Art is Dead Part 3: Architecture is Dead

Art is Dead Part 1
Art is Dead Part 2

I've known a number of people, friends, professors, fellow peers, even some journalists say that the profession of architecture is dying. They're almost correct. Architecture is dead. I've heard a number of accusations for why architects are a dying breed, and why architecture seems to get crummier over the years. Among the speculations are: contractors gaining all the power (so become a contractor if you want power), the economy, LEED, the demand of knowledge required for the ARE, separation of architect and engineer and interior designer (i.e. separation of disciplines), et cetera. Perhaps these are factors, but they compare nothing to the two main factors to the death of architecture: the death of beauty in architecture, and the birth of hubris.

After Gropius made his modification to Vitruvius' so-called three points of architecture (functional utility, structural stability, and charming beauty), in which Gropius stated: utilitas + firmitas = venustas. This ultimately left the notions of charm, delight, and beauty on the back-burner of architectural theory and practice ever since. Architects used to say that everyone knows something is beautiful or ugly when they see it, and so notions of what creates the healthiest beauty in architecture was the primary focus of theory. For instance, Alberti discusses what is appropriate to a building (what Vitruvius called decorum): certainly the Corinthian Order is the most beautiful of all the Orders of Architecture, but it is inappropriate to use the Corinthian on a rustic farm house. But a church, a house of God, all architects ranging from Alberti to Ledoux agreed that there was never enough ornament or beautiful things that could be added to make it suitable for its purpose.

Beauty was often, if not almost entirely attached to the discipline of being appropriate for the most healthy beauty. But the idea that beauty is simply known and recognized by all was indeed quite a presumptuous statement. It is what Kant would have called "metaphysical", "a priori" and should be left out of the discussion. So architects then resorted to tradition for beauty and focused on other realms of practice: fireproofing, use of steel, standardization, civic structures, et cetera. Henri Labrouste's work is probably one of the finest selection of examples of leaving beauty to tradition (i.e. to pre-established forms and proportions) and focusing on something like fireproofing. Robert Mills is another fantastic example of this in America.

But God had the audacity to go die on us, and suddenly with Modernist figures like Gropius, Breuer, Le Corbusier, van der Rohe, Loos, et cetera began to focus on form and function, utility, standardization, industrialization, and taking advantage of new structural capabilities (i.e. skyscraper technology). Suddenly a new idea opened up, which if beauty had never been abolished, would have prevented such hubris: the aspiration to create a universal architecture... whatever that means.

The audacity to think there was, is or could be a universal architecture is hubris that inevitably led to Pruit Igoe, and Pruit Igoe is the finest example of why not everyone deserves the same thing. The notion that everyone is equal on all levels is absolute foolishness: to say that all are or can be equally intelligent, capable, skillful, beautiful, economically endowed, politically powerful, et cetera is pure hogwash. Certain everyone should be respected for the qualities of their place in society and the contributions they make, but to say everyone is equal is myopic, if not completely blind. Men and women are physiologically unequal, as well as mentally and emotionally unequal in how their cognitive processes function, but each's differences should be respected, because the world is not singular; the working men/women have their own skills that society cannot function without, and they should be respective for them; the academics have their own skills and knowledge that they should be respected for; and so forth - but in no way are any of them equal. To think everyone is equal is what has led to the DIY age: everyone thinks they're a photographer when they take a picture of their food, everyone thinks they're a philosopher, an artist, a theologian, a politician, a handyman, et cetera... which has inevitably led to an era of some of the worst political agendas and policies in history, some of the shittiest art, and the most poorly founded philosophy we may ever have the disadvantage to know.

As such, not everyone deserves the same architecture: this was previously at the heart of the discussion of beauty since the Greeks up until the Modernists. Thinking everyone is equal led to the desire to do the same thing for everyone rich and poor alike, powerful and weak alike, mentally and physically powerful alike. The same principles that built some of Le Corbusier's finest works are the same principles that built Yamasaki's Pruit Igoe (same architect of the World Trade Centers). Since when does the world's most significant and powerful economic center deserve to be built under the same principles as a low-income housing project? It is not only irresponsible, but inappropriate. To forget what is appropriate and inappropriate in architecture, what is beautiful to the project, created a crisis that no one has been able to solve since.

