POSTMODERNISM AND TRADITIONALISM

February 26, 2023

Postmodernism is usually regarded as a movement distinct from modernism, hence the name, but is probably better understood as a sub-movement within the modernist progression, succeeding the ‘high’ or ‘classical’ modernism of Mies et. al. and preceding the ‘deconstructionist’ or ‘parametricist’ modernism of figures like Zaha Hadid and Rem Koolhaas.

Aldo Rossi (1931-1997) is one of the more interesting of the architects categorised as ‘postmodernist’. His work exemplifies that movement’s flirtation with traditionalism, and he was perhaps the most successful of any of the big name postmodernist architects in his incorporation of traditional design principles in his buildings.

Rossi’s Teatro del Mondo, a temporary structure built on a barge for the Venice Biennale, is playful and fantastical, with simple geometric shapes and windows looking like something out of a Miyazaki film or a child’s drawing, but it has an undeniable charm and seems perfectly at home in its context.

His Scholastic Building in New York (1997) displays strong symmetry, verticality, and reasonable distribution of scales in its facade, though not in the bare columns. It fits relatively well into its streetscape, but ultimately suffers in comparison to the buildings on either side of it, especially the Beaux-Arts Little Singer Building (1903) with its beautifully ornamented facade of iron lacework and terracotta panels.

The Quartier Schützenstrasse in Berlin (1997) is an ensemble of basically conventional urban buildings, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Only the colours and dormer windows betray it as a ‘postmodern’ work.

Postmodern architecture is characterised by a playful irony, and it is generally in this spirit that traditionalist elements were deployed. But the line between playful allusion and grotesque caricature is a fine one, and too often irony is seemingly used to ‘spike’ or self-sabotage the work, perhaps out of a fear of sincerity. After all, to commit to ‘playing by the rules’ of traditional design is to open oneself to the possibility of losing the game. Rossi’s House in Friedrichstadt, Berlin (1981) is a good example of this: it seems Rossi couldn’t resist the temptation to stamp his individuality on the project, to disturb an otherwise attractive and modest building and make it ‘remarkable’ by inserting a grossly overscaled and unornamented ‘column’ into the looming corner cutout.

VERNACULAR PICTURES 11: BRICK CORNICES

February 19, 2023

The external wall-roof junction is barely given any attention in contemporary architecture, and especially in volume-built housing: it is invariably a simple timber or colorbond fascia/barge board, to which is attached a steel eaves gutter in one of several common profiles, which acts not only to catch water but also to hide the unsightly edge of the steel or tile roof from view.

Typical Australian ‘builder’s vernacular’ treatment of the external wall-roof junction, showing colorbond eaves gutter and ugly colorbond fascia.

Examples from traditional architecture remind us, as always, that there are many many other and more interesting ways to handle this transition, especially in brick. The possible ornamental permutations of a brick cornice are infinite!

The brick cornice and tile roof of the cloister of the church of San Michele, Venice, 15th century.

How not to do it: the monotonous, scale-impoverished result of a modernist attempt at being ‘interesting’.

WHAT IS TRADITIONAL ARCHITECTURE?

February 12, 2023

Over a year into this blog, and it has occurred to me that I have never really attempted to explicitly define or articulate what traditional architecture and design are - at least not in a single, reasonably comprehensive and standalone post. So I thought I would give it a go, with the idea that an abridged version of it could also serve as a useful addition to the ‘About’ section of this website.

To most people, the term traditional architecture brings to mind images of ‘old’ or ‘historical’ buildings, in contrast to what they might regard as modern, modernist, or contemporary architecture. The association of traditional design with the past is understandable, because until the 20th century all buildings were traditional, and today almost no traditional buildings are built, at least not in Australia. But this is an unfortunate and damaging misconception, and I would like to address it here, by establishing definitions for the various terms, and laying out at least an introductory examination of the concepts.

THE TRADITIONAL AS METHODOLOGY

Traditional architectural design is not about the past, or of the past. Rather, it is a particular design approach or methodology, a ‘timeless’ way of designing and building that was once universal across all eras and cultures: so universal, in fact, that until the advent of modernism it didn’t even have a name. It is not an abstract, theoretical framework, but a set of design principles, developed by instinct and transmitted by custom and instruction. These principles include fractal scaling, harmonious proportions, verticality over horizontality, symmetry, ornamentation, natural or ‘honest’ use of materials, and colour harmony, amongst others. I have explored them (or will explore them) in detail elsewhere on this blog and so will not go into them here.

