The sign on the
metalworker’s shed declared boldly and clearly: You bring the
dreams, We’ll bring the How To. It seemed to define everything
that seems to be problematical with our era that appears happy to
build dreams without any ‘know how’ or substance: just for
appearances and ephemeral intentions; vague, ill-defined ambitions;
loose expressions of whatever.
It is a practice
that first appeared in the art world. Artists would make submissions
for various projects, and if they were given the opportunity to
complete their work, they would sublet the making of the ‘art’ to
companies that had been set up precisely for this purpose: to fabricate art for artists. These
firms could advertise using exactly the same words as the
metalworker. Indeed, it is possible that the metalworker might have
already been a fabricator for an artist: see –
https://www.uapcompany.com/;
http://www.artplusdesign.com.au/artist-fabrication-services/;
and http://www.thylacine.com.au/what-we-do/fabrication/
The system is that
the artist provides the sketch or model of the intended
completed work – the diagram – and the specialist firm completes it. This fragmentation, the separation of the
conceptualisation and the making, made the concept of the thinking
hand, the intellect of the body - see:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Juhani_Pallasmaa
- a droll ‘extra’ something, an irrelevance that could have no
input into any finer changes and development in the making. The dream
is forced out of its schematic stage by others with a commitment only
to its appearance, knowing little to nothing of its roots, its
beginnings, its possibilities. Art becomes a stage set. Herbert
Read’s book, The Origin of Forms in Art comes to mind.
Juhani Uolevi Pallasmaa
Sir Herbert Read
Louis Kahn
In architecture,
this division might appear to be a matter of course, with contractors
building the architect’s design: but there is a significant
difference. The architect envisages the concept and then develops it
to such an extent that it is detailed and described as an item,
specified precisely to be what was contemplated, how to construct it,
and from what, so that the outcome can be predicted. This procedure
engages the architect intimately in the process of understanding what
the design might be and become. Louis Kahn described is as “What it
wants to be.” It is a subtle process that involves detailed
development of the ‘dream.’ It is not just a matter of achieving
the identity of the sketch as might shrewdly be fabricated by a third party. There is
the thinking eye, the feeling hand, the sensing body, the probing
intellect involved in seeking out what Kandinsky described as the
‘inner necessity’ of the work – its integral reality. The
relationship between the object and its maker involves a quiet,
inner, vibrant resonance that is subtly revealed in the final work.
Consider Utzon and his Sydney Opera House, his struggles with form
and its making, and the final outcome. We can only be pleased that
the shells were completely resolved prior to his departure.
Kandinsky, untitled, 1921
This development
process could involve significant changes and other variations that a
remote maker might never become aware of or ever contemplate, having
been given the brief to make ‘this’ – whatever it might be.
What is neglected, not understood, is that the making is not merely a
neutral participation, some mechanical act or process; that it can have a significant impact on the
outcome; indeed, should have. This third party brings certain skills in manufacturing to
the task rather than involving reverie and revision, a searching that
is always checking for the clear reality of the work, its purity, its
rationale, its logic in being – the revelation. There is an
intimate involvement that can reveal new possibilities. Using the
Sydney Opera House as the example once more, one can see how Arup
worked cleverly and tirelessly to find a way to construct Utzon’s winning sketch submission. Many possibilities were explored, but none were
satisfactory, even though it was shown that the flat shells could be
constructed. It took Utzon to discover the solution of using shapes
from the one spherical surface, a notion that changed the form and
expression of the initial sketch, gave it a coherence that echoed in the
reasoning of its making, its ‘how to.’ His resolution never made
the engineers very happy – they had spent years in seeking out a
solution - but there are stories that tell the opposite story, where
an engineering solution drove the outcome. Apparently it was a real
struggle to design the entry stairs and platform as one single span.
Arup kept telling Utzon of the problems, and finally Utzon agreed
that intermediate columns could be used. By this stage Arup had worked out a way
to achieve the single span so fought against the columns to give us the
beautiful solution we see today.