The demolition of Pruit Igoe is often considered to be the death of Modernism. It demonstrated that architecture as a social vehicle can fail terribly: it exacerbating crime and poverty. It's construction was shoddy and needed extensive repair, and given the high level of crime among the projects, the only solution was destruction, which is absolutely fitting. Pruit Igoe won Yamasaki numerous awards, and was herald as one of the finest works of architecture from the Modernist Era. And when Modernism failed, which was inevitable, it was time to destroy that awesome work of Moderism, just as Michelangelo's bronze of Julius II needed to be destroyed. Not all things are equal, and not all things deserve the same things.

Now we have the hubris of the Post-Modernists, who often do some of the most inappropriate works of architecture (if it could be called Architecture, with a capital A) this world has seen. Take for instance Koolhaas' Villa dall'Ava: it's in a historic 19th Century neighborhood in Paris, and is by far an abomination to its context. Had the small house been built in the middle of a prairie, like Corb's Villa Savoye (the client of Villa dall'Ava wanted an updated version of Villa Savoye, which was equally hubristic), then there would be no problem: it would be isolate as its own object valued as a separate object. But it just had to be done in a historic neighborhood, which is inappropriate, making it one ugly house.

In a way that's what beauty is: being relevant and appropriate to its context. Frank Lloyd Wright, probably the greatest of the Modernists, understood context and appropriateness. The Usoanian houses were small, affordable houses for middle class families, and they were appropriate to the client and their neighborhoods. Then for more wealthy clients he would build something like Fallingwater, Prairies Style houses, et cetera. For institutional clients (churches, museums, offices) he built another way that was appropriate to them. While Wright was not always successful, he is a fine example of appropriateness or "beauty" in architecture.

Now we have Libeskind, Thom Mayne, Hadid, et cetera who do works that are oftentimes absolutely inappropriate. Why does Libeskind need to do a house prototype that looks like his museums? Even his museums are inappropriate, at least to the art they house. Before Post-Modernism architects addressed structural problems when they were required to address them: Brunelleschi's dome in Florence, skyscraper technology, hammerbeams, et cetera. Now architects dream up unnecessary structural problems to address, such as Nouvel's 174 foot (53 meters) long cantilever in the Guthrie Theater, which is not only ugly, but pointless. Nouvel isn't the next Brunelleschi: a bigass cantilever is not a "structural feat", because in order to be a feat is must have been a readily recognized structural problem. Making a cantilever that big was not an aesthetic or structural problem, it was Nouvel's problem - in a sense, a personal problem. And so we return to self-expression in art.

Personal expression in architecture is absolutely irresponsible, if not unethical. Architecture is for the world, for the masses, and each part of society gets their own architecture, but each part's architecture can be respected by all. The highbrow architects admired Pruit Igoe, but its tenets did not, and so it failed and deserved demolition. Nouvel's Guthrie Theater deserves demolition. It deserves it because it died the moment it was built, it died when Nouvel had to interject his own personal "structural problems" into a cultural center. It is not only hubristic, but lacks appropriateness, and therefore lacks beauty.

Such is the death of architecture: lack of concern for appropriateness, lack of beauty, and filled to the brim with hubris. The only means of reviving architecture is by architects asking, "should we do that?" How do LEED points create architecture? (They don't). How is a bike rack a criteria for ethically responsible architecture? (It isn't). Do we need to do a seven foot tall, four inch thick wide-flange beam to achieve this giant pointed cantilever crossing 13th Avenue? (No). Should we make an all-glass house in a residential neighborhood? (No). Should we build a factory in a residential area? (Why is that a question?). Do we need to use titanium on this new project? (Not really).

Like art, and certainly more so than art, architectre has a prominent social and ethical function. If it can't be respected, if beauty and appropriateness can't be respected, if hubris and ego can't be sacrificed for beauty, then architecture deserves to die.

Art is Dead Part 2

I don't mean to do a second part to my last post, but apparently a few people have misunderstood my point in Art is Dead, which I apologize for, and I would like to clarify in order to drive home a point.

