The Classical versus the Gothic

L’église Saint-Eustache, Paris

The typical narrative regarding the origins of Gothic architecture is that it was an evolution of the Romanesque, itself a debased form of Roman Classicism. There is undoubtedly a measure of truth to this description as we can readily verify that much detailed Classical architectural understanding was lost during the Early Mediæval period whilst a measure of knowledge of means and methods did indeed pass through the Romanesque into the Gothic era. That being admitted, what is often overlooked or at least not fully accredited is the incredible architectural innovation of the Gothic period.

Despite a few interesting attempts to merge them towards the end of the period, Gothic architecture was decidedly not a derivative variant of the Classical at all as it was founded on entirely unique principles that the following quick comparison will well illustrate.

Adaptation vs. Innovation

The monumental Classical* as we've come to best know it proceeds from the Renaissance essentially having adapted two forms: the Roman basilica and the Roman temple, the respective seats of temporal and eternal power (although such civic architecture as theatres, colossae, triumphal arches, etc. have contributed their minor influences). Initially, it was the basilica form that was Christianised in the Constantinian, late Roman Empire period for the seats of the bisphoric, in many cases constructing new prominent churches whose bishop physically occupied the tribunal-converted-to-altar, wielding much of the temporal power formerly pertaining to the magistrates, a secular architecture consisting of a large rectangular nave and side aisles adapted to religious, Christian use.

By far the most adapted Roman form during and subsequent to the Renaissance was the Roman temple. A few notable temples were refashioned and dedicated to Christian use already in antiquity. However, Christian religious service differed considerably from that of the pagan Romans whose interiors were reserved for the exclusive use of the priests. Interiors were comparatively small and devoid of light, thus being of ill use for a congregation and Christian services. Nevertheless, by modifying a basilica plan with a temple façade this modified Roman temple/basilica hybrid became the dominant building type for ecclesiastical, civic, university, and eventually commercial architecture.

La Maison Carrée, Nimes

 

By contrast, the Gothic was not an adapted architecture of Roman types. Many parish churches and especially cathedrals were almost exclusively laid out according to a cruciform plan. Likewise, the chapels, ambulatories, and choirs typical of these houses of worship were bespoke, the function of these spaces integral to the floor plan from which the walls and roof would unfold so that the elevations were adapted to the function of the cathedral, not the other way around as was typical of Neoclassical architecture. The same general principle permeated the design of collegiate, civic, and the manor houses of the Gothic period. 

Wood vs. Stone

Although lost to antiquity, the origin of Classical architecture is almost assuredly timber and earth. Due to the fugitive nature of the materials, none of the ancient buildings of the Greeks and Etruscans, (from which the Romans derived much of their own architecture), remain to us. What does remain are many of the later stone temples that emulate expressively the original joists, rafters and other construction components in stone. A common feature is the pseudoperipteral pilastres or engaged columns of many Neoclassical monumental buildings that serve no structural purpose whatsoever. This was a characteristic dating back to Roman architecture such as the 1st century La Maison Carrée pictured above. Romans did make efforts through the use of arches and vaults to take advantage of the inherent property of stone that it is very strong in compression.

However, Gothic buildings for the elevations originated as a construction that fully took advantage of the compressive strength of stone. The characteristic pointed and lancet arches are far more effective for distributing lateral forces to the ground and taking pressure off the supporting walls. Groin vaulting based on the same principles directed all gravitational force along the length of the ribs in compression through columns directly to the ground. Combined with a system of buttresses and pinnacles Gothic architecture was able to reach unfathomable elevations and open up the interior as the walls had only to support their own weight. Gothic represents the very nadir of monolithic stone masonry.

Cologne Cathedral

Horizontal vs. Vertical

L' église Saint-Gervais

The Parthenon is undoubtedly the example par excellence of Classical architecture. Despite the fact that its cella is surrounded with a forest of vertical Doric columns the comparatively low width to height ratio, the low pitched roof, and large entablature establish it to the eye as a predominantly horizontal architecture. This is characteristic of Classical architecture in general. There are only a couple of design moves that can be utilised to give it a more vertical character and they come with aesthetic consequences. The first of these is superposition, hierarchically stacking one order of architecture over another, typically from the Tuscan or Doric ascending to the Corinthian order. The difficulty is always the same, each order is terminated with an entablature, reasserting the horizontal appearance of the building even for façades that are overall very vertical in their orientation.

In the Gothic, even for rather low buildings such as dormitories for monasteries and abbeys the vertical character of the design is maintained, restricting the entablatures, string courses, and drip moulds to an appropriate size needed to protect the façade from erosion. Likewise the true sources of structural support such as the buttresses and pinnacles are enriched and celebrated rather than standardised or hidden.

