Architects shall inherit the earth
Architects might as well give up; they have succeeded.
Architecture has not just tried hard to keep up with modern life, it tried to
set the trend. To do this it has worked hard to “theorise its agenda” and place
itself in the universe of conceptual space and its success has been brilliant.
Architecture has become a philosophical abstraction. It has forged relations
with other disciplines through clever analogies and now it is so intricately
connected to everything else that architecture has become the universe. Everything is architecture and architecture
is everything. Those relative newcomers on the horizon, the computer people
who also call themselves architects and who are out there looking hungry, the
nameless youngsters with their weird and wonderful way of talking and their
extraordinary riches have claimed the word that we have been so generous with.
And good luck to them! What matters, is that we have been generous. Not only should we not be surprised, we should
not even regret the fact. Architects, hartschitec….
What’s in a name? Utech ya hartschitec,
and I hope you are happy with it. The theft of the name architecture is peculiarly
appropriate. After all, even in our more narrow sense of the word, architecture
has come to mean the building of intricate concepts in concrete and steel:
Venturi’s Ducks. So many buildings are brave and witty representations of
metaphysical twists; they do everything to transcend or contradict their own
limitations and the limitations of their creators. Buildings have become
representations as subtle and finely argued as the all-consuming philosophical
systems conceived by the great Thomas Aquinas. In fact Peter Eisenman is or was
(is he dead yet?) our Thomas Aquinas,
so happily absorbed with the number of angels poised upon a pin. He makes
himself look so clever, so amusing, and if you bother to read the buildings sympathetically,
so rich, especially when, unbuilt, they retain the ambiguity of the unwritten
text. In our own generosity with the name
architecture, we have given away the clothes on our body and have discovered
that we like being naked. Gone are all the special marks by which we could be
identified. When Immanuel Kant first used the word “architectonic” in relation
to his philosophy we felt so flattered, so pleased, so universal. Now our
universality has given us a profession without a name. Yes, we are allowed to
keep the one we used to lay exclusive claim to, but only through the
disinterest of the true owners, the real conquerors. Perhaps, in our imperial
nakedness, in our discovery that we look like everyone else without clothes on,
we should now be brave enough to go back to square one. Architecture should go
through a systematic reduction to find itself under the pile of dirty washing
that has been discarded after the glorious orgiastic striptease party that was
the twentieth century.
How should we go about this systematic reduction? One thing
is certain: not as if this century never happened. God forbid! No, instead we
should cherish our hangover, it is the evidence: “We were there; see my eyes,
they are bloodshot with tears and laughter!” We must use this century’s
profound lessons wisely while concentrating on the purpose of making good
buildings. Buildings that “build” our faith in ourselves, buildings that do
this on the premise that everyone should have a place for their own dignity and
well-being. After all, what is wrong with human beans?[1]
We have a right to be here, we are part of the creation too…. Can we help it
that our modicum of intelligence has brought us to both edges of our own
imagination: the edge of disaster and the edge of the great mysteries? Of
course we can. Therein lies our power. And architecture has the power to make
places to live and work, well.
[1] Forgive the
reference to Roald Dahl’s BFG.