MODERNISm as ideology

Modernist architecture, or modernism, also represents a particular approach to design, but one that is far more abstract and theoretical, and, I would argue, ideological. It is the antithesis of the traditional. From its beginnings, modernism has positioned itself in opposition to and in rebellion against the traditional, and though it is typically described in positive terms — minimalist, functional, rational, analytical, and so on — I would instead suggest that it is a negation, characterised by a progressive rejection and abandonment of the traditional design principles listed above.

TRADITIONALIsm as ideology

On reflection, perhaps it would be better to refer to the practice of traditional design methodology as traditionalism, both to make its oppositional relationship to modernist architecture more explicit, and to acknowledge that, in our age, it is the modernist methodology that has become universal, applied reflexively and by default to almost all contemporary design; conversely, traditional design is now also by necessity an ideology; it is become the outsider position that must be consciously and deliberately sided with and defended.

THE CONTEMPORARY

Strictly speaking, contemporary means ‘of the same time’ but since it is commonly used simply to mean ‘current’ or ‘recent,’ that is how I will use it here, and not to refer to the particular style of architecture that I have defined as modernism. In this sense, every building we now consider ‘historical’ was contemporary in its own age: Wells Cathedral (1239) and the the Royal Liver Building (1911) were both very much contemporary, and even modern, to the people alive at the time of their construction; and yet, despite being separated by over 700 years, both are also traditional buildings.

The Royal Liver Building (1911) by Walter Aubrey Thomas

In contrast, compare the Royal Liver Building to the Fagus Factory (1913): although these two buildings are almost exactly contemporary, and both are undoubtedly modern as I have defined it, the former is clearly traditional, and the latter modernist.

The Fagus Factory (1913) by Walter Gropius and Adolf Meyer

THE MODERN or industrial

Note that I use modern, in distinction to modernist, simply as a technological description, without stylistic or ideological implications, to indicate buildings that incorporate any of the revolutionary advances in building materials (primarily steel, concrete, float glass) and methods (riveting, welding, bolting, reinforced concrete, steel trusses, tension structures, etc.) that occurred in the industrial revolution, particularly from the latter half of the 19th century onwards. An alternate and perhaps more accurate term to describe these materials and methods would be industrial.

THE TRADITIONAL OR PRE-INDUSTRIAL

In contrast to the modern or industrial methods and materials are what are usually called ‘traditional’ methods and materials; but again, to avoid confusion with the use of traditional elsewhere as a methodological term, these materials and methods might be better described as pre-industrial: stone, clay, timber, reed, bamboo, puddled and blown glass; post-and-beam construction, wattle and daub, solid masonry construction, arches, and the like.

THE TWO AXES

With the meanings of these various terms defined and distinguished from one another, we can now establish two separate binaries, polarities, or axes: on the one hand, we have the design-methodological axis of Traditionalism — Modernism; on the other, the material-technological axis of Traditional — Modern, or, alternatively and perhaps less confusingly, Pre-industrial — Industrial. This formulation makes it clear that it is entirely possible to build a modernist building with pre-industrial materials and methods, or a traditional building with industrial materials and methods. In fact, all modern buildings before the 20th century were traditional in design, the Royal Liver Building being just one of tens of thousands of examples. And what is true then is true today: the principles of traditional design can be applied equally successfully and validly to contemporary buildings, using modern materials and methods, without contradiction.

OPPOSING WORLDVIEWS

It is probably fair to say that, beyond their methodological opposition, traditionalism and modernism also represent opposing philosophies or worldviews. Traditionalism tends to eschew Theory with a capital T and pseudo-philosophical interpretative frameworks, and rejects the idea of architecture as a ‘high’ art whose purpose is to serve as a vehicle for the ego-expression of the architect as unfettered creative genius. The traditionalist designer is happy to work within the ‘rules of the game,’ understands that traditional architecture can be as deeply idiosyncratic, creative, and innovative as modernist architecture, and that the possibilities inherent within traditional design principles are far richer, more challenging, and more rewarding than those offered by the modernist ideal of ‘following one’s own rules.’

