Copyright 1997: Christopher K. Egan

"Marco Polo describes a bridge, stone by stone.

‘But which is the stone that supports the bridge?’ Kublai Khan asks.

‘The bridge is not supported by one stone or another,’ Marco answers, ‘but by the line of the arch that they form.’

Kublai Khan remains silent, reflecting. Then he adds: ‘Why do you speak to me of the stones? It is only the arch that matters to me.’

Polo answers: ‘Without stones there is no arch.’"¹

Italo Calvino

 

What is architectural theory? What is the relationship between physical building and intellectual thought? What is the foundation on which we can construct an architectural discourse?

Architectural theory is the set of beliefs we use to decide what to build, how to build, how to evaluate what is built, and how to talk among ourselves about building. I suggest that theory is inescapable; it is not possible to make or discuss architecture without theory, even if we try to avoid it. Theory is not some arcane topic for graduate students and professors, it is instead the driving force behind all critique, from Design One Studios on through professional practice. When we evaluate the way a piece of wood meets a piece of metal, when we discuss the ways a circle meets a square, when we criticize the quality of light or the use of proportions, we are comparing an artifact to a set of values. When we question which is more important, formal issues versus human needs, we are expressing our belief in a set of values. When we express a preference for one mode of building over another, we are expressing a set of values. The moment we offer a judgment or criticism, we are implying that a particular artifact does or does not meet some set of standards. These standards, these values, comprise our theory.

When we are designing, we constantly confront choices. We must choose between materials; we must choose between various approaches to site and context; we must select a mode of construction; we must decide what if any cultural meaning we will try to evoke. Always we must make choices, and these choices imply standards, values, or beliefs. How can we choose without a system of beliefs on which to base our choices? This system of beliefs is our theory.

Whether we are designing or evaluating design, we apply a set of standards, a theoretical framework. Too often, however, these standards are not articulated. They are left unconscious and unexamined. As we learn from the history of medieval thought, ideas which are left unexamined can be dangerously misleading. It is not true that we can choose whether or not to have a theory; we can only choose whether or not to understand our own theory. We can choose between consciousness and lack of consciousness. To reject theory is to repress conscious thought, since all building is based on some premise, whether conscious or unconscious. I maintain that theory is the inevitable partner of consciousness, inescapable in a world whose primary constant is change.

The Birth of Theory in Philosophy

"I am, I exist - that is certain; but for how long do I exist? For as long as I think...

But what then am I? A thinking being. What is a thinking being? It is a being which doubts, which understands, which conceives, which affirms, which denies, which wills, which rejects, which imagines also, and which perceives."²

Rene Descartes

Architectural theory emerged from the realm of self-conscious speculative thought we call philosophy. Western philosophy was constructed by a culture of sailor/traders who embarked on an unpredictable sea from their home in the rocky landscape of classical Greece. While they learned mathematics and building from the older rigid cultures of Egypt and Babylon, their needs were more dynamic. As James Burke observed,

"The uneven nature of their physical environment, with marginal agricultural productivity, little room for landward expansion, hostile neighbors, and the need to trade, made the colonial Greeks dynamic in outlook....It may have been because of their economic circumstances that the Ionians took a radically new view of the world....These Ionians began, ahead of all others, to ask fundamental questions about how the universe worked. Where the older cultures had been content to refer to custom, edict, revelation, and priestly authority, Thales and the others looked to naturalistic explanations for the origin of the world and everything in it. They began to find ways of exploring nature, in order to control it, the better to ensure their survival."³

From its origins in Greece, philosophy has attempted to determine which thoughts are valid and which are the remnants of custom. In the seventeenth century, philosopher and mathematician Rene Descartes attempted to establish foundations of thought by applying a method of rigorous doubt to the realm of ideas. His famous First Meditation questions if anything can be known at all, and after casting doubt on his own existence, he finally determines that, because he is thinking, at least he knows that he exists.⁴ Later, in a reply to a colleague's objections, Descartes used the metaphor of a bushel of apples to describe rigorous thought. He suggested that, in order to cleanse our minds of poorly conceived ideas, we must first empty the bushel, and carefully examine each apple before accepting it and putting it back into the bushel. In the same way, rigorous architectural thought requires that we test our assumptions before accepting them as true.

Thought in a Time of Change

Architectural history is filled with times of change and times of stability. Gothic architecture emerged in Paris at a time of rich theological discourse and increased contact with the sophisticated architecture of the Islamic world. This brief burst of architectural change was followed by several hundred years of refinement and evolution. Then, a new time of change found fruition in Italy, which led to the rejection of Gothic and the emergence of Renaissance architecture. This initial burst of innovation was in turn followed by a period of refinement and continuity. During the times between change, it is common for the architect to learn rules and principles, and to build using these. Perhaps such an architect has no obligation to question the rules. However, in times of transition, the architect must question the most fundamental aspects of architecture.

Theory is inevitable in a changing world. In a traditional culture, one in which change occurs gradually if at all, it is enough to learn how to build as well as our grandparents, since the experience of generations has resolved any problems which may arise. The modern condition, however, is one in which change is so rapid and challenges are so great that we simply cannot rely solely on the gifts of our ancestors. To act in an unchanging traditional world, we may act without consciously questioning our assumptions; but to act in a dynamic modern world, we have no choice but to constantly re-assess each premise and decision. We are forced, like Descartes, to dump out all our thoughts, examine each for validity, and hold only those which we find to be valid. We are forced to re-construct our theory before we can build our buildings. We are forced to choose between active consciousness or the blind servitude of unconsciousness, but either way we cannot hide from the product of our choices.

