Does David Bowie's song rhythmically echo the theme, the general ambition of the era: "You can be heroes, just for one day"?
It was while perusing two articles on Glenn Murcutt that treated him as a uniquely creative architect who has been applauded with copious awards, that the thought arose: modernism creates giants, singular identities who stand alone as 'heroes of our time':
https://assemblepapers.com.au/2019/11/14/glenn-murcutt-touching-the-earth-lightly/
and
https://www.architectureanddesign.com.au/people/australian-architect-glenn-murcutt-houses-architec
Murcutt is ideal for this representation of the solitary genius architect as he runs a solo practice, already alone, with a fashionable popularity that reportedly has folk lining up, waiting years for the master to have time to give to their projects that seem to have flexible budgets to allow the wizard to be freely creative. Calling Murcutt a 'master' might seem a little over the top in egalitarian Australia, but he himself runs what are called 'master classes' for architects, young and old. His own comment on the ‘blowout’ of the budget for the mosque in outer Melbourne suggests that he sees himself as the hero he is promoted as. His comment used words that suggested that it would be worth every extra penny, well millions of dollars, to get “a great work of art” that would last out the years - (the typo 'tears' seems just as appropriate a statement): see - https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2017/01/murcutts-mosque-meanings-sources.html
Murcutt's publicity machine seems to be working well, for an exhibition that included drawings, models, photographs of, and a commentary on this, at the time, unfinished project – the Australian Islamic Centre at Newport - declared the project, well, the mosque, to be the great masterpiece that Murcutt said it would be, even though this new mosque is not without its own inherent issues that need to be discussed and debated rather than ignored under a shroud of anticipated, uncritical delight that defines the way to see and experience the place: see - https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2014/04/seeing-what-we-believe-idyllic-visions.html
The architect 'star,' the 'starchitect,' is presented just like any other ‘star,’ standing alone, idealised; heroic.* The closest parallel is the rock star, highlighted on the stage, screaming and bouncing around unusually for the admiration of the crowds at events that are withdrawn from the everyday with their own hyped, dramatic contexts that enhance the uniqueness of the performance and the performer in front of crowds of 'fans' who hysterically egg each other on as they complete the special scenario they create. Even as part of a band, the small group of ‘other’ individuals critical to the success of the performance, the lead singer is the 'front' person who stands out as the core identity of the group: its icon. Queen's astonishing performance at the 1985 Live Aid concert is a good example of the singularity of this presence. It is the same hagiographical position that architects are placed in, even when the office is large: consider Zaha Hadid's office that has all the work labelled with her name, even after her passing: see - https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2021/04/hadid-in-new-york.html David Bowie, standing singing in the spotlight with his backing musicians behind in the shadows, in front of tens of thousands of cheering admirers, offers yet another example as an analogy.
Perusing the illustrations of Murcutt's work singles out a similar issue with his projects: they, like the individual rock star, are all isolated, standing alone in their own, individual, exhibitionist glory, as heroic 'master'pieces. Can Modernism only survive in this self-indulgent world of hyped singularity; insularity? The way that the camera statically isolates projects, (it does not 'follow us in slo-mo' Graceland-style here), framing a special way of seeing, has been raised previously – see: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2019/11/architectural-seeing.html The glorification of Murcutt's work, and Murcutt himself, is an excellent example of this selective viewing and understanding in this profession that presents selected works as 'high art' architecture designed by a mystically creative genius. Making a 'starchitect' out of Murcutt establishes the role for his performances and his work; it frames an expectation, with the mind ready for an 'occasion,' as the camera cleverly isolates and captures glimpses of his projects that are published in full gloss with his embellishing texts, full of persuasively poetic catchphrases like 'Touch the ground lightly' - as if they actually do or might, even if they stand on concrete tanks.