Art itself is not dead. Personal expression in art is dead. Nobody cares about your feelings and how you express them in a song, painting, poem, some piece of shit Photoshop job, whatever. I write poetry from time to time, but its typically very personal in content, and so I keep them to myself. I've only ever shared a few of my poems to a few friends, and it was embarrassing and ill-received. As such I don't share my personal poems. They're mine. They're for me, and no one else, just as they should be. I have drawings and paintings that are personal that I've never shared with anyone, and I don't plan on it. When I suspect I'm getting close to dying I plan on burning all of them. Why? Because they're not for the world. Once they enter into the world they are no long your own, and then they die.

They die? Yes. To explain I will give an illustration from an acquaintance of mine, Dave, and his son. Dave's son was about 10 or 11 years old when this happened, and he was in trouble at school for not sharing his thoughts and feelings about things with his classmates. His teachers and counselors were concerned and asked Dave to intervene. Dave asked his son why he refused to share himself with his classmates, and this beautiful boy said one of the most profound things I've heard a boy say; he said, "I don't want to share my thoughts, because when I do they die." Concise, poignant, beautiful, and absolutely true.

Such is the nature of self-expression in art: once given to the world it dies; it no longer belongs to the artist, poet, or composer. The world takes it and morphs it to fit its own collective and/or personal agenda. Take for instance memes: Richard Dawkins coined the term meme to describe an idea or behavior that is propagated through a culture or subculture. Like biological genes, memes endure mutation and evolution over the years. Dawkins gave this idea of meme to the world, then the internet took it and transformed it pictures with words, and sometimes just the latest iconographic trend. We hardly recognize meme in the way Dawkins described it. Dawkins' meme idea died when he introduced it to the world, and was transmuted into something else entirely. (It's sort of meta what happened to the idea of meme). The same goes for personal expression: once expressed and given to the world your expression dies and the world does with it whatever it pleases.

If it's already dead once expressed, then it served its purpose, build a pyre and burn it. Don't express it ever again. Move on. That said, I am in no way (nor do I think Artaud was either) against personal expression. It is our natural right, and its a natural urge, a libido to express oneself. We should express ourselves through whatever means we wish: make a video, write a song, compose a poem, render a painting, carve a sculpture, whatever. Do it. Go for it. Express yourself, then move on, because there is no need to express the same thing over and over, especially after its dead.

And it is also entirely natural to express oneself through the various mediums of art, because art is at heart pure expression. Art is always expressing something. But personal expression in art is not true art. Personal art is a means to an end. Once the expression of the self is expressed the piece has achieved its purpose and serves no further purpose. But true art expresses the sentiments of a given culture - religiously, socially, politically - which is the means in which true art can heal a culture, remind us of our values, repulse us of our errors, guide us in a particular doctrine (politically or religiously), et cetera. That is the ethical function of art. To achieve that ethical and social function true art must express the culture's totems and taboos. True art's expressions are constantly regenerated so long as that culture exists and is perpetuated, because cultural expression in true art has no means to an end, only means, so long as the culture can constantly reinforce and regenerate its values through art. The more extravagant and Baroque the Star Spangled Banner gets at every football game is a means to constantly regenerate American ideals. Every time the Lord's Prayer is given before eating constantly regenerates Christian ideals, which serves the same function the Sistine Ceiling or Caravaggio's Call of Saint Matthew does. But these regenerations of ideas (e.g. cultural healing) in art can only function so long as that culture survives. Michelangelo's David is stagnant, because it no longer invokes the young boy (Florence) in giant form taking on a colossal oppression (i.e. Papal Rome, the Middle Ages, cultural tyranny, et cetera). While the David is still a wonderful sight, it's function was served, Florence fell out of the spotlight around the end of the Italian Renaissance, and the David is now dead. Since the Italian Renaissance ended most people (except for Florentines) don't understand why Michelangelo carved the David, and is now only remembered as a well-crafted, huge sculpture, and is famous for some reason, but not many people know why. The regenerating, healing aspect of a piece of art now ineffective and its purpose and expression forgotten (or at least has to be explained to comprehend), the piece of art is effectively dead. It might as well be destroyed.