Mosteiro Da Batalha

Magnification vs. Multiplication

St Mel's Cathedral, Longford

Alternative tools for Neoclassical monumental verticality are colossal orders of architecture and towers. Because the Classical orders strictly adhere to a fixed proportional relationship of the various elements, creating tall colonnades and porticoes is a simple matter of magnifying those elements. Towers for Neoclassical buildings always present a challenge. Either they are placed in front of the building or are placed further back, over the crossing.

Gothic structures on the other hand maintain the human scale for even very large and high piers by subdividing them with colonettes either in compound or clustered arrangement. These are placed so as to align with and receive the thrust of the ribs holding up the vaults. Gothic towers may be found either over the crossing or at one side or more often in pairs flanking the façade. Unless left uncompleted, Gothic towers are always intended to receive a spire.

There are many other differing details that could be elaborated upon such as the rather low pitch of Classical roofs compared to the typical steepness of Gothic roofs, the tendency for large constructive elements in monumental Classical structures in contrast to the composition of Gothic buildings from smaller ones, the proportionally smaller windows in Classical buildings in comparision to Gothic examples which are almost always splayed inside and out. The point is not to pit these incredible traditions against each other, rather to recognise that they have different origins and are perhaps best suited to certain climates and for their own purposes.

*I use the term 'Neoclassical' to architecture in the Classical styles including and proceeding from its revival in the Renaissance

Contributed by Patrick Webb

The Pulvinar, Angulated and Angular Forms of the Ionic Capital

Pulvinar Volute

Owing to a recent commission of a bespoke Ionic pilaster capital with angular volutes, this subject has been very much on my mind. Having previously considered the history, unique ornamentation as well as the anthropomorphic and proportional theories of the Ionic Order, in this essay we'll make an even more detailed examination of it's most identifying feature: the large and very conspicuous volutes. There are really two distinct ways of constructing the capital and a hybrid version developed by the Greeks that I quite like. I suppose that technically the designations pulvinar, angulated and angular are intended to describe the volutes only; nevertheless, in pracitse they're often used to refer to the entire capital and I'll alternate between both usages here. We'll start our consideration with the most commonly occurring or 'standard' Ionic capital: the pulvinar.

The Pulvinar Ionic Volute

Portico, Jefferson Memorial

The word 'pulvinus' comes directly from Latin and it means 'cushion' or 'pillow' or alternatively the swelling of the stem at the base of a leaf. In architectural and craft usage the pulvinus may also be referred to as a 'bolster' as it resembles an extended cushion or scroll that connects the front and rear volutes of the capital. This version of the Ionic capital’s front and rear elevations differ from its side elevations. This can sometimes result in awkward transitions with the pulvinar side of the capital  in elevation when  the columns turn the right, 90° corner such as typically encountered in deep porticos or peripteral (surrounded on all sides) colonnades. The following variation of the Ionic capital was developed by the Greeks to address this very problem.

The Angulated Ionic Volute

The Erechtheion
Stuart & Revett

On the Acropolis overlooking Athens, the Classical Greeks employed the 'angulated' solution on two of their temples dedicated to Athena: the famous Erechtheion and the Temple of Athena Nike. Instead of volutes expressed front and back, for the corner capitals they are placed front and side so as to face the exterior with the exterior corner volute extending out at a 45° angle. By contrast, the two sides of the corner capitals facing the interior are pulvinar in elevation, creating an awkward but largely unseen 90° collision of the inner volutes. This solution would continue to be occasionally employed by the Romans as well, a notable surviving example being the Temple Portunus along the Tiber.

Temple of Athena Nike

The Angular Ionic Volute

Arch of Septimius Severus

The Romans went on to develop an additional order that we now call the Composite whose capital combined the lower acanthus rows of the Corinthian with the large volutes of the Ionic. In doing so they took the angulated solution from the Greek Ionic and employed it for all four corners. This 'angular' design was then used for all the capitals of a colonnade not just the corner capital. They also applied this solution directly to the Ionic Order itself as is evidenced by the surviving example of a single colonnade of the Temple of Saturn.

Temple of Saturn, Rome

Scamozzi Ionic

It was really during the Late Renaissance that the angular Ionic came into widespread architectural use with the publishing of Vincenzo Scamozzi's monumental architectural treatise: L’Idea dell’Architettura Universale (The Idea of an Universal Architecture). Scamozzi was a student of Palladio, and his approach to the capital was well received by the British during their Palladian movement, most notably by architect James Gibbs with his own 18th century architectural treatise, Rules for Drawing the Several Parts of Architecture, that featured a "Scamozzi" type Ionic capital. This quite naturally found its way into the architecture of Colonial America and continued through American Independence.