The words immediately sound unquestionably right and attractive, realistic rather than whimsical metaphors, in a way that ensures and enhances the special photographic way of viewing, of knowing. Other words like ‘the Australian bush character,' 'local materials' and 'response to climate,' do describe what one sees in one way, suggestively enhancing the desirable aspects of the idea, the nostalgic regionalism, while ignoring the rich, ad hoc careless, but happy contentment of the bushie's trade: "She'll be right, mate" - that marvellous, casual making of a knowing, rustic, practical 'mess' with a charming naivety: see - https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2013/11/bond-downpipes.html The circumstance has something suggestive in it, like Philip Drew's comment in his book on Murcutt, Leaves of Iron, (really steel), subtitled with the boastful: Glenn Murcutt, Pioneer of an Australian Architectural Form, published in 1985 by Harper Collins - a title that unapologetically claims the poetic richness of Frost's beautiful Leaves of Grass, and sets the magical scene for the reader to experience the ‘poetic’ ideas of a genius 'pioneer of form.' Herbert Read's book, The Origins of Form in Art comes to mind (Thames & Hudson, London, 1965). In his book, Drew records that Murcutt was raised by a black nanny in New Guinea, and includes a photo of a young child in a tub with the local lass beside, as if this experience might have had a critical impact on Murcutt's understanding of things regional and ‘native.’
The proposition is that one needs to ask more questions about matters instead of indulging in safe, enjoyable hagiography. It is very easy to be persuaded by this marketing language that really needs to be reviewed and analysed rationally if one is to avoid being blindly swept along in a hopeful world of superfluous wonder and idealism. One is encouraged to see Murcutt and his work as special, bespoke, desirable, a circumstance that superimposes a grandly positive spin on every reading of the projects and Murcutt's attitudes, and his 'authoritative' statements. Can one ever truly look at the buildings and see them as part of ordinary, messy living, without seeing them as compromised? Do the projects require planned performances rather than any nonchalant living - special architectural theatre? Is there a style of thinking and living imposed on the occupants?
Once one sees the origins of Murcutt's attitudes to architecture in his early Miesian-inspired structures, for example, the proposals for the Laurie Short house and the Douglas Murcutt house, precisely and primly detailed, Miesian lookalikes, one can see this core, very self-conscious, calculated, Germanic attitude to planning, materials and junctions in all of his work. One gets the feeling that this self-conscious, laboured elegance underlies a superimposed layer of things 'Australian' - corrugated iron, overhangs, and louvres - that generate the regional 'lightness' boasted about. There is an 'artfulness' in this work that makes it un-Australian, but internationally attractive: "It's a bit arty-farty, ya know." Architects, even in Shetland, drool over the images and seek to recreate them in locations that could not be more remote from or different to the Australian context which the work is said to embody, as the texts record: 'Australian Architectural Form.' It is interesting to note how the Marie Short house is very similar in form to the Shetland Crofthouse Museum at Dunrossness.
Has Murcutt's universal success been this core, stoic, Miesian rigour that has been superimposed with things Aussie, offering suggestive, learnedly picturesque, twinned references to the International style and to bush sheds at one and the same time, making it easy for all to indulge the hybrid quality of this 'fusion' in regional architecture? Does the intimacy of the international approach make the strange, nostalgic, romanticism of the Australian character more accessible, more acceptable, more attractive, with its recognisable stylishness?
One senses that reviews such as this are seen, in themselves, as 'un-Australian.' "Give the bloke a break mate. He's done bloody well for a wanker. Ya should be proud of the bastard, the way he's shown all those smart-arse foreigners a thing or two. He's won a lota bloody awards, ya know." This is, of course, true, but letting ourselves be embroiled emotively in a congratulatory bespoke world is really no different to attending a rock concert: it is a unique, distraction from the everyday; pure entertainment for unquestioned indulgence.
The concern with the everyday is not to drag everything down to some rude, grubby, mundane existence that is devoid of art and wonder. The aim is to embody things ordinary in delight, to enrich things we are engaged in everyday. By isolating 'art' we are turning it into a special world that is an aside, a world that we turn to as something uniquely different - a world of heroes that we can dream about, aspire to be, to become, “if only.” Such a stance sews the seeds of constant dissatisfaction, enhancing the flourishing of envy that gnaws away at ordinary contentment, torturing the mind with constant disappointment; challenging the stability and stamina of one's mental well-being.
