Inland Steel Building, Chicago

Summary of “Deep Space, Thin Walls: Environmental and Material Precursors to the Postwar Skyscraper

In this piece, the authors explore the technological advancements starting around the 1930s that enabled new designs for office spaces in tall building, and ultimately argue that the development of the skyscraper was fundamentally tied to technical realms outside of architecture itself. Throughout the essay, they trace a couple of major shifts. First, office spaces in tall buildings used to be arranged around a central core where stairs, elevators, and restrooms were located so that light from windows would reach offices; but after the war they began evolving into new forms that prioritized electric lighting and air conditioning, which enabled offices to retreat deeper into the center of the floorplan. At the same time, buildings evolved to utilize more glass and aluminum facades as opposed to more traditional masonry. The authors argue that these shifts were ultimately significant advances, despite roadblocks and failures that made their adoption gradual. Glass was essentially a handcrafted material in the early 1900s, but during midecentury various companies made advances that made it easier to produce plates of glass, combined two panes sealed together to improve insulation, and adjusted chemical components to improve heat resistance. Air conditioning and electric lighting both went through similar iterative processes to become more commercially viable. Overall, the development of what we recognize as the classic skyscraper was not linear, and was shaped by a variety of economic, technical, scientific, and political factors.

Summary of “The Tall Office Building Artistically Considered”

In this refreshingly straightforward (if slightly utopian) magazine article from 1896, Louis Sullivan argues that the design of tall office buildings is an opportunity for architects to embrace form’s natural tendency to follow function while advancing the field to become a fine art “of the people, for the people, and by the people.” Bypassing the social conditions that necessitated the development of tall office buildings, Sullivan immediately introduces their design as a vital problem to be solved. In his view, these buildings have a clear formula: a basement mechanical area, a ground floor devoted to business that require large spaces and easy access, a second floor that’s still easily accessible and fairly open, subsequent floors all laid out the same, and an attic space for ventilation/recirculation of the air. He also argues that there’s rarely any aesthetic component in the arrangement of these floor plans. In its most simple form, any tall office building should be interpreted as lofty, powerful, and proud—to design these buildings is a magnificent opportunity. Despite these basic ideas, discourse on the subject varies. Some suggest the classical column as a model for the design, while others adhere to the idea of the mystical trinity for balance in design. Others suggest taking inspiration from organic forms. Sullivan seems to fall into this last camp, arguing that the forms of everything in nature are determined by their inner life. Thus, we should design according to the natural law that form always follows function. Rather than adorning our tall office buildings with disparate ornamental facades, we should strive for simple and uniform structures based upon these buildings’ overall purpose.

Summary of “Space”

More focused on philosophical ideas than purely historical details, Adrian Forty argues in this piece that while “space” is often regarded as a defining characteristic of architecture, it also paradoxically evades definition, and the discourse around it ultimately stems from capitalist ruling powers’ need to present an uncontested account of their dominance over space. At the tip of the iceberg, Forty explains that “space” simultaneously exists as a physical property and as a property of the mind. This idea really started with German philosophers, and the confusing plethora of meanings for “space” can be traced back to Raum—the German word for “space” which can mean a literal room or a philosophical concept.  In architecture, “space” can be interpreted in a myriad of ways. It can be seen as a literal enclosure, or a kind of  mental intuition regarding the relations of objects. According to Nietzsche, it’s the playing field for man’s Dionysian instinct, or the instinct to express oneself through ecstatic dance. It can also be a continuum, an inversion of our own body, or as the negative of form itself. Discourse on “space” can be applied to architecture, but questioning the nature of “space” cannot occur at the same time as one is making or experiencing a real space. Overall, as architects, we must recognize that the “space” we use as our canvas is not neutral, but rather is imbued with the complexity of conflicting definitions and the influence of capitalist systems.

Critical Response

I felt that Adrian Forty’s writing on space was simultaneously far too dense, vague, and long. By exploring so many different conceptualizations of what a simple element is, he undermined readers’ understanding and created unnecessary complexity. It was incredibly hard to grasp what he meant, and while his eventual thesis seemed to be that space is defined by capitalist systems, he failed to connect that to any of the other points he made. It felt like he went over the same ideas multiple times, every time in a slightly different way, and used a lot of jargon and vague terminology—all of this serves to confuse the reader. If we are to understand the discourse around space as a problematic capitalist construct, how are we to unpack it if the analysis is so heady that it mystifies the layman?

In contrast, I appreciated the Louis Sullivan article for its relative approachability. However, I found myself questioning the utopian way he views skyscrapers as monuments of human progress and genius. The idea that office buildings are the peak of inspiration feels a bit like a constraint imposed by capitalism to me.

Application & Interpretation

Close-up of Nakagin Capsule Tower’s facade

Interior of a capsule

View of the tower as a whole

While it was a residential building, Kisho Kurokawa’s Nakagin Capsule Tower (built in Japan in 1972) reminded me of the skyscrapers discussed in the first two readings and created a unique sense of space that feels relevant to Forty’s piece. As the first capsule design in architecture, the building pioneered a new form of living, just as advances in air conditioning, lighting, and glass paved the way for new office building designs. Its modular nature also echoed the experimental iterations of architectural advancements during midcentury, and its eventual failure due to drainage and pipe issues echoed the failures of early glass constructions and air conditioning systems. Since it was built for traveling businessmen to have a place to live during the workweek, it also had ties to the social conditions that spurred the development of tall office blocks. Like the office buildings Louis Sullivan describes, the tower felt lofty, impressive, and magnificent, inspiring a confidence in architecture’s innovative potential. It also fit the idea of form follows function as the capsules were designed to be identical and contain only the amenities that were necessary for a simple living space. Finally, the tower’s separation of space into modular containers seems relevant to Forty’s article as a new entry into the discourse.

Takeaway

• The evolution of office buildings during the postwar period was complex and involved lots of experimentation, material advances, and new technologies.
• Tall office buildings inspired the modernist concept of “form follows function.”
• “Space” can be whatever you want it to be.