With the overthrow of the Ottomans during the 19th century Greek war of Independence, increased opportunity was opened up for visiting Classical Greek archeological sites, ruins and remains. This sparked a massive revival of Greek architectural forms including their variations of the Ionic Order. As a result, we're quite blessed to have the full spectrum of Greek, Roman, Renaissance and beyond, including some incredibly creative and interesting variants available for our enjoyment such as my personal favourite, the "Cherubim" Angular Ionic of All Souls Church.

Contributed by Patrick Webb

The Ionic Order

Altar, Heraion of Samos

The name Ionic applied to this Classical Order of architecture derives both from the ancient territory of Ionia, its people and culture who dominated the greater region. The Ionian League thus came to refer to the first alliance of culturally Greek city-states coalescing in the 7th century B.C.E. as Greece was moving from its Archaic towards its Classic period. The league included ancient Ionia, Lydia, Aeolia and a number of islands off the coast of Asia Minor, constituting essentially the whole of Western Anatolia, modern day Turkey.

Although there are numerous examples of the Ionic Order throughout Classical Greece, the oldest examples of monumental Ionic stone temples are to be found in Anatolia of Archaical Greece and undoubtedly the pre-existing aesthetic influences on its development appear to come from further East and South.

Column Capital, Persepolis

The most conspicuous feature of the fully developed Classical Ionic Order is unquestionably the large spiral volutes of the column capitals. These certainly find precedent in the architecture of the Persian Empire, both adversary and trading partner of the Ionian Greeks. Likewise the Aeolians, prior to joining the league, had adapted their own Aeolic Order featuring prominent volutes that were taken more or less directly from their vital trading partners, the ancient Phoenicians.

Aeolic Column Capital

Although there are indications that the Ionic Order may have its tectonic origins in an earlier timber construction, archeologically it first appears more or less as a fully developed monolithic stone temple architecture by the 6th century B.C.E. Certainly refinements were to come; however, the stylobate, the surrounding peripteral colonnade, fluted columns as well as the details of the column capital such as the egg & dart, honeysuckle and swagged canalis of the joined volutes were already well articulated.

Column Capital at the Heraion of Samos, 6th century B.C.E.

Form Follows Femininity?

Erechtheion Ionic Capital

Greek temples built according to the Ionic Order certainly do have a different look and feel than those of the Doric Order. The proportions of the Ionic Order are more attenuated, the ornament loses the geometric character of the Doric Order in favour of more naturalistic and curvilinear forms. Marcus Pollio Vitruvius, 1st Century B.C.E. architectural theorist, claimed an anthropomorphic model as the Greek origin for the Ionic Order:

"Just so afterwards, when they desired to construct a temple to Diana (Greek Artemis) in a new style of beauty, they translated these footprints into terms characteristic of the slenderness of women, and thus first made a column the thickness of which was only one eighth of its height, so that it might have a taller look. At the foot they substituted the base in place of a shoe; in the capital they placed the volutes, hanging down at the right and left like curly ringlets, and ornamented its front with cymatia and with festoons of fruit arranged in place of hair, while they brought the flutes down the whole shaft, falling like the folds in the robes worn by matrons."

It is true that many of the Greek temples built according to the Ionic Order were dedicated to goddesses such as Hera and Artemis. The most splendid example of which, the Erechtheion, was dedicated to yet another goddess, Athena. The porch of the Erechtheion makes a compelling case for the anthropomorphic origin story, as the matronly Caryatids act as substitutes for the columns of what is clearly an Ionic Order elevation. Admittedly, the Greeks also erected temples in the Ionic Order dedicated to the gods Apollo and Dionysos, although it could be claimed these two were the most effeminate of the major male deities. Whatever truth there is or otherwise to the anthropomorphic attribution, it certainly does weave an entertaining narrative and serves as an useful memory aid in distinguishing some of the various Classical Orders principal features.

The Caryatid Porch of the Erechtheion

As a System of Proportion

Elevation of the Five Orders of Architecture
Giacomo da Vignola, 1562

Another way of thinking about the Ionic Order is as a system of proportion. We already saw Vitruvius describe the proportional relationship of the Greek Ionic column as, "the thickness of which was only one eighth of its height." Interestingly, Vitruvius departs from this, personally promoting an even more attenuated version having a 1:9 ratio. One characteristic of all of the Renaissance treatises that followed was to continue presenting the Orders as highly rationalised systems whose fundamental unit of measurement was derived from the base radius or diametre (the module) of the given column. The elevations of the column, entablature, optional pedestal etc., as well as intercolumniation were all  proportional relationships derived from this base module.