HISTORICISM and pastiche

Traditional design is not ‘historicist’ or ‘pastiche.’ Were the neo-classical architects of the Renaissance or the neo-gothic architects of the Victorian era historicists? Are the cast-iron classical columns of the great train stations of the 19th century ‘pastiche?’ Of course not. It is hubris to think that our own time is somehow exceptional or different to all the ages that have passed, or that the modernism that prevails today is somehow ‘better’ than the thousands of years of traditional architecture that came before it. The traditionalist sees the whole history of architecture before the 20th century as a continuum (the word itself comes from the Latin traditionem, ‘a handing down’) and a repository of elements that he is free to incorporate and combine in his own work. This inheritance was rejected by the modernist architects, who instead chose to follow a path that traditionalists would argue is unnatural and even unhealthy, both psychologically and physically. Traditionalists regard the principles of traditional design not as arbitrary or subjective stylistic preferences, but as objectively desirable and appealing, because they are deeply rooted in and reflective of human neurology and psychology.

THE VERNACULAR

Finally, I should note that traditional architectural design can be divided into two broad and sometimes overlapping subcategories: the vernacular and the classical. Vernacular is also sometimes called folk architecture, though it has been argued that vernacular architecture is not strictly speaking architecture at all, but simply building. It is the ‘low’ architecture of the common people: houses, townhouses, worker’s cottages, barns and the like. It is characterised by simplicity and rusticity, archetypal forms, modest scales, local materials, and minimal ornamentation. There are no vernacular architects, only builders, working unselfconsciously and anonymously within a local style passed down from master to apprentice, without working drawings, and with local materials. Vernacular buildings form the ‘ground’ of the traditional built environment.

THE CLASSICAL

Classical architecture (again, some would regard this expression as tautological and instead simply use the term architecture) on the other hand is formal, ornamented, refined, and very consciously designed to a high degree of perfection, often with reference to historical examples and built to drawn plans. It is the architecture of the temple, the villa, the museum, the bank: classical buildings are the ‘figure’ or ‘feature’ buildings of the traditional built environment, set amongst and against the far more numerous buildings of the vernacular ‘ground’.

The musicological distinction between classical music and ‘folk’ or ‘ethnological’ music is a very apt analogy here, and probably a distinction that most people are more familiar with.

Classical architecture: the British Museum

In the west, we are naturally most familiar with the western classical and vernacular traditions, but all civilisations have their own analogous traditions, within which the same vernacular-classical or high-low distinctions can be drawn; the important point is that all of these traditions are, of course, traditional.

VERNACULAR PICTURES 10: ARCHITECTURE ON SCREEN

February 5, 2023

Do an image search for ‘architecture in movies’ and the results you get back are a largely predictable survey of what most people (and probably most architects) would think of when prompted by the term: sci-fi cityscapes and mega-sets going right back to Metropolis (1927), or some species of ‘high architecture’, typically brutalism or clinical modernism. Utopias and dystopias.

Finding good traditional and vernacular architecture and design on screen, on the other hand, is not something you can do with a simple google search. It’s more of an incidental treasure hunt: occasionally coming across an interesting facade or design detail in something you happen to be watching for unrelated reasons. Unsurprisingly, these finds tend to come not from sci-fi films or big budget spectaculars, but from historical movies and documentaries. I have a small collection of screenshots of buildings from such sources, with nothing in common other than that something about them caught my eye. Unfortunately I saved many of them with titles like ‘dfwfkigwhx’ so don’t always remember where they came from!

This painterly scene from one of Sergio Leone’s *The Man With no Name* trilogy of films (I forget which- probably *The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly*) is a clear homage to Vermeer’s *The Milkmaid*.

Architecture on screen can either be real buildings, or buildings that are built as ‘props’ for a film or television production and so are generally not fully functional. There is also the category of buildings in historical parks, which might be genuine historical buildings relocated from elsewhere, or modern but faithful and complete reconstructions. There is an overlap here: historical theme parks are sometimes used to film movies or television programs, and historical movie sets are sometimes opened to the public, for example the set of ancient Rome built for the TV series Rome at Cinecitta Studios, also in Rome. Toei Movie Village in Kyoto, Japan was intended from its inception to operate both as a movie set and theme park, often at the same time.

Part of the appeal of what you might call ‘set’ architecture is that it presents us with buildings that no longer exist in the world, either because they would be illegal to build, or because there is simply no demand for them. Unencumbered by codes, regulations, or popular taste, vernacular architecture on screen is ironically more ‘authentic’ and beautiful than anything you will find in real life in many places. Perhaps ‘Go into the movies’ is good advice not just for young actors!