Existing Social Fabric (Neighborhood)
Architecture must account for the existing social structures of the community it’s designed for. Good design considers the patterns of social space and community engagement in the context it’s designed for. As an architect, it’s helpful to talk to the public when designing community spaces so that you can truly understand their needs and avoid causing isolation or disruption to local social networks.
A good example of this consideration is illustrated in Dana Cuff’s article “Radically Public Architecture” when she discusses rebuilding efforts following the Great East Japan Earthquake of 2011. ArchiAid and Home for All both worked to bridge the gap between communities and the highly practical, engineering-focused government rebuilding process. The first group emphasized the creation of more spontaneous community gathering spaces in newly-built apartment complexes, to bring them more in line with the layouts of pre-disaster neighborhoods. The second designed a number of gorgeously playful and imaginative community centers to bring joy to those impacted by the earthquake (based on “Radically Public Architecture”)
Occupants’ Personal Touches (Room/space)
Architecture, specifically in terms of interiors, must recognize the innate need for people to leave their mark on their domestic spaces, making them their own. Before the advent of modernism, homes were highly ornamented and decorated spaces, which echoed the interests and tastes of their occupants. These spaces prioritized coziness and an emphasis on the idea of dwelling in the space. Conversely, traditional modernism moved away from these kinds of interiors in favor of stark, minimalist rooms with little sign of life. These spaces can be seen as cold and devoid of meaning, while more decorated spaces show more personality.
However, architecture can also walk the line between these two extremes, as illustrated by the Rietveld-Schroder house in the Netherland. As a famous example of the distinctly modernist De Stijl aesthetic, the house “represents modernity’s longing for openness and transparency.” Yet, Truus Schroder lived there until she was over 80 and made the house a genuinely lived-in space that “exhumes a sense of comfort and well-being.” This dichotomy is also illustrated in a quote from Schroder that suggests how vital it is “to accept the state of things as they are: a painting by Van der Leck and underneath, the mess of life.” Even in modernist spaces that emphasize minimalism, architects should consider the reality that inhabitants leave traces of their lives in the spaces they occupy (based on “‘Leaving Traces’: Anonymity in the modernist house”).
Form and Function
In modern architecture, the connection between form and function is a constant consideration. In the concept of modernism defined by Louis Sullivan, form always follows function as that’s the natural order of things. While earlier architecture focused on ornate designs and decoration (i.e. form before function), modernism emphasized simplicity and functionalism. In analyzing architecture, it’s vital to consider the relationship between form and function.
The Nakagin Capsule Tower in Tokyo came to mind as an example while I was reading Louis Sullivan’s “The Tall Office Building Artistically Considered” in the sense that Kisho Kurokawa took the opportunity in designing the tower to advance architecture as a fine art for the people while embracing the idea of form following function. The tower’s removable capsules are highly innovative, and fit Sullivan’s concept of the lofty building as a vision of utopia. Each capsule was designed with the utmost simplicity in mind, and each only contained the necessities for a businessman to get through the workweek. In addition, the building’s role in the Metabolist movement in Japan is conceptually similar to Sullivan’s idea of form following function in nature (based on “The Tall Office Building Artistically Considered”).
Architecture as Critique (Building)
Architecture has the opportunity to critique the status quo, and call transgressions into question. Critical architecture should be unsettling to the discipline, should focus on form, and should consider the ways in which its intention might be mediated by the spatial experience of the building. Architects who aim to create a critique through their designs must be careful to avoid becoming complicit in systems of power and dominance.
Daniel Libeskind’s body of work illustrates the idea of successful critical architecture, as well as the neutralization of the concept. For example, his design for the Jewish Museum in Berlin stands as a solid example of architecture as critique. His manipulation of space into unsettling voids represented the loss of Jewish history due to the Holocaust and evoked a powerful sense of the horrors that were inflicted on Jewish people. However, his design for the “freedom tower” on the World Trade Center site failed to grasp the opportunity to go into any deeper critique than a surface level representation of 9/11 as an attack on Western freedom. In addition, many of his designs (like the Denver Art Museum) utilize strange forms and voids, but only for aesthetic purposes. In a way, this devalues the meaning of those forms in more purely critical projects like the Jewish Museum (based on “I Mean to be critical, but”).
Impacts of Global Conflict
Modernism has its roots in the postwar period following WWII, and in this it is important to consider how the aftermath of the war impacted the development of architecture. The politics, physical destruction, and residual tension that follow war all impact the wider culture of a nation, and can affect its development in all areas (including architecture).