Italian architectural theorist Giacomo da Vignola leaned heavily upon the Roman architectural treatise of Vitruvius, maintainng his 1:9, base diametre:height ratio. Others drew their justification on more archeological grounds either from what they considered an archetypal exemplar or a weighted average of various examples. As the territory of Ancient Greece was occupied by the Ottoman Turks during the Renaissance, the theorists were left with only Roman examples to draw from. What they generally concluded was that the orders progressed proportionally in attenuation from the rather solid Tuscan to the comparatively slender Composite with the Ionic right in the middle.

Comparative Ionic Orders. Robert Chitham, 1985

Elements and Enrichment

Ashmolean Museum, Oxford

Although not typically as ornamentally enriched as the Corinthian or Composite, the Ionic Order is hardly sparse. The projecting cornice of the entablature of the cornice is usually though not universally denticulated, that is to say supported by a row of dental blocks acting as an allusion to rafter tails in timber construction. The frieze is often ornamented and occasionally pulvinated or given a convex shape.

The capitals typically have a row of egg & dart as well as honeysuckle emanating from the volutes although there are exceptions for every rule and radical variations are possible and potentially quite interesting. Of course, the most visibly identifying feature of the Order are the large spiral volutes of the column capitals. There are many methods for laying these spirals out although two figure prominently in Renaissance and later treatises. Furthermore, the small details concerning the breadth of the fillets, depth of the canales, the spring and alignment of the spiral make for near infinite variety.

Well, we've already seem some hints of it in some of the images. In my followup to this essay we'll consider a particular variation of the Ionic Order, the Angular or sometimes commonly referred to as Scamozzi version of the Ionic.


Contributed by Patrick Webb

The Tuscan Order

Villa Giulia, Rome

In many of the 'canons', that is to say the widely accepted treatises of Renaissance architecture, there are given five 'orders' of Classical architecture, the Tuscan order typically presented first among them. The very adoption of the term 'Classical' itself in referencing all things of Greco-Roman antiquity appears to be a 17th century French approbation of the Latin classis that historically referred to things 'called out' or 'set aside', with notable reference to the orders or divisions of taxation established by the pre-Republican Roman monarchy. Today we have the common use of the related word 'class' as a division of students set aside for specific education and again 'classical' in the setting apart of things generally recognised as truly excellent, Greco-Roman or otherwise.

In architectural academia there has persisted controversy over whether or not the Tuscan should really be regarded as a distinct order or if it is nothing more than a stripped down or simpler version of the Doric order. A similar argument is made regarding the Composite or so-called Roman order, that has conversely been claimed as just a more elaborate version of the Corinthian order. Certainly all of the Roman orders share a familial resemblance and of course are referential to the Greek orders from which they were developed. However, I'll take the position here that there are in fact enough differences to justify a separate classification of the Tuscan order beginning with a brief historical overview.

The Etruscans

The Tuscan order is ostensibly referential to the architecture of the Etruscan people who dominated the Italic peninsula until Rome was finally able to overcome them in the 4th century B.C. Temples presented the highest expression of Etruscan architectural refinement. As temple foundations were built in stone we have a very good understanding of how they were organised in plan. The precise composition of the elevations is less clear although some idea can be gleaned from pictorial depictions such as found on ostraca (decorated potshards), sarcophagi as well as frescoes.

Etruscan temple at Orvieto

A few Etruscan tectonic characteristics were definitely distinct from the Greeks and would be adopted by the Romans for all of their architectural orders. Whereas the single cella or inner sanctum of a typical Greek temple was surrounded by a stylobate (series of steps) and peripteral colonnade (the columns being present along the entire perimeter of the building), the Etruscans lifted their temples upon a podium with a stair leading to the entrances of three cellae. Columns were only used at this entrance, placed in a double row underneath a large portico whilst the cellae walls extended to the exterior. Timber members for the entablature allowed for greater intercolumniation (spacing of the columns) than was feasible for the stone architecture of Greece.

Model courtesy of Istituto di Etruscologia e di Antichita Italiche, Universita di Roma

Tuscan capital? Colosseum

However, the Tuscan order as presented in the treatises of the Renaissance and arguably expressed in Roman architecture itself is not precisely antique Etruscan. Additionally, there are certainly commonalities between the Renaissance Tuscan and Roman Doric orders. So how might one make a distinction? Following are three tools, lenses or perspectives that might prove useful when used in conjunction with one another.