The recent schism in
the art world does not allow the artist to bring and exercise a
simple skill in the work, or any sensitivity that can ‘talk’ to
the work and the maker/designer in the development process. The sense
of the ‘between’ becomes alive in this interaction. The process
could be spoken about as the poet seeking the poem, waiting for the
muse: see sidebar – ON ART & METHOD; THE MUSE – GETTING IT
RIGHT; THE AIM OF ART; HOW POETRY COMES TO ME. This separation is a
sad loss for art, but architecture is now more and more adopting the
‘build a dream’ idea, where it appears that the master/mistress
scribbles, and the team details an interpretation for the contractor
to erect.
Good work involves
an integrity, a wholeness that reverberates throughout. That sign on
the shed really defines our era – dream anything and we can build
it, leaving us with fabricated visions that have never been put
through a process of revision, rethinking, feeling, testing,
clarifying, discovery, . . . and more – precisely what art/design
needs to be about. This development work is as much a part of art and architecture as the primary ‘creative’ envisioning is. The inspired
sketch might be brilliant, but building diagrams does not make good
architecture, no matter how astonishing or ‘expressive’ the work
might appear. Art must address the facts if it is to endure. Build a
dream and, like dreams, the work might look interesting for a few
minutes, and then fade away as a fuzzy experiment. Our problem is
that we have the ability to construct almost anything: we need to
know what not to do.
A quick review of
the new work in architecture seems to suggest that we have many
sketches being pieced together by engineers with clever programmes.
One can be amazed, but what is being missed? Kahn spoke of
architecture as arising in the numinous, being transformed by the
facts, and then returning to the numinous. We forget that a thing of
beauty is only enhanced by the ‘facts.’ The idea of art as a
sensitive, feeling world too special for any analysis; too fragile in
its unique subtlety to be questioned; too ephemeral to be involved with raw, disturbing facts, is a modern vision that sees art as the ‘self-
expression’ of personal genius: MY vision. The traditional world
was clear that art is otherwise; that nothing could be beautiful
unless it conformed to the facts and the rules. History shows how
this substance still reverberates with us.
Have we been seduced
by the ‘art’ that is seen in a ‘modern’ expressive scribble, a pretty, interesting skin?
Has the ‘art market’ blinded us with huge figures? Do we believe
in our own ‘fashionable’ hype? Is this why we are getting
scribbles for buildings, built diagrams? A beauty rooted in reality
seems far more seductive than some mysterious scrawl that even the
artist knows nothing about. Try pulling a flower apart and be
astonished by what it is; study a leaf and its connection to the
branch.# Mies said that “God is in the detail.” We can try to
understand this in several ways, but in all of these interpretations,
the detail is important, the real world: the ‘how to.’ Our era is
being fudged.
Artists and
architects need to make a greater commitment to this ‘how to’ or
we will all be left as scribblers who know not what they do. The
implications for education are clear too. The ‘expressive’
written and spoken world today sees only meaning as being critical,
not the spelling, grammar, and punctuation. The critical matter is
the message. In architecture this has become ‘building the dream.’
The first step is to know what one is doing and not doing, and then
go and do it: design and build with awareness; with good spelling, grammar and punctuation. This
is one way to try to understand the process that is vague, emotional
and experiential, but critical. ‘How to’ is important, an
essential part of a design. Without it, one is left stranded in an
impossible ‘Brexit’ situation that only survives on basic
bullshit, something that our era seems to thrive on; see –
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2018/12/design-strategy-brexit-whims-wishful.html;
https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2017/may/22/post-truth-era-trump-brexit-lies-books;
and
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/feb/02/bullshit-not-lies-is-the-real-corrosive-influence-blighting-our-public-life
# Consider Louis
Sullivan’s: The function of the rose is the form of the rose;
the form of the rose is the function of the rose, and ponder the
power, the importance of ‘how to.’
Christopher Alexander The Nature of Order
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