pondering, for it does touch on many interesting
matters that will have to be developed
in depth by others. Is this the intent of the publication: to
stimulate students? The authors are, after all, educators, and
educators like to structure the world as a set of 'learning
experiences' for others. Maybe the book should have been called just
that: Learning Experiences Buildings and Time?
This title might have better described the content.
Weathering as added character
Weathering as a stain
On Weathering
can be summed up as briefly
presenting the case for
weathering to be seen as a staining, a deterioration in the
appearance, or as an additional, enriching
aesthetic quality. The
publication suggests that the specific design approach and detailing
will define how weathering has been perceived. Our era clearly sees
it as a staining that destroys the perfection of the image of
immediate completion: the empty, unused 'arty' building that gets
published for all to know: yet
another matter for separate study: see -
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2014/04/seeing-what-we-believe-idyllic-visions.html
If
we are to get a more comprehensive understanding of weathering, we need a more
rigorous, in-depth study than this simplistic
'essay,' as Alan J. Plattus, Associate Dean, School of Architecture,
Yale University has rightly
called it in his review on
the rear cover. One is left wondering if this book is the result of
the pressure on academics to publish. We need better than this
gathering
of meanderings
that is presented as a substantial study: Mohsen
Mostafavi and David Leatherbarrow On Weathering The Life
of Buildings in Time The MIT
Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1993. It may be old, but it is still
worth a look, if only to
stimulate
other more serious, committed research.
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