A System of Proportion

Elevation of the Five Orders of Architecture
Claude Perrault, 1683

One characteristic of all of the Renaissance treatises was that the orders were presented as highly rationalised systems whose fundamental unit of measurement was derived from the base radius or diametre (the module) of the given order. The elevations of the column, entablature, optional pedestal etc., as well as intercolumniation were all  proportional relationships derived from this base module. Whereas some authors leaned heavily upon the Roman architectural treatise of Vitruvius, others drew their justification on more archeological grounds either from what they considered an archetypal exemplar or a weighted average of various examples. All of these authors seemed to temper such authority from antiquity with their own judgement and reason. What they generally concluded was that the orders progressed proportionally in attenuation from the rather solid (if not squat) Tuscan to the comparatively slender Composite.

Granted, even in theory there was a wide range of interpretation available and more so in practise. The various authors were not always in agreement. In arguably the first major treatise of the Renaissance containing engraved plates, Sebastiano Serlio presents a very squat Tuscan order whose base diameter to column height ratio was 1:6. Vincenzo Scamozzi and Claude Perrault would subsequently present comparatively slender Tuscan orders at a ratio of 1:7½. Likewise a wide variety is seen in proportions of entablatures and pedestals in relation to the module. What remained consistent was that as the orders progressed they would become proportionally more attenuated with the Tuscan order always being the most solid amongst them.

Comparitive Tuscan Orders. Robert Chitham, 1985

An Anthropomorphic Model

Jacques-François Blondel
circa 1771

Another way to imagine an architectural order is anthropomorphically, that is to say attributing human qualities to inanimate objects. The 1st century B.C. Roman architect Marcus Vitruvius certainly did this by offering origin myths and relating column to human proportions to indicate their appropriateness for temples dedicated to a particular god or goddess. The Doric order was to express a robust masculinity, reflecting the proportions of a warrior or demi-god such as Hercules. At the other extreme, the Corinthian being considerably slender was to reflect the figure of a young maiden.

Palazzo Davia Bargellini, Bologna

Rather than seeking anatomical precision, these myths and comparisons continue to serve as entertaining and helpful memory aids regarding the character and proportions of the various orders. Architects of the Renaissance, the Baroque, all the way into the Beaux Artes period picked up and expanded upon these anthropomorphic associations. What interpretation remained for the Tuscan? Rough and tumble for sure. That of a Titan, an Atlas who carries the burden of the building quite literally on his back!






Elements and Enrichment

As a general rule the Tuscan exhibits less refinement than the other orders. Although there are superficial differences between the Tuscan and Doric, an often distinguishing feature are the shafts of the columns. Tuscan columns are always either smooth or rusticated whereas the Doric are typically fluted. Likewise the Tuscan tends to have less elemental subdivisions and has proportionally chunkier elements in the pedestal, base, capital, and entablature. Also, a fully expressed Doric will have geometrically ornamented elements throughout the frieze and richly sculpted enrichments in the metopes between tryglyphs. By contrast the Tuscan is almost always plain profile throughout its entablature. Modillions or brackets are seldom utilised in the cornice and if so they are very simply wrought.

Radcliffe Camera, Oxford

If ornament is applied, typically it will be carved in high relief to be placed in the spandrels of an arcade or the the tympanum of the pediment, in notable contrast to the sparse or even rough character of the façade. It is very common to find the Tuscan order highly rusticated. Often times the Tuscan is solely implied at the ground storey by its relative proportion and heavy rustication (without the use of columns) in buildings where ashlar masonry and more refined orders are used above.

Although the Tuscan often gets berated as being a 'made up' order or just a stripped Doric, it really has its own distinct character and bears more consideration and study, particularly as it continues to be the most commonly specified of the Classical orders in residential architecture today.

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Contributed by Patrick Webb

On Pattern Design in Architecture

Spaceship Earth

As a traditional craftsman, particularly in my experience as an ornamental plasterer, I often find my work lies at the intersection of two distinct approaches to design: pattern and architectural. I've observed that in contemporary architecture there is a great deal of confusion as to how the two different thought processes can be brought to bear on an unified architectural scheme. Today they are very often simply conflated, an effect quite detrimental to architecture as I will seek to illustrate.

Pattern Design

With three centuries of advances in industrial printing and weaving processes and the late 20th century move from analog to digital graphic technology, pattern design has asserted a dominance unmatched at any previous time in human history. Nevertheless, the fundamental basis for pattern design has remained unchanged: the articulation of space. By space I mean to imply that which is free, unbounded, infinite, spiritual, heavenly...Space.

The Singularity

The point: in concept, location without dimension. By extension from the source, the origin we have emanation, expansion. The germinating seed, an all encompassing unity. In ornamental design, this has been traditionally represented in imitation of nature: the flower, the star, the all seeing eye.