In postwar Japan, the design of Kenzo Tange’s Hiroshima Peace Park exemplifies the complexities of this consideration. While the design was intended to memorialize the devastation of the bombing of Hiroshima, it was complicated by the bureaucratic influences of the American Occupation and was diluted to be a more general monument to peace. The project was able to evolve to utilize more traditional Japanese influences, but at its outset it was a symbol of the postwar hegemony of international modernism (based on Hyunjung Cho, 2012, “Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park and the Making of Japanese Postwar Architecture”).
Influence of Indigenous Designs/Local Vernacular
Part of decolonizing and reframing our explorations of modern architecture involves the consideration of indigenous design practices and influences of local vernacular. Throughout history, colonial powers have appropriated and twisted local forms to advance their own dominance and adapt to the environment of the land they’re occupying. These powers gloss over the meaning these practices hold for the groups they’re oppressing and take control of local ideas without acknowledging the indigenous people’s rights to their land.
One example of this is the way that Spanish colonial powers appropriated and weaponized the concept of the grid in the Andes. The grid had roots in Inca culture, and the central plazas of major cities like Cusco were designed to be ceremonial spaces that connected to nature on a physical and cosmological scale. The Spanish divided the plaza in Cusco into 3 separate spaces, essentially using the grid to impose dominance and counter the Incan concept of this spatial element (based on “Indigenous Modernities: The Tocapu and Other American Grids”).
Differing Concepts of Space
It is important in architectural analysis to consider the different ways in which spaces can be interpreted. For example, space can be considered as a simple enclosure, continuum, extension of the body, or mental construct. All of these interlocking ideas of space are important, and can exist simultaneously.
An example can be seen in Mies van der Rohe’s Tugendhat House in Brno, Czechoslovakia, which was built in 1929. The open floor plan of the interior advanced an idea of space as an extension of the body, specifically in the sense that it can inspire motion. By creating such free-flowing living space, the architect invites occupants to engage in joyful movement that takes full advantage of the design. This is illustrated in a quote by Ludwig Hilbersheimer, who exclaimed “One must move in this space, its rhythm is like music” (based on “Space”).
Human Rights
Architectural space can be considered a human right in line with the rights to shelter and a basic standard of living. The built environment is a huge part of everyone’s lives and as such, the people have a right to shape it and reap its benefits. However, due to the fundamental connections between urbanization and capitalism, the reality is that the power to shape the city lies in the hands of the few and often leads to gentrification and displacement.
An example of this sad reality can be seen in Hausmann’s urbanization of Paris under Napoleon. In his recreation of the city, Hausmann wiped out the poor neighborhoods, creating a Paris by and for the bourgeoisie. The aftermath of this persists in the visions of Paris as the “City of Light,” driven by tourism, mass consumption, and the boutique lifestyle (based on “The Right to the City”).
Architecture as a Colonial Tool
In architectural historiography, we must consider the ways in which architecture, and modernism in particular, was used as a tool of colonial dominance. Colonial powers manipulated the built environment to assert their power and presence over native groups. In addition, architecture was often used as a tool towards “modernizing” the non-West.
For example, in Morocco, French architects created modern apartment buildings that failed to account for the actual needs and desires of the people, with the colonial vision of enlightening the Moroccan people. These architects aimed to make the embrace of modernism more appealing by attempting to reference the design of traditional casbahs. However, this attempt was not successful, and their designs of elevated open-air courtyards were not adopted by the buildings’ occupants, who instead walled off these courtyards to create more usable living space (based on “An Alternative to Functionalist Universalism”).
Revised Guidelines
- How do modern buildings in Japan and beyond incorporate local vernacular? Is this done with the permission and/or involvement of local people, or are these design elements being appropriated by outsiders/colonist?
- Pay attention to any influences from the west—how if at all have they been reshaped or reclaimed by local forces?
- How have relatively unknown/everyday architects contributed to the architectural progress of Japan?
- Pay attention to the experiments or advances that are particular to Japan & how they fit into the reframing of non-West countries as “laboratories of modernity.” What unique developments from Japan arise independently from western influence?
- How do environmental contexts shape the built environment in Japan? How about cultural movements?
- Avoid elaborating too much on any existing discourse by reading and considering different perspectives and consider a building from all angles to ensure accurate representation. How can we use detailed research to explore modernism in a unique and novel way?
- Can Western architects design a building that is truly representative of a non-West country’s traditions by observation and replication? Or is the influence of Western thought in their work always unavoidable?
- New: How can architecture support and advance the rights of historically oppressed populations?