"But wait," one might say, "I thought you loved Michelangelo!" And I do. I'm demonstrating an extreme position to illustrate a point. I would never actually advocate the destruction of Michelangelo's giant, and I would be appalled if it was destroyed. I still get upset that Michelangelo's bronze statue of Pope Julius II was destroyed and turned into a cannon (called the Julia), because it was his only bronze piece, and is a gem of history no one will have the luxury of gazing upon and wandering why it was made. But I must admit, Michelangelo's bronze Julius served its purpose so long as Pope Julius II held Bologna under the rule of the Papal States, and after Bologna succeeded the bronze Julius was no longer necessary, and so it was appropriately smelted down and turned into a cannon, which was necessary to fight papal rule. As sad as I find this scenario, it fully demonstrates my point and my sentiments: I find it to be a tragedy, but if the work of art no longer serves it purpose, then it is appropriate to destroy it because it is dead. Build a pyre and burn the dead.

Again, I do not advocate the destruction of culturally significant art, such as the David, because enough cultural art and wonders have been lost to the destructive nature of humanity. On the other hand there is personal art, which I say if the artist wishes to preserve it for their own sentiments, then that is welcomed. But don't shove your shitty paintings, songs, and poems down everyone else's throats. It's for you, and unto you it belongs, and unto no one else. If you must give it to the world, do so once and never again, because once expressed your work is dead. No one cares about your breakup expressed in a poorly written song that uses three guitar chords, or your half-witted attempt to toss oil-based pigments onto a canvas to express your depression, or a shoddy expression of your acid trip with primary color markers in lines and dots. All these things are yours, not the world's. Unless your sadness is the world's sadness (more than likely it is not), like Michelangelo's Vatican Pieta, in which Mary's grief is our grief, then keep it to yourself. Unless your acid trip is the world's acid trip, like the Native American shaman's dream is the tribe's dream, then keep your poorly rendered rendition of your drug-induced experience to yourself.

I had mentioned in Part 1 the need to mythologize the expression of a work of art, but "mythologization" is a fairly loose term in my lexicon, so I will elaborate for clarity. One may use actual and ancient mythological figures, places, icons, and other elements to express an idea. For instant in Ivan Akimov's Saturn Clipping Cupid's Wings it is being expressed that time (Saturn/Chronos) cuts down all things (i.e. with his scythe), even love (Cupid). Of course this scene never actually occurs in Greek or Roman mythology, but using the symbols and icons of ancient myths Akimov is expressing that even love - something we think is immortal and eternal - can be destroyed by time. But then there is the case in which myths can be quasi-invented, "new" symbols used for a more personal, remote, isolated mythologization. Such is the case for William Blake, whose poetry and prose is filled with what is commonly called "Blake's complex mythology" (historians are not very clever at naming things). There is Adam (aka Albion, an old name for Britain, and is the original human) and Satan, a contrary pair, from whose union creates Tharmas (the instinct), Urizen (tradition), the Christ-like Luvah (love), and Los (imagination and inspiration). There is also their many manifestations and usages by Blake with a higher complex of virtues and traits that interact in a plethora of brilliant and beautiful, not to mention utterly confusing, ways. Blake expressed the French Revolution, America, the origins of England, the transcendence of good and evil, the Holy City of Jerusalem, et cetera using these mythologized elements. Salvador Dali is another fantastic example of personal mythologization, like Blake.

The mythologization of the content expressed in art is what gives it its longevity, allows it to live beyond the decadence of personal expression, and renders the framework through which a culture may heal. Without myth-ish elements cultural art suffers temporality, fatality, and cannot live beyond the first public expression of the work. Myth gives art its timelessness, its perceived immortality.

Understanding the difference between personal art and cultural art - the former being a form of self-healing through personal expression, the latter being a form of social and cultural healing and regeneration through mythological and culturally symbolical expression - is the means to creating true art once again, and to put aside the caprice and hubris of awful art.

This is only a an extreme suggestion, just as Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra was an extreme suggestion, to illustrate a point. Just like Nietzsche, I would be appalled if anything I have here espoused would be literally and tyrannically enacted, even by unanimous cultural consent, and the artists themselves adopt it. I fear such a program of annihilating personal expression in art for the whole world to see. Are Michelangelo's love poems not beautiful? Emily Dickinson' poetry of love and death not poignant and captivating? Or Johnny Cashes songs? Expressionistic painting? Lost in Translation? And so forth and so forth. I fear what would be lost, and at what cost is it worth for such a sacrifice. Perhaps it's worth it, perhaps not, perhaps the problem is too wicked to untangle.