Reading Summaries

“Indigenous Modernities: The Tocapu and Other American Grids” by Ana Maria Leon and Andrew Herscher

In this reading, we see examples of both indigenous and colonial grids in the Americas. We also see some recurring differences between them and how those differences play out in more modern conceptions of the grid.

We first see some examples of indigenous grids. These include the salt mines in Maras, the city of Cuzco, and in the tocapu of Inca textiles. These examples show that the grid is a useful organization strategy arising from materials and processes, but also that the grid can describe relationships between spaces and their surroundings. It is the latter sense that marks examples in many indigenous cultures.

The colonial conception of the grid was as a means to quantify, dominate, and possess. We see this both in the works of Alexander von Humbolt, in the Jefferson Grid, and in the very notion of latitude and longitude. Notably, indigenous grids were frequently invisible to colonizers because of their very different uses.

More recent examples include the No-Stop City and Superstudio’s Continuous monument, which smack of colonial domination, and the Wiphala, and attempt to reclaim and recontextualize indigenous heritage.

“Radically Public Architecture” by Dana Cuff

We start with an examination of Japan after the 3.11 disaster. In the wake of the destruction, municipal governments applied wide-ranging strategies for rebuilding. Many of these strategies did not take local input into account. Competent architects provided a number of novel and community-minded solutions, including publicly oriented homes to foster community and Homes-for-All public living rooms.

With this example and that of Medellín’s public architecture in view, we define radically public architecture as 1) equitable and dignifying, 2) open-ended, and 3) fresh. Equitable and dignifying means that it “actively rejects discriminatory practices” and is anti-racists. Open-ended means that it invites its own adaptation and considers future generations. Fresh means that it engages with its occupants and seeks out unique ways of engagement. “Fresh” is importantly different from “innovative,” because innovative is more formal, whereas fresh is sociospatial.

Some examples of radically public architecture: the stramp at Vancouver’s Law Courts which attempts to tie together two methods of circulation. Congo Street Initiative finds collaborative ways to keep people in their neighborhood during housing rehabilitation. Living Rooms at the Border creates community spaces in place of policing.

Some examples fall short, like the Spacebuster. Even though it does something novel, it fails to be inclusive enough for the author to consider it “radically public.” There is a certain kind of person who is comfortable enough to step into an enclosed space in a random parking lot.

“I Mean to be Critical, But . . . ” by Kim Dovey

The main argument here is that so-called “critical architecture” tends to engage with the formal aspects of architecture but leaves the spatial aspects unchallenged. Formal aspects of architecture are simply the shape or appearance of the building, the language or “text.” The spatial aspects of architecture can be understood through the lenses of Foucault’s architecture of coercion and Lefebvre’s social space. These are the ways in which architecture shapes physical and social movement and replicates the status quo.

The deconstructivists created formally radical buildings, but they didn’t do anything radical spatially. This is evidenced by the fact that in rebelling against a cadre of prescriptive modernists they formed a cadre of prescriptive postmodernists. The personal statements of some of these postmodernists is equally telling (as in Eisenman saying, “Liberal views have never built anything of value”).

We are cautioned not to throw the baby out with the bathwater: even though formal critique chasing its own tail for its own sake is maddening, we should not do as Speaks suggests and reject critical architecture altogether. It is worthwhile to engage in spatial critique.

The best summation of this argument is in the Libeskind/Sorkin dichotomy. Libeskind (a supposedly “critical” architect) proposed a pretty standard patriotic statement building for the 9/11 site in New York. Sorkin proposed a mostly open space at the site and a reallocation of development to benefit Lower Manhattan.

Critical Response

I appreciate these readings and their advocacy for a better world (Dovey and Cuff in particular). I further appreciate their vision for architecture’s and architects‘ roles in creating that better world. I’m genuinely excited to take part in that mission myself. But . . .

I’m resistant to the idea that all architecture has to be critical or radically public. I bet that the authors would say that they aren’t demanding this standard from all architecture, only outlining a path for a better way forward. However, their condemnation of a “stars and stripes” approach to the Freedom Tower or calling out Spacebuster as not radical enough makes me think otherwise.

To speak to these two examples, two buildings were blown up in New York City and 2,753 people died. I think a “stars and stripes” response is a no-brainer. I imagine a fair number of New Yorkers would agree. As for Spacebuster, it’s a pretty cool and innovative way to shake up public spaces (I use that term well-aware of its baggage). I get that the article we read is focused on its framework for radically public architecture, but I think something like Spacebusters ought to be celebrated. This is particularly true given the problem we seem to have getting people to hang out with each other in cities. Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good; getting people out in public is a real win.

Application and Interpretation

Quinta Monroy, Iquique, Chile

Speaking of no-brainers, if you’re looking for a radically public, sociospatial architectural critique arranged in a grid in Chile, this is it.

For starters, this complex meets all three criteria for radically public architecture. It is equitable and dignifying in the way that it gives ownership and builds community for people with low incomes. Its invitation for inhabitants to modify to suit their needs makes it open-ended. And boy is it fresh: it introduces a novel way for people to interact with their homes and their communities. (It might be more accurate to say that it democratizes access to a very nonnovel way to interact with one’s home.)

Quinta Monroy is critical architecture at its best: both formally and spatially critical. The partially finished buildings and their prioritization of providing difficult to build elements are formally novel, and they also unsettle the traditional social space surrounding mass housing.

The development’s use of a grid is a little more complex. I read it as both an attempt to create space relative to its surroundings (as in the Cuzco example) and as a means to create efficiency and partition off ownership as in the colonial usages. However, the efficiency and partitioning motivations here are decidedly not colonial because they are merely a means to provide an ever-changing space to current inhabitants.

Takeaways

• The grid is not unique to colonialism or European modernism, but its usage there sets it apart from other historical uses.
• There are two kinds of criticism: formal and spatial.
• Formal critique without spatial critique ends up just recreating the same kinds of things over and over.
• Architects have a unique role in developing creative solutions for the built environment with inhabitants and communities in mind.