Coomaraswamy tells us how, with the traditional artist, personality and personal expression were irrelevant; characteristics that worked against good outcomes, to be discouraged, rather than becoming the core intent as they have today, where the ambition is 'self-expression.' Coomaraswamy writes of traditional times, when art had rules, in a world where 'every man was a special kind of artist, rather than every artist being seen as a special kind of man.' Things personal were seen as perversions rather than creative expressions.
It is the seeing of Murcutt as a 'special kind of man' that defines the problem, for his work comes to be seen likewise, as a 'special kind' of architecture. We seem to have forgotten about community, society, in our effort to create heroes to worship. Has this something to do with the demise of religion today, its conversion into the special extremes of individual, personally feel-good indulgences?
Murcutt says that he is not a religious person, but while working on the mosque, the imam told him that he was a very religious man. If Murcutt's story is true, one has to hope that Murcutt does not see this as his being some supreme creative being - a 'god.'
As for Modernism: it seems that, whatever one might call it, architecture today needs to look beyond the singular in every way, and concentrate on the complexities of the many, both as designers and as the things designed. We seem to gave lost any interest in designing place, neighbourhoods, towns, cities, concentrating only on heroes who build bespoke, stand-alone 'gems' that actually do stand alone, or are photographed to appear as though they do, or should, or could. One might call this syndrome 'narrow-minded' - a continuation of the search for distracting entertainment in our 'boring,' everyday existence that is tortured with feelings of inadequacy, emboldened by the envy stimulated by the bespoke, heroically singular world of marketing.
Yes, "You (too) can be heroes, just for one day" . . . and so the scene is set for everyone to become a genius, to expect this to be so, if only for Andy Warhol's "fifteen minutes of fame," just once, with Queen's refrain echoing in the mind: "We are the champions . . . . of the world!" "Ah! This is ME!"
We need more of Schumacher's 'good work' that finds a beauty in things small and apparently insignificant, rather than the emotive lust of blaring, itemised entertainment, be this a rock star or a 'starchitect' – see: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2014/02/starchitects-starkertecture.html Instead of ME and MY architecture, we need OUR architecture, places and spaces that we can all understand, share, and enjoy as part of our everyday being there, requiring no special ways of seeing or acting - https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2013/11/bond-downpipes.html - or any unique stances for recognition or admiration: we need buildings that can participate in our lives without making any demands on us to acknowledge the 'starchitecture.' We need structures that can nonchalantly enfold our being and enhance our contentment by accommodating us, anticipating purpose, functions and feelings as good designs do with depth, with a simple modesty that embraces the spirit, sustains with a quiet satisfaction: see - https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2019/04/what-is-good-design.html
It is the latent ambition of architects today to become heroes who create iconic, 'creative' works for the adulation of all, that inhibits an OUR architecture that can care, instead of arrogantly perform. This circumstance can be best exhibited in the way architects annihilate an other's work, demean it by word of mouth or actual action, activities that either change the other's work without talking to the original architect, or just ignore its presence completely with some dominant adjacent expression that claims visual superiority.#
In short, we need to come to know and understand building, space, and place, not the architect or the ‘architecture;’ and build appropriately: heroes only distract us with all of their personal pomp and hype that frames a field of envy.
*
Architectural award evenings use the model of the Oscars presentation with all of its glamour and hype for this celebration, treating the 'winners' as 'stars.'
# This has happened to me on two occasions now where the Rayner architectural firm has boldly changed my work significantly without any discussion or attempt to seek my input. One might expect this from the firm that was blocked on Wikipedia for improper use: see - https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2014/02/tensegrity-bridge.html This is the firm that falsely claimed it had designed the first ever tensegrity bridge.
Councils likewise feel that they can do whatever they want to another's work. Experience has seen councils remove, alter, and demolish projects and pieces of projects to suit ambitions for 'easy' solutions to civic infrastructure. One artwork in Brisbane was completely removed after the artist refused to change the glass fountain table to a stainless steel one. Brisbane has a history of disappearing fountains: they just become too much trouble to maintain, even after being transformed into a garden. This attitude says something mean about the city itself.
NOTE
Beam's book on the Farnsworth House, Broken Glass, seems to tell the story of how architects see themselves as heroes who look on a project as an opportunity for personal expression.