Private Residence

In much of modern architecture we can see this tendency to apply pattern design to the entirety of the building itself, the building as a giant ornament or manifestation of pattern. The geodesic dome pictured above provides an example of a deliberate intention to create a sense of something from space. Both the shape and choice of highly refined metallic cladding convey a perfect yet alien quality. In more pedestrian contexts spheres are expensive to construct, difficult to live or work in so more often we see built the hyper-rectilinear equivalent, the cube or orthotope. A spatially isolated, unbounded, self-contained unity situated in a 3D Cartesian matrix. 
The Ray

The line introduces concepts of dimension, direction, polarity, duality, separation. Left/right, above/below, inside and out. With the line comes the potentiality of repetition, whereas carried to an extreme results in monotony. Much commercial architecture today takes on this graphically linear aspect not unlike ruled paper, horizontal lines suspended in space, unbounded and framing nothing, the eye seeking in vain for resolution.

The Plane

With surface comes the ability to manifest texture, interlace and interlock becomes most evident and  a second dimension allows the formation of webs and nets. The plane is the bread and butter of graphic design: wallcoverings, rugs, textiles, tiles, wrapping papers to name a few. For decades we were subjected to the most boring, unrelenting glass boxes of government and commerce. We didn't know how good we had it. Today's buildings are typically "jazzed up", pushing windows in and out, switching up sizes and orientations, or spacing them randomly. The façade is viewed as nothing more than a canvas for various decontextualized textures constrained within a rectilinear grid wallpapered onto the same old boxes.

The Tessellation

For pattern design, the third dimension represents the pinnacle of spatial mastery. A clear comprehension of mass and void, light and shadow as well as the ability to fill three dimensions volumetrically with regular pattern is undeniably special. It's understandable to imagine applications in the field of architecture. Modern architecture has taken this in two basic directions. There is the undefined mass that actually rejects overall pattern, lacks any definable boundaries and features only a minuscule, localized surface pattern that will morph to any contour. Also common is the mash up of all the previously mentioned misapplications of pattern design to architecture. Extruded orthotopes are piled up seemingly at random, a mercilessly incessant tangle of lines and grids.

For all of the faux pas' of the recent past, I would contend that pattern design is both compatible with architectural design and has much to contribute. To do so we should consider how architectural design differs and how pattern design has and can continue to perform a very successful supporting role.

Architectural Design

The tectonic or constructive aspect of architectural design has been for millennia and ought to remain primarily about gravity. Secondarily, limits are set while possibilities encouraged by climate (temperature), weather (humidity and precipitation) and terroir (local soil and materials). Granted we're crisscrossing the globe with materials nowadays so perhaps we can temporarily ignore the use of local materials (to our increasing peril). Yet gravity is unrelenting, she imposes and restricts form and structure so that architecture must be grounded in the material and quite literally in the Earth. Attempts to circumvent this are only an affected style, one that is incongruent with reality and thus disturbing. Pattern design ought always be subordinate, not in extreme and defiant aesthetic conflict with the gravitational, earthbound nature of architectural design.

Mondoñedo Cathedral

Points, circles and spheres inevitably become concentrated areas of focus. They draw us to the center. It's only fair that the viewer should be rewarded upon arrival. The rose windows of Romanesque and Gothic cathedrals provide stunning examples of placing the finest handwork, most delicate arrangements of carving and color right where we're most apt to look. Notwithstanding, they're not overly insistent. The gaze can easily withdraw and the window will comfortably fit into the overall architectural composition.

The Lincoln Memorial is a Classic example of the mastery of linear pattern applied to architecture. The repetition of vertical lines of the columns gives a clear indication of stability and support. The incised flutes only serve to bolster the feeling. Between stylobate and the capitals the lines of the columns are clearly bounded. Richly ornamented, the horzontal bands of the entablature and attic hold visual interest; however, they are also contained within a series of bounded frames that permit the eyes to rest and once again establish a unified composition.

Drawing on long established vernacular traditions, Arts & Crafts homes such as the Red House designed by Philip Webb for William Morris avoid rationalizing the exterior and naturally arrive at a façade filled with variety and visual interest. The surface is not reliant on any jarring tricks to stimulate the senses. Rather the restrained aesthetic is filled with similar details at a range of scales. Even the materials selected are textured and lively, notably the bricks laid in common bond with English corners.

Saint Petersburg Mosque

I think the absolute mastery of tessellation applied to architecture without contest belongs to Islamic architecture. The muqarnas of palaces and mosques are simply breathtaking. Islamic architecture in general is rich in color and pattern. The underlying philosophy purposefully utilizes point, line, plane and 3D tessellations to express the infinitude of the divine. It is important to note that what makes all of this exuberance coherent and comprehensible is Islamic architecture's expert use of framing and boundaries. Even this apparent superabundance of pattern remains subordinate to the architectural design.