It is important to stress that a demand for consciousness is not a rejection of tradition. Human history has been filled with challenges to sacred beliefs, and the result has often been to strengthen the most profound beliefs while jettisoning those which are superfluous or temporal. The emotional draw of sentiment and nostalgia sometimes provide glimpses into deep cultural foundations; but sentiment and nostalgia can also blind us to new realities, providing false comfort in a haven from truth. Carl Jung defined "modernity" as a condition of mind, a condition in which we are conscious of our tenuous place in time.⁵ In a paper titled Dancing on the Threshold of Thought I wrote that, "the modern person is one who realizes that, although tradition is a fertile soil, we are nonetheless obligated to make sense of the present; similarly, the modern condition includes the sobering consciousness of a future in which we may become insignificant fragments of someone else’s past."⁶ I believe that architects have a complex cultural role: on one hand they provide the structures and spaces to house the culture’s activities, but at the same time they are among the guardians and shapers of their culture’s memory and aspirations. I believe that architects have obligations to their culture’s past, present and future. We architects must understand our culture’s memories, must give form to our culture’s present, and must leave our descendants an enriched architectural legacy. In order to protect and transform our cultures, we must understand them; and this requires consciousness.

There is a word in architectural terminology which I consider useful when thinking about architecture: the word "threshold." By threshold I mean a thick space, a space between spaces, a place where a traveler may pause and consider the next stage in the journey. (This idea is discussed further in another paper.⁷) Architectural thought, whether in the short-term context of the design process or the long-term evolution of architectural theory, takes place in a series of thresholds. I believe that architecture is a journey, a journey of experience, education, reflection, building, and further reflection. Sometimes our path is very clear, and we move forward in confidence; but sometimes we must pause and re-evaluate before we can be certain of the next step.

The approaching change of centuries presents a threshold, within which we must re-consider how to construct architectural thought. We are designing and building at a time of change, a time when nations and cultures are in flux. Some changes appear fresh and liberating, while others are clearly destructive. The one thing we cannot avoid is the reality of change. If architecture is a component of culture, then cultural change demands a re-evaluation of architecture. Perhaps the architecture must reinforce older values, or perhaps the architecture must embody new realities. These are decisions which must be made within each culture, but they all require conscious thought.

Architectural discourse in the twentieth century has been intense, sweeping and combative, driven by a dialectical metaphor in which opposing ideas battle for total victory and total subjugation. This turmoil has revealed new modes for thinking about architecture; but the combative nature of dialectical thought may have prevented us from constructing a more complex and useful theory. As the century ends, the metaphor of the dialectic may be giving way to less combative metaphors of polarity and weaving, which permit us to draw multiple ideas into a more subtly nuanced fabric of thought. Much architectural discourse of recent years has been characterized by a crisis of insecurity, a sense that, in order to partake of intellectual gravity architecture must look outside itself for profundity. Of course it is often fruitful to look into other disciplines for sources of insight; but too often this comes at the expense of ignoring the profound nature of architecture. Unfortunately, too often when architects look to other disciplines for insight, they become seduced by surface characteristics and miss the deeper substance where real lessons may be found. It is useful to explore the fruits of other disciplines, but in doing so we must not lose the roots of our own.

Conclusion

When Descartes was explaining the importance of his method of doubting fundamentals, he used an architectural metaphor: "Once the foundations of a building are undermined, anything built on them collapses of their own accord."⁸ He suggested that, if we are to have confidence in the validity of our thoughts, we must first make certain that the foundations are strong. I believe that, at this threshold of changing centuries, we can construct architectural thought on solid foundations. I suggest that we begin with the fundamental act of architecture, the making and ordering of occupiable space through physical construction. Our foundation begins with the embodied, perceiving human and extends out in a series of paths and thresholds through the construction and articulation of spaces and buildings meaningful to us.

In my writings I have begun to explore some of these ideas. "Dancing on the Threshold of Thought" asks if theory still has a place in architecture, and uses built work to respond affirmatively. "The Body and Choreographed Space" proposes the human body as one foundation stone for an architectural theory, and suggests a methodology for its application in design. "Materiality and Cultural Memory" considers how the physical materials of construction are shaped by the complex memories of human culture. "Layers of Memory, Layers of Meaning" uses the methods of phenomenology to suggest one way in which physical construction can contain meaning. "Umbrales del Pensamiento Arquitectonico" combines some of these ideas to present a call for vigorous thought as we build the new millennium.

Consciousness is the realm of theory, and in a time of change we cannot build meaningfully without first examining our thoughts. If we are to participate in the shaping of our future architecture, then we must be willing to follow Descartes’ example of honest, healthy skepticism. Like Descartes we must lay our assumptions on the table and expose them to the light of criticism, even if the results are disturbing. If our ideas are proven to be valid and sound we can add them to our basket; but if they are found lacking we must let them rest in peace, as cherished old friends no longer with us. Healthy discourse has no room for personal attacks or defensiveness; we each hold a piece of the puzzle and must share these openly and with mutual respect. However, we cannot hide from the challenge of thought if we are to call ourselves architects. For as the millennia change, there is no place to hide from the demon of consciousness.

Notes