Despite having a great love for pattern design and using it extensively in my own work, I believe architectural design taught essentially as a rationalized discipline of the articulation of space has been very damaging. We don't live in space, an abstract concept of nothingness. Rather, we inhabit a rich material reality. Even the air we breathe engages the senses with texture and scent, is a medium for light, warmth and sound. Our collective architectural heritage is clear evidence that pattern and architectural design are not necessarily antagonistic. Quite to the contrary, we need architectural design to reassert its position at the forefront of design in our built environment. An architecture rooted in nature and the earth that pattern loving craftsmen like myself can support with our hands and our hearts.

Interested in more content on a Philosophy of Craft?

Please visit my YouTube channel: A Craftsman's Philosophy

Contributed by Patrick Webb

Classicism's Status Quo

The Fire of Rome, Hubert Robert - 1765

I want to begin by saying that the use of 'status quo' is not meant to be pejorative, rather a literal recall to the Latin meaning: 'the state of which' Classicism, the contemporary related ideologies based upon Greco-Roman and Western Classical traditions and specifically Classicism as applied to architecture, currently finds itself.

With that clarification in order, I want to use this essay to address a historical question, a contemporary question as well as open a dialogue around the possible future, even resurgence of the Classical tradition, namely:

What became of Classicism's dominance?
What is the status quo of Classicism?
What are the preconditions for a future Classical Renaissance?

The Coup de Grâce

By 476 A.D. the physical city of Rome had decayed into little more than a desiccated husk of its former glory. The sack at the hands of the barbarians was simply a 'coup de grâce', a merciful stroke to end the miserable sufferings of an imploded civilization. Still, Classical traditions simmered in the Eastern empire, among the conquering barbarians, with the church. For a thousand years this was expressed architecturally through broad styles manifesting Classical influences that we now call Romanesque, Gothic and even Islamic. And so, in the 15th century long stirrings began to fluoresce into the recognizable period of Classical Renaissance. The death stroke didn't take.

For four centuries, from the 15th thru the 19th, Classicism again dominated the culture and architecture of Western civilization. However, by the early 20th century she had given out. There was no dramatic finale, no violent conflagration. She had simply collapsed from exhaustion.

What happened? In a word, Industrialization. I know that some of you will protest that Industrialization is inseparable from the progress of science, capitalism, revolution and the philosophies that gave rise to them. I don't dispute that; however, I maintain the position that these and other developments all coalesce into the physical transformation of our world and human culture that is Industrialization. The great intellects of Classical antiquity: Plato, Aristotle, Cicero and Vitruvius; none of them could have foreseen or prepared us for the havoc that industry would and continues to wreak with human culture. It is completely unprecedented.

The Status Quo

Architectural Classicism, that is to say the contemporary ideologies based on the building traditions of Classical antiquity and the Renaissance, continues to lean heavily for its intellectual underpinnings upon the writings of Vitruvius, Alberti and a handful of other theorists from the Beaux Arts up until the present. Virtually all of them have operated within the tripartite maxim of firmness, commodity and delight. Classicism concerns itself almost exclusively with the formal articulation and refinement of the built environment. That is hardly a criticism, yet at the same time it is no longer sufficient.

For the ancients and Renaissance men, materials and craftsmen were more or less taken for granted. Wood, stone, bricks, plaster and to a lesser degree glass and iron were the materials of architecture and armies of skilled craftsmen supplied them. Similarly, social structures were fixed around a craft or maker economy. The concept of consumable goods applied mostly to food. Architecture was certainly not a consumable even for the very wealthy. There was simply little thought to write about either materials, the craftsmen making them or how their work might contribute to their personal happiness or a better society. It was tradition, it was just how things were and had always been.

However, by the 19th century it became evident that was not how things were to remain. John Ruskin, William Morris and other leading thinkers of the Arts & Crafts movement fiercely campaigned for the constraint of industry to protect the joy that humans experienced in making and the intrinsic social value embedded in traditions. In stark contrast Adolf Loos, Walter Gropius and other leaders of emergent Modernism fully embraced industry and a progressive consumer economy whose surpluses would eliminate what they stigmatized as useless toil. During the same period Classicists largely ignored the social questions and the material qualities of their work, continuing to focus on its formal qualities and further refinements. An examination of period literature reveals that as a collective intelligentsia Classicists had completely missed participation let alone leadership through the most significant transition in human civilization and by the 20th century had become intellectually irrelevant. All that remained were the industrial war efforts to destroy by violence the Arts and Crafts movement, severely diminish Classicism, and lift Modernism to ascendancy in academia and practice as industry's sole hand maiden.

The social, tectonic, ecological and increasingly economical failings of a built environment, now dominated for 70 years by Industrial Modernism, has begun to open up narrow opportunities for at least the consideration of revisiting traditional architectural solutions. Lifted on the crest of Post-Modernism, Classicism has made a small but significant resurgence, particularly in the luxury residential market and likewise has made minor inroads to claiming some presence in academia. Yet, after a couple of decades of growth Classicism has seemed to more or less plateau as a stable if minority participant in the contemporary built environment. What gives?

The Dialogue 

I contend that collectively, as a movement contemporary Classicism still has her head in the sand as far as addressing in an organized fashion the ethical, social, economic, ecology and material questions raised by Industrialization with anything resembling the vigor and coherence of the traditional formal arguments. That being said many individual Classicists are very agitated about the lack of dialogue on some or all of these issues and the stagnation of growth. We cannot look to Vitruvius or Palladio for answers to this current dilemma. Industrialization is unique to our time and we have to address the broad issues it raises on our own. We have to create our own Renaissance.

There are a few, really considered at the fringe of Classicism, that are leading this conversation. Among them I would count myself, bringing a perspective picking up and expanding upon the work developed by the Arts and Crafts movement. Also, I would reference Christopher Alexander and Léon Krier with their respective colleagues. Basically, at these early stages of development I see at least two distinct approaches developing.

First, Classicism's complete embrace of industry, simply displacing Modernism as the preeminent formal language of our built environment without any vigorous attempt at addressing the aforementioned issues, at least for the time being. Emergent advances in automated algorithmic design and robotic production including various 3D technologies are pointed to as means to convert Classicism to the favored consumable architectural product of a global industrial market. Personally I do not favor this approach, at all, not even a little bit as it relegates Classicism to a mere affected style of a rationalized constructed environment, an abandonment of the deeply humanistic germinating power of growth at it's core.

Instead I see Classicism as reasserting its traditional nature. Traditions only pertain to humans, the placing of knowledge in the commons to be shared with successive generations. Local materials and building customs were embedded in the 'genus loci', the Classical 'spirit of the place'. With cheap, proprietary industrial alternatives and construction systems, materials can no longer be taken for granted. Classicism today must build a philosophy around material qualities in addition to formal ones. Furthermore, it is time for Classicism to take the lead in reconciling the seemingly opposite terms of 'ecology' and 'economy'. The Classical Greek root 'eco', 'oikos' (οῖκος) conveyed the sense of home but more than that also of an extended family and estate. Therefore, ecology (logia, λογία) concerns itself with the knowledge of the familial estate needed for the economy (nómos, νόμος), the sustainable management of our living environment, natural and built. This familial consideration concerns itself not just with what things are built but how they are built, who is building them and how that process or hopefully tradition contributes to their happiness as a contributing individual as well as the collective good of human society taking its place in the greater order of the natural world.

Whichever perspective you lean towards or perhaps independently bring to the dialogue the most important thing for Classicism now is that we start talking.

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Contributed by Patrick Webb

Architectural Word of the Day; 111 - 120

CROCKET, CROPSE

The regularly spaced buds or bunched foliage along the arrises of a Gothic pinnacle or gable. The blossoming crown terminating the peak is called a cropse.  

PINNACLE

In Gothic architecture, pinnacles occur as groups of shafts at or above the roof line most often terminated with a pyramid, frequently but not universally enriched. 

VOLUTE

A logarithmic spiral scroll, inspired by the unfurling of fauna as well as the growth patterns of horns and shells. This Art Deco example provides quite simply an embarrassment of riches! 

SPIRE, BROACH

A slender, typically octagonal pyramid set atop a square tower. In church architecture it stands as the crowning element of the steeple.

The pyramidal transition between the spire and the tower is called the broach.

BOLSTER, PULVINUS

The roll resembling a cushion that connects the front and rear volutes of an Ionic capital. The Romans used the term"Pulvinus" because of the resemblance to the swelling of the stem at the base of a leaf.

The detailed hand tooling on this limestone example is quite amazing. 30 feet below the texture it creates with the refraction of light endows the work with depth and life.

TEMPUS FUGIT

"But meanwhile it flees: time flees irretrievably, while we wander around, prisoners of our love of detail." - Virgil 

ORIEL

A bay window or, as in this example, a turret that is corbeled and projecting from the main structure. Its of old French origin thought to derive from the medieval Latin "oriolum" meaning porch, gallery. 













Contributed by Patrick Webb